I rolled my eyes and went back to slathering my hotcakes in syrup and jamming them into my mouth, filling my cheeks just to get on my mom’s nerves. It was so typical of Jack to show up late and make my mother absurdly happy, while I had been early yet still was treated to her criticism. I focused on my lake of syrup and ignored her excited chatter until I heard her say, “And he brought you again—how nice!”
I glanced up, expecting to see Jack’s new squeeze, but my pancake turned to concrete in my throat as I saw Colin, smiling at my mother.
Shit, shit, shit. Of course Colin was here. I’d made sure to look stunning every single day of the past week on the off chance I’d see him in the elevator, but on the morning I’d decided to skip makeup and just wear gray sweats and a Grab Some Buds T-shirt, there he was.
“I had so much fun last time that I would’ve come without him.” My chest hurt a little as he gave my mom a teasing grin. He was wearing jeans and a fisherman sweater and those motherloving glasses, and I was torn between wanting to tackle him to the ground and do him on the disgusting IHOP floor, wanting to punch him square in the face, and wanting to just ugly cry like a big baby.
“Here, everyone scoot down.” My mom was beaming at him and gesturing for my dad to move over so Colin could sit next to her. Thank God I was at the end of the table and out of scooting range, although knowing my mother, she might make me sit with the elderly couple at the table next to us if there wasn’t room for him.
I returned my attention to my plate, which was in serious jeopardy of overflowing from my maple syrup ocean, and I grabbed the last pancake. I felt his eyes on me, so I dipped the whole pancake into the mess and stuffed half the thing in my mouth.
That’s right, asshole—I care so little about your presence that I’m eating like the ultimate pig. Suck it.
“Livvie was just about to tell us her good news.” My mother said it in a perky voice that intimated the boys had just interrupted a celebratory moment. She pointed her fork in my direction and said, “Go ahead, honey.”
“Rnmupf.” I held up a finger while I attempted to swallow a pancake the size of my face. The entire family, including my grandma, grandpa, Auntie Midge, and Uncle Bert, were looking at me like I was hard to look at.
Yeah, I got that.
“Oof, Liv, did you lose your makeup?” Jack teased under his breath, “Lookin’ craggy this morning.”
Once I swallowed—and flipped off my brother, which made my mom gasp—I cleared my throat and said, “I wouldn’t really call it good news, but I got a freelance job yesterday.”
“So, part time?” Auntie Midge screwed her eyebrows together and said, “Is that what that means?”
“It’s not even that, I don’t think,” my mother said. “What is that—like, work at your own pace?”
“Good job, hon,” my dad muttered, and jammed a piece of grape jelly toast into his mouth. I absently thought, Don’t let Mom see you eat that, when she spoke up.
“Don’t eat that, dear.” She shook her head like he was a recalcitrant child and said, “You know that gives you the bloats.”
I’d never figured out what exactly that meant, but it had haunted me throughout my childhood, the threat of his “bloats.”
“My sister made a fortune freelancing.” Colin looked at me as he said to the table, “It usually just means you’re paid on a per-project basis.”
“Really?” My mom batted her eyes at Colin and then said to me, “Is that how this is?”
I was torn again. Colin was being nice, trying to help me with the family, and I knew I should be grateful. But did he think me that pathetic that he had to jump in to make me sound good? Did he feel sorry for me?
Guilty, more like.
And I didn’t need his pity-based help.
“Colin’s wrong, actually.” I looked right at his blue eyes and said, “This freelance job is super part time and the wage is terrible. You can’t even really call it work.”
I saw his jaw clench—good, I’d irritated him—before my mother sucked him into a whole lot of ass kissing. I was forgotten, thank God, and when Colin got up from the table to take a phone call ten minutes later, I quickly said my goodbyes to the family and took off.
* * *
? ? ?
I SPENT THE afternoon writing automobile descriptions for car dealerships, my amazing new shitty freelance job. I kept falling asleep on my stool, so I took a break and went onto my deck to watch the rain. It was depressing and cold—usually my favorite—and seemed appropriate for my situation.