Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
When I go to lunch and turn on my phone, I’m looking forward to saying hello to my men, maybe getting in some flirtation via text, but there’s a missed call from my mom. I call her back, but she doesn’t answer.
I frown and start eating my turkey sandwich, and on a whim, thinking briefly of when I found Lexy messaging her men, I set up a four-way text with Brax, Erik, and Gray. “What’s everybody doing?”
There’s a delay, and I imagine the men staring at their phones, deciding how to respond. Then Brax says, “I’m at the tattoo shop, studying for a test.”
Gray is next. “I’m working out. Bartending later.”
Erik’s the last to join in. “I was on a call. Normal work day here. Everything okay at the yarn shop?”
I’m about to reply when my mom calls back. “Be right back, my mom’s calling,” I tell them, and take the call. “Hi, mom.”
“Ava? Is everything okay?”
She sounds out of breath. “You called me,” I remind her.
“Oh, yes. Right.”
“Mom … what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she says sharply, then takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Everything is okay. I promise.”
I don’t believe her. For the first time in my life, I’m pretty sure my mother is lying to me. “Why did you call?” I prompt her gently.
“Oh, your brother and Jessica are coming for dinner this weekend. I wanted to give you plenty of notice so you could join us.”
I make a face, but say, “Okay, Mom. I’ll see you then.”
“Bye, dear. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
No chitchat, no questions about how my day is going, nothing. I go back to the group text to see that Erik has asked, “How is your mom?”
“She’s acting weird.”
“Weird how?” Brax wants to know.
“It’s hard to explain. I think I need to talk to my brother. I’ll catch you guys later, okay?” I send them text kisses and get back emoji of candy (Brax), a rose (Gray), and a heart (Erik). That one makes my own heart beat faster, but I don’t let myself think about the implications right now. Instead, I call my brother.
“Ava? Is everything okay?” A fair question; we rarely talk. We’re not that close, partly because he’s older and partly because of me growing away from the church.
“I’m not sure. Have you talked to Mom recently?”
“Yes, just this morning. Why?”
“I don’t know. She seems … not herself lately.”
Aaron makes a thoughtful sound, but says, “I’m sure it’s nothing. She seemed all right to me.”
I’m not surprised by his response. I don’t think Aaron would admit it to himself even if he did notice anything; he doesn’t like to believe that our parents are anything less than perfect, especially our mother. I’ve always been the one who had to take care of them when they got sick.
“Okay. See you at dinner this weekend.”
I end the call, but sit there thinking for a few minutes. I’m not sure what’s going on, but my gut says something’s off. It’s going to keep bugging me until I figure out the mystery. Not that I want to pry, but I’m worried.
Glancing at my phone again, I see I only have a few minutes left on my lunch break, so I get to work on finishing my sandwich. The afternoon goes quickly, with more classes, and before long I’m at home getting ready for a date with Erik.
We go miniature golfing, and it’s so much fun. Neither of us is that good at it, but we’re not terrible, and we’re pretty evenly matched. We alternate between cheering each other on and teasing each other for our bad shots, and now and then we share a quick kiss.
The last time I was in a park setting, with Brax, I almost had a panic attack when I saw a family from church. This time, it’s like playing church-guilt badminton. A couple of times, anxious thoughts dart at me like pesky little shuttlecocks, and I bat them away. Whap! Whap! I’m proud of how much progress I’ve made.
We’re so relaxed about the game that we don’t bother keeping score, and agree at the end that it was a tie. Erik drives us back to our apartment building, and it’s automatic for me to invite him in when we reach my door. I make popcorn, and we cuddle up on the couch with one of our shows.
It’s our familiar routine, but the cuddling part is new. I’m tucked against his side, his arm around me, his fingers sometimes brushing my arm or playing with the ends of my hair. I love it; I can imagine doing this forever with him.
But when I think about never seeing Gray or Brax again, not having them be a part of my life, it feels so wrong. I picture myself with a bigger apartment, like Gray’s, and I can envision it easily, the four of us hanging out together.