Page 52 of Power Move

“What?”

“Put Daphne down there. Let her have it.”

“Why?”

“She’s gestating a human.”

“But, darling, you’re in charge.”

“I would like it to feel more egalitarian.”

I pushed my way over to the place cards and moved my card catty-corner from Eva.

“That’s good enough,” I said. “Better.”

“I had six children and had no special treatment,” Mum protested.

“Yes, mother, you had six children, but Dad treated you like a queen when you were pregnant—don’t deny it.”

“Cal worships the ground she walks on.”

“And that’s great. But she’s been busting ass while relegated to vegetables and I’d like to pump her up. The poor woman is always hungry,” I said.

“I blame the amount of donuts Cal let her eat for the first few months. That’s how babies come out with problems.”

I rolled my eyes. “Gestational diabetes is more genetic than anything.”

“We didn’t have that in my day!”

“They didn’t screen for it back then,” I protested.

I crossed back into the living room, leaving my mother to fuss with napkins. Eva poured another pop from the self-serve bar.

“Is your mother measuring place settings?” Eva asked.

I looked over my shoulder. “Yes.”

“Yeesh.”

“Look, I switched our seating arrangements.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Eva’s eyes narrowed, but her tone remained forcefully sweet.

“Because Mum is in a mood and wants to hook you up with Mr. Marketing,” I sighed. “And she’ll keep trying and trying, and it will wear on you.”

“Oh,” she calmed.

“I thought you were being an ass.”

“No. I am protecting you as I agreed I would. Is your room okay? Areyoualright?”

“You can back off, Mom,” she groaned. “I’m fine. It is… intense… but I will survive.”

I turned, looking over the patio, trying to keep things neutral, my thoughts anything but.

“You look lovely,” I said, unable to hold back. “The color is beautiful on you.”

“You really?—”