29. Don’t Poke The Crazy Lady
CARTER
I’ve been sitting in the same place for the last thirty-seven minutes. Not that I’m counting or anything. I shouldn’t be surprised. This is the norm in this household and has been my entire life.
But still, I groan, running two aggravated hands through my hair before dragging them down my face in slow motion.
“Mommm, come onnn,” I beg, slumping against the couch. “Let’s gooo.”
“I’m not done putting my face on, Carter!” she shouts back.
“You don’t need a face. Your face is perfect.” I’d tell her she was Beyoncé right now if it’d get her ass out here. Except I’ve tried; it doesn’t work.
Flopping down, I throw one leg over the back of the couch, the other resting on the floor. “I don’t understand why you can’t be ready when you tell me you’ll be ready.”
Mom is famously late for everything. Jennie’s bad, too, but Mom is on a whole other level.
Dad used to throw her over his shoulder and cart her out of the house, which is precisely why I told her Jennie’s recital starts at five, not 5:30 like it actually does.
A little white lie goes a long way in ensuring we’re on time for absolutely anything that requires leaving the house.
“And I don’t understand why you still expect me to be ready when I tell you I’m going to be! You should know me better by now.”
She sticks her head into the living room. She’s got mascara on her left eye only, making it look ten times bigger than the right. I make a face and cower away. She rolls her eyes and flips me the bird but drops her mascara wand in the process.
“Karma,” I murmur, earning myself a flick to the forehead and a tug on my ear. I swat my hand around, but she runs down the hall, cackling.
“ One more minute ,” she sings.
I sigh because I don’t believe her. Pulling out my phone, I do what I’ve been avoiding for the last hour: open my messages with Olivia.
I haven’t heard from her since lunchtime, and her message then included a massive thank-you, a shit ton of hearts and happy faces, and then a picture of the empty tray of pasta, finished with a picture of her licking an Oreo. That last picture is now her contact picture.
But she finished work at three and I still haven’t heard from her. I’m dying to know if she found the gifts I left her yet.
I lay my phone on my chest and fold my arms behind my head, crossing my feet at my ankles. If I have to spend my days waiting on women, I might as well get comfy.
My eyes pop open when my phone starts vibrating on my chest. The picture of Olivia licking her cookie shines on my screen and I scramble up to sitting.
“Hi, Ollie girl.” I flash her my best grin but it quickly transforms into a frown at her sad expression. “What’s wrong? Kids got you down?”
There’s a crash somewhere behind me, and three seconds later my mom comes skidding into the living room, breathless, both eyes finally done. She points at my phone and mouths Olivia? It’s Olivia? Then she jumps up and down, covering her mouth with both hands.
She’s fifty-two, in case anyone’s wondering whether my mom is, in fact, an adult.
I smoosh my phone into my chest. “Really? That’s what gets your ass out the door?”
She only grins, settling on the floor, legs crossed as she stares up at me with wide, innocent eyes. She’s unbelievable and so, so nosy.
“No,” Olivia says into my chest. I pull my phone back to find her rubbing at one eye. “Well, not really. Your typical short jokes and all that.” She waves dismissively before sighing, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks at her lap. “Carter. We have to talk.”
“Uh-oh,” I muse with a chuckle. “Someone’s in trouble.” I balk at the unimpressed look on her face. “That was stupid. I don’t know why I said that. It’s me. I’m in trouble.”
I’m lucky Olivia finds my goofiness endearing, because at least I get the twitch of her mouth when she tries not to smile. I count it a win, like I do every time she fails at being mad at me. But I want to see that full beam, feel the way it lights me up like sunshine.
So I pull my dimples in and try again. “You look gorgeous. So gorgeous. Flawless, really, but you always are.” I gesture at my hair before popping my chin on my knuckles.
“Did you do something new to your hair? Suits you. You’re the best girlfriend out of all the girlfriends I’ve ever had. My favorite.”
Those mocha eyes narrow dangerously before Olivia tips forward with a laugh. My mom’s bouncing around on her ass, hands clasped beneath her chin. I hold my foot out, trying to shove her away. It doesn’t work; she’s too persistent.
“I’m the only girlfriend you’ve ever had,” Olivia manages through a giggle.
“Right.” Charming grin? Check. “’Cause you’re my favorite.”
Her eye roll is one of my favorite things about her, because I love her sass, her feistiness. Olivia works so damn hard to keep that oversensitive side tucked inside, but I see it.
“Why is my house so warm?” she finally asks, playing with that plump lower lip.
I run a palm over my proud, puffed-up chest. “I’m sure I’d have no idea about that.”
