Page 45 of Contingently Yours

Andrew

Picking at a platter of appetizers on the island counter in my parents’ kitchen, I contemplate what looks good, knowing I should eat something. Nothing is the consensus I come up with. Nothing looks good. Love has officially ruined food for me. Love sucks.

The urgent clip of heels comes from behind me. I can smell my mother’s flowery perfume before I see her. Dressed in white slacks and a soft yellow blouse, she looks like a woman who is confident that nothing will spill on her at a luncheon. Even food, apparently, bends to my mother’s whims.

She’s frowning at me. I can see it in her eyes. Her face doesn’t move much from all the Botox. Years of trying to look good for my father, although she’ll never admit it.

“What’s the matter with you?” she demands, picking up a spoon to stir a bowl of dip, her manicured nails are perfect as always, making the utensil look out of place in her hands.

“Are you going to come outside or stay in here and mope? It’s not going to kill you to spend an afternoon with your family.”

Family…

I can see from the window that Shaw and Terry are here, sitting at a table by themselves on the lawn. I’m sure Chad will make the rounds and chat with them, but he and I are usually the only ones in my immediate family who do.

Uncle Lou called me on my way over here to inform me that my commission will be deposited on Monday. “You did good, kid,” he said in that gruff tone of his that felt more like a hug than any I’ve ever gotten from my parents in recent years.

At least Lucas will be happy when he checks his bank account next week. That much made me smile.

“Is that what this is?” I ask, stuffing a shrimp into my mouth without even tasting it.

“What’s the matter with you?” Chad’s voice calls from my side, where I see him walk in with my father. Smirking, he grabs a bottle of beer from the fridge. “Real estate falling through?”

Does everyone think I’m pouting like the prodigal son? Not everything is about the freaking Broadhouse family. For fuck’s sake.

“I just made almost a million dollars this month. Real estate is fine,” I inform him without any fanfare. It’s just a fact, but because he started it and the surprised look on his face satisfies my miserable mood, I suggest, “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Snorting, he still looks bewildered, like he knows I’m not shitting him about the figure. Face pink, he tries to hide it by taking a swig of his beer as he leaves the room.

My father’s expression looks contemplative, but one look at my mother beating the hell out of the dip, and he makes a casual beeline for his den.

Her gaze follows him like a hawk, an angry Botoxed hawk with a Tammy Wynette updo.

It’s a rerun I haven’t missed, and one I blame for not knowing that love smacked me right in the face without me even realizing it.

Sighing, she sets her spoon down and wipes a nonexistent mess from her hands. “Well, if you’re not going to eat, at least get yourself a drink before you go out there, so you can try to be social. Come on.”

She stalks into the den after my father, and I groan under my breath. I don’t want to be her lackey for whatever row she’s having with Dad today, but I follow anyway because I have no energy to argue.

Nodding at my father, I drop onto one of the leather couches and watch my mother pretend she didn’t march up to the bar just to be in the same space as him.

She scoops ice into two glasses with the command of a general and pours us both a drink.

Turning, she smiles as much as she can, back to being hostess of the year, and walks over to hand me a glass.

“So, what’s new with you?”

Taking a seat opposite me, I catch her gaze flicking to my father to see if he’ll join her. He stops next to his bookshelves and leans an elbow on one of them, causing a tiny furrow between my mother’s brows. No wonder I don’t know what love looks like.

“I met someone,” I mutter, staring into the amber liquid that reminds me of the color of Lucas’ eyes.

“Oh? Where?”

“At work.”

Mom makes a tsk sound and remarks dryly, “Well, I guess you’ve learned nothing.”

I feel like I’ve been chopped up in a blender, and that’s the starter conversation she leads with?

And people meet people they work with all the time.

For all they know, I could have wanted to marry that intern that I didn’t even go out with.

I’m so sick of feeding into it, though. I have no snappy retort today that will get under her skin.

‘ At least I’m honest .’

Lucas’ words ring through me like a ghost melody.

“I really like him,” I tell her, feeling bold.

“Who?”

“The guy I’ve been…” I’m not sure how to fill in that blank, and certainly don’t want to say ‘ fucking ’ because it was more than that, even if Lucas doesn’t think so right now. “With,” I finally settle on.

Maybe I shouldn’t even be speaking to anyone at all today because it occurs to me I’m just staring at my drink with no concept of how much time has passed, too lost in my own thoughts.

