A look of pure distress covers her face. “I’d rather not know that kind of stuff.”
I snort. “Then keep your thoughts to yourself.”
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, and I can see the wheels turning in her head. I know she loves Asher. But a part of me feels she only wants me to be with him because then I wouldn’t get with such idiots who break my heart or try to make me move away. She knows I’d be taken care of, and of course, I want that too. But for that to happen, Asher would have to show some kind of interest, and I don’t even know if I’d go for it then.
We have a great relationship. Do I really want to throw sex and jealousy in the mix? Well, there is already jealousy. I really hope Angie doesn’t approach him. I don’t even know why I told him about her. I’m so fucked up in the head.
“Plus, I’m having dinner with Taco this week. That will probably start up again.”
Her eyes widen, and I almost wish I’d told her I was pregnant instead. Why did I tell her about that? Am I that unwilling to discuss the fact that the guy I’ve loved for most of my adult life doesn’t want anything to do with me?
I think I am.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
I blink. “Nothing?” She gives me a dark look, and I crumble like a cookie. “I’m having dinner with Taco tomorrow.”
“Allison, please tell me you’re lying,” she says, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Just lie to me if you have to.”
“Yup, I’m lying.”
I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. She drops her hand and glares at me. “I am flabbergasted that you want to see that person. He wanted nothing more than to ruin your life. You do realize this, right?”
I let my shoulders fall, chewing a bite of sandwich as I try to think of what to say. I probably should have kept talking about Asher. “Mom, it’s not that simple. I do care for him.”
“No, no, you do not. You want to try to get rid of your feelings for Asher. It’s so bad you choose dudes who don’t know their asses from their mouths, and they’re jackasses!”
I blink. “That’s very graphic, Mom.”
She shoots me a contemptuous look. “Allison, sweetheart, he doesn’t love you. He just wants to keep getting in your pants.”
I press my lips together. “And what’s wrong with that? It’s nice to be wanted.”
She looks so sad for me, and I feel pathetic. “You’re better than that, sweetheart. Even when I slept around, at least I did it with decent guys.”
We have a very open relationship. I know I can talk to her about anything, and I know her past. I set her with a look. “How can you be sure of that, though? You sometimes didn’t even get to know them.”
She shrugs. “Well, that could be true, but I can promise you they had jobs and didn’t go by stupid nicknames.”
I sigh. “I don’t know, Mom. He’s familiar.”
“So is Asher.”
I roll my eyes. “We’ve discussed that, and there is no point. He isn’t attracted to me.”
She holds my gaze, her blue eyes searching mine. “Please don’t get back with Taco. Life is so good for you right now. Plus, I’m sure Asher has had words with you about this.”
I press my lips together. “Of course, Asher doesn’t want me back with him, but it’s for obvious reasons, because he doesn’t treat me right.”
“Yes, so please listen to us. I get a guy being good in bed, but sometimes their dick isn’t good enough when they are a dick.”
“Man, I love walking in on y’all’s conversations,” my dad says, and my face burns. “And you better not be talking about me,” he says to my mom jokingly, kissing her temple.
I gag a bit. “Ew.”
“Oh yes. Hearing about us is gross, but for me to hear what I did is fine and dandy,” he says, kissing my temple next. “How were your classes this morning?”
“Good. I’m ready for graduation.”
“Aren’t we all?” he says with a grin, and I grin back. My dad has aged like a fine wine. Growing up, everyone thought my dad was such a hottie. He is so exotic with his dark hair and darker eyes and thick Russian-accented English. He has hardly any wrinkles and doesn’t seem to have aged at all in my eyes. The same with my mom. They’re both halves of a stunning couple, one I’ve had the pleasure of watching never give up on each other or our family. It was spotty for all of us when my dad was dealing with his addiction and when my mom lost my baby brother, but I feel we’re stronger for having gone through it.
