“No,” I say fiercely, sitting up. “I’d love it if you came, Mr. Tanner. I’m sure Angie would too.”
“I’m going to that audition tomorrow, remember.”
I stifle a groan. The walk is tomorrow morning… the same time as the audition.
I completely forgot. I’m so scatterbrained lately, but then that’s nothing new. I’ve been scatterbrained all my freaking life.
Well, it’s not like Trent is going to say yes anyway.
He stares at me in the rearview mirror, a captivating smirk toying with his lips.
“Sure,” he says. “As long as you don’t mind?”
Is he really so proud that he’d agree to go on a walk with a woman he clearly hates just because I’ve challenged him? That’s crazy, but the idea of backing out is ridiculous to me now. There’s no way I’m going to let him bully me.
Oh, shut up, something deep inside of me says. It feels like something inside of me, like some primal piece of me is waking up at his closeness, aroused by his scent, hungry for him to usher me into a new life filled with children and laughter and happiness. You want him to want you. You want him to need you.
“I don’t mind,” I say after a pause. “Please, come along.”
His smirk widens and he shrugs as if to say it doesn’t mean a damn thing to him.
I sit back and fold my arms, resisting the urge to bite my lip, a desire which throbs and pulses through me.
Oh, God, what the heck have I gotten myself into?
“Tess, are you okay?” Mom asks as she chops the tomato with efficient motions.
Click-click-click, she hammers the knife against the chopping board, smiling at me across the kitchen.
The tension that has moved through me all evening – ever since Angie dropped me off – lightens a little when I take in the sight of my mom smiling.
One of the reasons I didn’t go to college, apart from the issue of money, was that my mom needed me at home to support her during her schizophrenia episodes.
It was rare and strange, how it struck in her late thirties, leading her down a deep rabbit hole that demanded most of my attention.
Now, after a long hard battle and combination of therapy and medication, she’s in a much better place, and it makes me want to sing and dance and punch the air every time I think about it.
She’s curvy, like me, with a close-shaved head and a tattoo of a butterfly on her neck.
“Tess?” Click-click-click. “I asked you a question.”
I sigh from the table, nodding, but then I realize she probably wants words.
But what words can I offer that would make sense of any of this?
I’m meeting with Trent freaking Tanner for a date tomorrow morning.
No—not a date, it can’t be a date. If it’s a date, it could lead to other steamy things, kisses, and what comes after kisses.
In your dreams, a bitter voice cackles inside.
“I’m fine,” I say. “I’m just thinking about my walk tomorrow. Do you want to come?”
She frowns. “You know I’m busy. I’m seeing Liam.”
“I know,” I say. “I was wondering if maybe he canceled.”
Liam is mom’s accountant boyfriend. It’s going really well and she thinks he’s going to propose soon. And he never cancels. He’s ridiculously punctual and always arrives in our little corner of Maine precisely when he says he’s going to, right down to the minute.
“Something’s bothering you,” Mom goes on, lifting the chopping board and pushing the tomatoes into the pan. “You’ve been moping all evening. Did something happen at work?”
I laugh dryly. “Nothing ever happens at work, Mom.”
“What is it, then? Is it… have you been thinking about all I put you through?”
I stand and walk across the room, leaning against the kitchen partition so I can look closely at her.
“I don’t blame you. I’ve never blamed you. It’s not your fault.”
She nods shortly, but I can tell she still doesn’t believe me. Even though it’s been almost a year since the paranoia and the arguments and the constant rage ended, she still thinks there’s a part of me that harbors resentment toward her.
“Thank you. That means a lot. I just wish you’d find a nice boy – or girl – and go and have some fun.”
“Boy, it’d be a boy,” I say. “But I don’t need anybody. I’m fine on my own, just me and my camera.”
It wouldn’t be a boy. It’d be a man, a man named Trent Tanner who I’ve crushed on since I was a little girl, a man who’s served overseas and has muscles that look like they are carved out of marble… and probably feel that way too.
Mom sighs. “I don’t like it when you say things like that, Teepee.”
I giggle. “And I don’t like it when you call me Teepee. One time I did that.”