“They were sold out.” Amy took the red velvet.
“Don’t use that tone with me, Amy. You know I don’t like it.”
“What tone? The tone of relaying factual information?”
It was time for him to intervene. “Ma, why don’t you try the chocolate?” Wes held it out.
Her expression was mulish. “No. Amy made me lose my appetite.”
They ate in silence until his mother started up again. “Has Ella told you when she’s coming home? I need to clean her room. It’s dusty. She’s been gone too long.”
Amy kicked Wes under the table, and he clenched his jaw and released it to get out the tension. It was time.
“Ella has an opportunity. A job.” Technically not true, but good enough. He knew his mother wouldn’t care enough about the details to ask. “She won’t be moving back after this summer.”
“What?” Their mother uncrossed her arms, and the deep downward grooves of her mouth twitched. “What did you say? You tell her she belongs at home. She’s breaking up the family, like Amy.”
Amy took a deep breath but kept quiet.
“This is a great chance for Ella,” Wes said, keeping his tone neutral so his mother wouldn’t get more upset.
“At least a son never leaves his mother,” she said, reaching over and grasping his hands. “Girls only think about themselves. A boy will protect his mother.”
“Of course, Ma.” Wes caught Amy’s raised eyebrows across the table.
“You’ll be here for me,” continued their mother. She cast a sidelong look at Amy, easy enough to interpret, but Amy didn’t take her eyes off Wes. Out of all of them, she was the one who packed the lightest for their mother’s guilt trips. Wes tried to channel some ofAmy’s energy.
“Actually, Ma, I need to tell you something.”
His mother yanked back her hands. “What?”
When he waited too long, Amy kicked him under the table again, this time hard enough to make him flinch. “I have a work trip that came up suddenly. It starts tomorrow. For three weeks.”
There, it was out. He tensed, waiting for the explosion or the tears.
She shook her head as if denying what he’d told her. “No.”
“I’m sorry, Ma.”
“Tell them you can’t go.”
On the other side of the table, Amy picked at her cupcake before putting it down on the plate, her expression tight. He felt like an asshole forcing her to be here when she’d specifically told him to deal with his own shit.
“I’ll do the groceries before I go, and you can order online if you don’t want to go to the store. Mr. Prescott next door can help with the garbage bins.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You understand just fine,” muttered Amy in a voice only Wes could hear. “You only pretend you don’t.”
Wes, on the other hand, felt helpless to do anything but play her game, the way he had for years. “I have a work trip, and it starts tomorrow.”
“Why do you have to go?”
“Ma. Because it’s work.”
His voice must have betrayed his growing frustration, because she changed tactics. “What if someone breaks in?” she demanded. “You’re leaving me to die.”
Ignoring Amy’s whispered “Good luck to that burglar,” Wes said, “That’s not true, Ma. You know I love you.”