Dad exhales and lays down his wallet and keys. “I gotta go pack. I catch a plane early tomorrow. I don’t want to do it after the game later.” He starts out of the room, but before he leaves, he looks back at us. “Stop talking about dicks, huh?”
We both snicker as he walks away, and my mom leans on her forearms, her eyes meeting mine. “Listen to me, sweetheart. Please.”
I chew on my lip, looking down at my sandwich. I pick at the crust. Let’s be honest, I don’t even like Taco anymore. I just wanted to feel something again. It’s hard being around Asher when we’re both single. Yes, it’s only been a day, but it’s already so overwhelming. Being close makes me want to do dirty things to him, and I know he’d reject me. That would probably be the worst thing ever.
“Yeah, Mom. I’ll cancel.”
She beams. “That’s my baby,” she says, squeezing my hand.
As I devour the rest of my sandwich, she watches me happily. We may fight, but I know she’d die for me. I love my mom. She squeezes my wrist, and I look up as she says, “Also, I think Asher didn’t want to sleep with you and her, because if he did, he’d give in to his feelings for you and break her heart.” She shrugs, her eyes playful. “Now that she’s not in the picture, nothing can hold either of you back.”
She takes my empty plate, leaving me speechless. While I have wondered if that could be the case—not that I would have joined them in bed, or maybe I would have for Asher, but Jasmine would have been mighty bored—I can’t let myself think that way.
It only chips away at my heart for something that will never be.
Chapter Five
Asher
I don’t know how my mom does it.
Really. She needs an award for her patience.
She moves through the kitchen, making Emery’s lunch as she talks so animatedly and with nonstop grins. It makes me happy to know I’m the reason she’s smiling, but seriously, how does she keep talking when it’s World War III down the hall?
“When is your interview?”
When something crashes, I widen my eyes as I look at her. She’s just waiting for my answer, no concern for the house or her daughters. “Friday. I have Ally’s game tonight.”
She nods as Stella screams, “That is my sweater!”
Emery doesn’t agree. “No. I bought it for me, not you!”
“You did! But then we traded so you could have those Mickey Mouse pants you loved so much.”
“We did not! You tried, and I didn’t want to!”
“You’re such a liar!”
I blink as I look at my mom when she asks, “What time is Ally’s game?”
“Six.”
“Nice, maybe I’ll swing by.”
“She’d love that.”
Mom smiles as she cleans up her mess. From the back, Emery yells, “Take it off! I need to wear it!”
“No, you only wanna wear it because I have it on!” Another crash. “You’re such a bitch!”
Finally, my mom speaks up. “Language, Stella!”
“Sorry,” she calls from down the hall. “But she is one.”
Mom spoons out some scrambled eggs and then sets the plate in front of me. She smiles widely at me. “It’s so great to have you home.”
Another crash. I jerk my thumb behind me. “Because I distract you from that?”
She scoffs. “Oh, baby, that’s mild. Those two aren’t going to kill each other. I don’t know why Stella doesn’t just go live in the dorms.”
I nod. “I agree.”
“She’s a momma’s girl. Doesn’t want to leave me like you and your brother did,” she teases, and I laugh as I shovel some eggs into my mouth.
“Hey, I’m back, aren’t I?”
She arches a brow. “Oh, I know you’ve got one foot out that front door.”
I shrug. “Maybe,” I say with a chuckle, and I don’t feel the least bit guilty. “Not because of you, I love you, but all because of them.”
Just then, Emery comes into the kitchen. Her hair looks like a bird’s nest, and she’s glaring. “Stella pulled my braid headband out of my hair and called me a dumb bitch.”
Mom lets out a long huff. “What did you do?”
Emery shrugs. “Pulled my sweater off her.”
“And messed up my hair!” Stella calls from the other room.
“Can you kick her out? When is it my time to shine?”
I snort. “Em, when don’t you shine?” I ask, and she looks at me, displeasure swimming in her light green eyes.
“Why are you even here? I feel like when people turn eighteen, they gotta go and can’t come back.”