“You didn’t seem to mind when you were watching me out there.” He winks.
Easton and I both look at each other with a grimace. I may like that my parents love each other, but it can go too far sometimes when they get a littletoolovey.
“Is dinner ready?” Easton asks to distract them from their little love bubble.
“Yes, but no arguing at my table.” She points a wooden spoon at both of us. “I want a nice peaceful meal with my boys.”
“Yes, Mom,” we both relent.
She turns to Dad, lifting an eyebrow, waiting for his respond. “Yes, princess.”
After we’re done eating, I volunteer to do the dishes.
“Kiss ass,” Easton mutters under his breath.
When our mom isn’t looking, I toss a balled up napkin at him, then carry the dishes back into the kitchen. I manage to balance them all and gently set them on the counter, mentally high fiving myself for the useless talent.
Turning the sink on, my mom steps up next to me, leaning her hip against the counter and folding her arms.
“Alright, talk to me,” she encourages.
“What do you mean?” I divert.
“You volunteered to do the dishes without arguing with Easton, that means you want to talk. Lay it on me.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m your mother, I know all. Remember that.” She points her finger at me. “I. Know. All.”
Why do I kind of believe her?
“So, what is it you want to tell me?” she asks.
“Shouldn’t you already know? Don’t youknow all?”
“I want to hear it from you. Can’t freak you out too much by revealing everything I know.”
I chuckle, rinsing out one of the bowls before putting it in the dishwasher, then picking up the next one. When I don’t immediately say anything, she pushes for more.
“Is it about a girl?”
“You tell me.” I chuckle.
“Well considering Rae was wearing your jersey, but Asher couldn’t stop looking at her, I would say so.”
I freeze. I know she was joking about knowing everything, but she must be even more perceptive than I give her credit for. Even I didn’t notice how much Asher was looking at Rae during the BBQ. But I guess I may have been too busy looking at her as well.
Mom sighs. “You’re going to make this difficult to get out of you, aren’t you? Does she know how you feel?”
I swallow roughly. “Kind of.”
“Do you know how she feels?”
“Kind of?” I repeat.
She blows out a breath. “I’ve failed as a mother, haven’t I?”
“No, of course not,” I reassure her. “Well, not with me, but Easton is questionable.”
