揑t抣l make me partner, which is better than being happy.?I phrase it like a joke, but the truth is, if I were offered a choice between happiness and making partner匢抎 probably choose the latter. 揂nd I抦 not sure happiness is really in my makeup.?
揙f course, it is. You抳e forgotten the little girl who used to spin in the yard for the fun of it and jump in every puddle, but I haven抰，？she says.
I quietly crumple a Post-it note in my hand and leave it clenched in my fist. I haven抰 forgotten the kid she described either, but I think I may be too broken to get any of it back.
When the call ends, I rise and head to the break room. It抯 late, and I should probably go home and eat a real meal, but I suspect the emptiness of my apartment would get to me tonight.
I take two steps inside and come to a sudden, graceless halt. Ben is there, reading on his phone while he waits for coffee to brew.
The coward in me would probably turn and walk out except I抳e already been seen. His gaze梥tartled, then predatory梥tarts at my face and finishes at my shoes, where it remains for a long, long moment.
I continue forward, doing my best to act like he抯 not here. If it weren抰 for ten straight years of dance training, I抎 definitely be stumbling right now, however.
揑 heard an interesting rumor about you, so I investigated,?he says.
My stomach drops.
揧our mom抯 Etsy shop is endlessly fascinating.?
It抯 not what I thought he was going to say, but it抯 a bad night to have anything involving my mother thrown in my face.
I give him my best dead-eyed look. The one that says If you continue discussing this, I抣l make sure they never find your body. 揗aybe you should be doing a little work on the Lawson case instead of online shopping.?
He gives a genial shrug and opens up his phone. 揥e抳e got a few spare moments. Outfits for cats, right? I might need to contact her.?
揕ooking for a special bondage outfit for yours??I ask, jerking a drawer open more roughly than is necessary. 揗y mom won抰 support your weird habits if that抯 what you抮e hoping.?
He grins. 揥ow, such interesting pictures.?He holds up his phone.
Sadly, my mother still hasn抰 mastered her in-home photography skills. She抯 showing the cats curled up on the linoleum kitchen floor when I抳e told her a thousand times that she should at least use a white sheet.
揑 love the way that shelf is hanging haphazardly off the wall,?he continues. 揑t抯 kind of dark, like she wants you to fear for the cats?lives while admiring their outfits at the same time.?
I feel a hard pinch, right in the center of my chest. I wonder if my father is laughing right now梛ust like Ben梬hile showing my mother抯 poor attempt at independence to his country club friends, his new wife giggling as she says, 揙h, Adam, stop敆as if she isn抰 enjoying it the most of them all.
揇on抰 make fun of my mother,?I snap, but there抯 a lump in my throat that warns me I抦 not going to be able to hold it together, whether he stops or not. I hate that he抯 won this round. I hate that he found this out, and I hate that there are things in my past I抦 even more scared he抣l discover. I turn on my heel, stiff as I walk from the room.
揋emma??he asks, but I just keep going, because if I try to utter a single word in response, I will absolutely lose it. My lungs feel like they抮e lined with shattered glass, so jagged I抦 scared to take a full breath.
I go to my office and shut the door, hating that I抦 falling apart here and now and with him of all people. I grab my bag and shove my laptop inside.
He knocks, tries the handle, and finds it locked. 揋emma, I棓
揥e really don抰 need to discuss it,?I announce, making my voice as sharp as possible. 揑t抯 fine.?
I want him to just walk away, but he doesn抰。
揑 don抰 understand why it upset you so much,?he says. 揑 was just kidding. You抳e said far worse to me.?
Rage cures my sadness faster than time ever could. I jerk the door open, swinging the bag over my shoulder. 揑 make fun of the women you date, you make fun of me for not dating at all. That抯 fair. Making fun of someone抯 mother for being poor while you sit there with your fancy car and big house is not.?
He blinks in surprise, and I see something an awful lot like shame pass over his face. 揋emma,?he says, 揑抦 sorry. I honestly had no idea. None. You have that whole posh, East Coast, private-school vibe. I assumed you had wildly wealthy parents.?
I did, and now I don抰。 Now I抳e got a mother who has to do everything for herself and won抰 let me help. That shelf in her kitchen will probably fall eventually. And her car will break down, or she抣l slip on the ice outside her apartment again and I will be here, unable to make it stop.