Chapter 9 Misty
MISTY
“How am I still not able to do this?” Mom wails. There’s batter spattered on the ceiling. Cocoa is licking up spilled syrup all over the floor, and eggs are burning on the stove.
“Mom, I told you.” I yawn, stumbling down into the kitchen. “I will make breakfast. It’s the least I can do since you all are letting me stay here.”
“We thought… well, Ryan thought you might be, you know, ‘busy’ with Talbot.”
“Busy with—gross, Mom, no.” I take the eggs off the stove.
Mom gives me a weird look because it’s weird for a girl who’s allegedly with a guy who looks like Talbot to describe him being in her bed as gross.
I backtrack. “That is to say, I just would never do… that… in Ryan’s house. Grandma Pam would throw a fit. No sleepovers, remember?”
“That’s more for the younger kids. Mornin’, kiddo.” Ryan stomps in from the mudroom.
Great. Nothing says You’re careening off the cliff of spinsterdom like your parents wanting you to sneak a guy up to your childhood bedroom.
“Got more eggs.” Ryan holds up the grocery sack. “What do you need me to do?”
Rachel shoos him out. “I got this.”
“I think you mean Misty’s got this.” Smiling, Ryan gives her a kiss.
It’s still hard for me to believe that my mom got her happy ending. She always believed in romance, that there was a prince out there searching for her and if she wished upon a star, then one day, he’d be hers.
I believed a woman needed to be her own white knight and therefore began working as soon as I could count.
That’s the benefit of being a bigger girl.
People thought I was way older than I was and let eight-year-old me do odd babysitting and pet-sitting jobs.
I knew a guy like Ryan was never going to waste his time on a girl like me, so I never focused on dating or boys. Secret crush on Austen notwithstanding.
Yep. Like I said, verrry late bloomer.
“Maybe you can go get all the boys up,” Mom suggests.
Ryan salutes.
I scrape all the burned food into the trash can.
“Sooo,” my mom draws out. “Tell me about Talbot. Where did you two meet? Military man, hm?” She leans over the kitchen counter like we’re just two girlfriends making brunch together and gossiping. “I want all the details.”
I choke out a nervous laugh. “The details? It’s not that exciting.
It’s not like you and Ryan, where he saw you across the room, bought you a single white rose, and it was love at first sight.
” I measure out flour for new waffle batter.
“Also, Mom, I have the canisters labeled.” I taste her old batter as I scrape it out. “You definitely grabbed the salt.”
“If you’d just leave them in the containers they come in, I wouldn’t make this mistake,” she whines.
“A good homemaker transfers her ingredients to stylish ceramic containers,” I say stubbornly.
“I regret getting you that subscription to Martha Stewart Living when you were ten.” Rachel sighs dramatically.
My mom always wanted us to have boyfriends together when I was younger.
However, I was not like her. Men don’t see me walking into a hotel lobby and plan an elaborate surprise trip to Paris.
Shoot, they don’t even see me and want to hook up in a closet.
I only lost my virginity to Austen because Sienna got me drunk and triple-dog-dared me to proposition him when I graduated from college.
Things were easy for Sienna. My best friend would come home from dreamy dates where guys would wine and dine her. I always felt dumpy and awkward next to her. I couldn’t even muster up the balls to ask the cute boy at school if I could borrow his eraser.
“Come on, I’ve been waiting forever to gossip with you about boys.” My mom completely ignores the fruit that she’s supposed to be cutting up and holds out her empty coffee mug to me and makes sad noises.
I rummage around for the homemade caramel-hazelnut syrup so I can make her favorite.
“Does he buy you little presents? Do you guys go on dates? What’s his love language?”
Talbot’s love language? Violence.
“He’s not really a dating kind of guy.” I clear my throat.
Mom glares at me. “So you two just started hooking up. Mistletoe Evans.”
“I mean, that’s how me and Austen started,” I mutter.
Mom swats me with a towel. “No, it’s not. You all were friends and neighbors, and it grew into love, then…” Rachel sighs heavily. “This is why I always tried to share my relationships with you, Misty, so that you’d see what a healthy relationship is like. So that would be your standard.”
“That’s your standard, Mom. Guys like Ryan don’t want to be with girls like me.” I usually try to keep my mouth shut; my mom doesn’t get it. Some of us aren’t going to get a white knight. We have to settle for the pig farmer with a gambling problem.
“You’re beautiful, Misty.”
“Mom, just drop it. It’s too early for this conversation. I haven’t even had coffee.”
“You deserve the best.” Mom shakes me. “You’re amazing and wonderful. Any guy is lucky to have you. But Talbot? I dated boys like him. He’s just like your father. If he won’t even bother to take you on a date, then it’s all for show. He’s just trying to get in your pants.”
Even that would be a bar too high for Talbot. He doesn’t even think I’m pretty.
Is Dad a mercenary and an assassin? Dad is an asshole but not in a fun way, in more of a broken-promises and constantly-getting-whiney-when-you-won’t-give-him-another-loan-after-he-didn’t-pay-back-the-last-three way.
Talbot’s just a cocky asshole. One who’s increasingly hard to get rid of.
“Well, if he’s just like Dad, then that’s good. He won’t stick around too long. You just have to bear with him for a few more weeks.”
“Your grandmother is not going to like this.” Rachel shakes her blond hair. “I swore up and down that Talbot was a clean-cut, patriotic military man with a good job.”
“I don’t think Granny Keagan cares.”
“Pamela cares. She gave me an earful last night about you and that Talbot. You know how she and Kathy are.” My mom lowers her voice. “They already think I seduced Ryan with my loose morals.” She wiggles her fingers in my face. “We have to make a good impression on Ryan’s family.”
It’s the same speech she’s been giving me for the past eighteen years.
“They already think we’re after his money—a single mom with a teen daughter.”
I don’t remind her that I’m rounding the corner to thirty, especially since I’m broke as a joke and in no way, shape, or form financially independent, thanks a lot, Talbot.
“We don’t want to make waves, Misty. We’ll pay our own way. Don’t be trashy.” She sighs. “I’m really concerned now about this Talbot. Just promise me you’ll use good judgment and you won’t make Ryan’s family hate us?”
“I promise, Mom.”
I cross my arms, hugging myself tightly as Ryan comes in with the bacon from downstairs. He looks between our tense faces and gives Mom a questioning look.
As I head up the stairs to put on some real clothes, I hear Ryan whisper to her, “I told you she’s just going to dig in if we say we don’t like him.”
No chance of that. I’ll never be with Talbot.