She blinks up at me. “Carter, you bought me a furnace.”
My mom becomes a cat, clawing at my legs, nails digging in hard enough to warrant a silent scream from me as I hide my phone and keel over, pushing her off me.
“Furnace?” Mom whisper-yells. “You bought her a furnace?” She claps her hands ten thousand times. “I knew you’d be a giant suck!”
“Shut up,” I hiss, tossing a pillow at her face. She dodges it, picking it up and clutching it to her chest while she grins like a fool. She’s way too invested in my love life.
I turn back to Olivia. It’s a mistake. Or maybe the furnace was a mistake.
“Oh shit.” Those brown eyes turn the most interesting shade of hazel, shining with hints of gold and mossy sage as they widen and fill with tears.
“Baby, no. Please don’t cry. Why are you crying?
” There’s nothing I can do to help Olivia when she’s stuck inside my phone, and my mom clearly thinks it’s hilarious.
“I don’t know what to do. Are you okay? Do you need me to come over?
Help me,” I beg my beautiful, sensitive girl.
“I can’t afford to pay you back right now,” Olivia cries, swatting at her cheeks. She buries her face behind a couch cushion when her tears don’t slow. “I’ll set up a payment plan,” I think she mumbles. Hard to tell when she’s smothering her face like that.
My mom’s rocking back and forth on the ground, clapping at my knees. I love her , she mouths. I push her away with my hand on her face.
“I don’t want or need you to pay me back. It’s a gift. And take that pillow off your face.”
Olivia rips it away. “A gift for what? It’s not Christmas! And you got me a Christmas gift and I got you nothing! I ran out on you!”
“Birthday?” I try. It’s a little too early to claim Valentine’s Day, but the birthday card is weak as hell. I distinctly remember Olivia telling me she turned twenty-five in October.
“My birthday’s in October!” She’s crying harder now.
Definitely would’ve been better off claiming early Valentine’s Day.
“I wanted to do something nice for you. I wanted to give you something you weren’t able to give yourself right now. I couldn’t stand the thought of you being so cold.”
She wipes the back of her hand across her eyes, hiccupping.
“If your cute little toes froze off, I don’t know what I’d do with myself.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m using you for your money.”
“I don’t know how I could possibly think that. It’s a gift. Just accept it.”
“Nobody’s ever done anything like this for me before.”
She should probably get used to it, ’cause I think I’m gonna spoil the shit out of her.
“I didn’t want you to be so cold, pumpkin.”
She melts at the nickname, cheeks tinting crimson, finally granting me that smile I’ve been dying for. “Thank you so much, Carter. I…you’re…I want to hug you,” she finally settles on.
“Oh my God !” Mom shouts out, collapsing dramatically onto her back. She springs off the floor and pounces on me. “I can’t help it! She’s adorable!”
“ Mom !”
A power struggle promptly ensues as she tries to steal my phone. An elbow soars through the air, hammering me in the nose as she throws herself over my lap and grabs for my phone.
“I just…wanna…say… hi ! Gimme the phone, Carter!”
“Get your grabby hands outta here!”
I manage to get a hold of one flail-y arm and pin it behind her back. She huffs out a heavy breath, blowing her bangs off her forehead with her famous mom-scowl. The anxious giggle coming from my phone has both of our heads turning to find Olivia watching us with curious amusement.
“I was hoping to hold off on the crazy train introductions a little longer,” I tell her, wincing when my mom flicks me in the temple. “You already met Hank; it’s only a matter of time before someone scares you away.”
Mom gasps, freeing her hand from mine to press it to her chest. “You introduced her to Hank before me?” She jerks my phone out of my hand and smiles softly. “Hi, Olivia. It’s so wonderful to meet you, even if it’s only over the phone.”
“Hi, Mrs. Beckett,” Olivia says with a bashful, wobbly smile. “I’m sorry. What a terrible first impression. I’m not usually this emotional.”
My accidental snort earns me another glare, this one from my girlfriend.
“Don’t worry, honey.” Mom thumbs at me. “This one cried at every single Disney movie. He’s always been a big softie.”
“Anyone who didn’t cry when that old lady drove Tod out to the forest and left him there is a monster.”
I don’t know how it happens, but not a minute later my mom’s already asked Olivia what her plans are for Easter and if she’ll be joining us on our family trip to Greece this summer.
“Okay, Mom, say byyye.” I don’t give her a chance to do so, grabbing the phone from her hand and locking myself in the bathroom. Sinking down to the edge of the tub, I run a hand along my jaw. “So, that just happened.”
Olivia snickers. “If your family had a TV show, I’d watch it.”