It’s quiet when I look up. Dad looks a bit shocked, but also, strangely nervous.

Mom lets out a fake-sounding laugh and then rolls her eyes.

“Is this your latest shenanigan?” She takes a sip of her drink and sits back, folding an arm over her stomach. “Well, try again. You won’t be ruining our day. We’re going to have a nice luncheon without any of your outlandish antics today.”

Unbelievable. Even when I tell her the truth, she doesn’t take me seriously.

Slumping back against the couch, I rub my thumb over the pattern cut into the crystal, imagining what it would be like to talk about a new partner with a normal family.

“He’s a veteran,” I murmur, deciding that pretending is as close as I’ll ever get.

“He flies for Uncle Lou. He’s got two little sisters that he dotes on.

And…he thinks the sun shines out of my ass.

” A sardonic laugh chuffs out of my lungs as I bring the glass to my lips.

“God knows why,” I mumble, taking a sip, but it’s not funny anymore.

It’s just…sad. “And…I think I’m in love with him. ”

Scotch. Definitely scotch, I decide as the liquid burns its way down my throat. It’s nice to feel something other than the ache in my chest for a moment. Glancing up, I realize I’ve done that thing again where I lose track of time.

Mom is staring at me, mouth parted like she just swallowed her tongue. Shit. I guess I pretended aloud. Dad tugs at the collar of his shirt, which isn’t tight by any means, and turns to stare out the window.

“You have nothing to say? You always have something to say,” comes Mom’s anxious voice, but she’s not looking at me. Huffing, she shakes her head and closes her eyes, muttering, “This is your fault.”

Why do I feel like I missed something? Are they talking about something else, or did I only think I said all that stuff about Lucas aloud?

“ My fault?” Dad exclaims, spinning around. “Oh my God, not this again.”

“Excuse me?” I chime in, wondering what the hell I missed.

Mom rises from the couch and paces in the opposite direction of Dad, making a guttural noise and waving a dismissive hand. “You’re just like your father. Nothing’s ever good enough for you.”

Just like Dad? I’m nothing like Dad. Everything is good enough for Dad. The man never complains about anything. “What are you talking about?”

“ One time, Loretta,” Dad interrupts, giving her a pointed look. “It was one time, forty years ago.”

“I know how long ago it was! I was there!” Mom snaps, her hand balling into a fist at her side.

“Oh, for God’s sake. Now? Do we have to do this right here? Right now? ” Dad sighs, setting his drink on his desk and shoving a hand in his pocket.

“Apparently!” Mom squawks, extending her palm out toward me. “Our son has gone from a womanizer to…a…a man-izer !”

“What?” My confused retort is mirrored by my father.

I glance between the two of them, feeling like I’m getting a case of whiplash.

Rising, I hold up a hand, because clearly Mom is having a senior moment, or I fucking missed some huge connotation between how my being with a man has anything to do with my father. “Wait. What am I missing?”

“This has nothing to do with me,” Dad says under his breath, eyes still locked on Mom.

“And did you hear him? He said he loves the man. Maybe he’s finally going to settle down.

That’s what you’ve always wanted,”—he gestures to her as my brain tries to process what I’m hearing—“but listen to you. You’re still not happy. When will you ever let it go?”

Dad’s…got no complaints about this? And he’s standing up to Mom for once in his life. What is happening?

“Um…hello?” I pipe in, but they’re like staring contest champions.

“With my brother! My brother, of all people!” Mom shrieks, stomping her foot like a debutante.

“Wait, what?” I am not fucking Uncle Lou. How in the hell did she get that from what I said?

“We were drunk!” Dad barks. “I told you that.”

“You weren’t drunk the first time!” Mom shoots back.

“That was before I even met you! I’ve told you this. It was just a fling.”

Bringing her balled fist up to her temple, Mom’s eyes pinch shut. “You kissed him at our wedding!”

Holy. Fuck.

“I was drunk!” Dad defends. “I didn’t even think he was going to show up, and he came back from the service.

None of us had seen him for a long time.

I was happy. It was stupid. I know that.

I was just saying goodbye. He pushed me away, and I was glad he did.

How many times do I have to tell you I’m sorry?

You’re all I ever wanted. I’ve done everything I could to make it up to you for the last forty years. ”

It feels like I just walked onto the set of a soap opera that used to be my boring parents’ life. “ You and… Uncle Lou ?” I babble, hoping like hell someone will finally make this all make sense.