Page 7 of Broken Pact

She brushes away a stray hair with the back of her wrist. “Yes, well, your father is working and since none of my children seem to have time for me, it’s a good thing I have a job, isn’t it?”

“Mom.” Her name comes out on a sigh, stretching the three letters into two syllables.

She flicks her wrist, like she can shoo away my words before they even leave my mouth. “Yes, yes, I know. You’re all terribly busy.”

I bite the inside of my cheek as my mom winds herself up for another lecture about how she thought retirement meant she’d get to see her family more, but we’re all too preoccupied with our own lives. I don’t think anyone realized how much time Mom spent with her mom until after Nana Jo had passed. Suddenly, Mom had all kinds of free time. Time that she wanted to fill with her kids. Which is great in theory, but hard when we all have jobs and lives and significant others. Like the time she just showed up at my brothers’ shared apartment while Graham was hooking up with the girl of the month. I love my brother, but I swear he’s allergic to commitment.

“I’m free right now if you need something.”

She tsks. “Well, no, I don’t need anything right now, honey. I was just calling to remind you about tomorrow.”

I widen my eyes and shake my head in faux shock. “Tomorrow? What’s tomorrow?”

Mom’s eyes narrow and she sits back, her voice full of disapproval. “It’s Sunday, Coraline.”

I tip my chin up and nod a few times, really leaning into those acting classes I took one summer. “Ah, right, right. I have a concert tomorrow night. Should be a blast.”

“Coraline Josephine Carter. Tell me you didn’t make plans on family dinner night.”

4

CORALINE

A slow smile stretches across my face as I shake my head slowly, laughter warming my chest. “You’re too easy, Mom. Of course I know it’s Sunday. We’ve only been doing this for . . . oh, I don’t know, a million years? The concert is after dinner.”

She rolls her shoulders back and looks to the right, off camera. “Yes, well, if I don’t have dinner every week, then how on Earth would I ever see my children?” There’s something off about her tone. It doesn’t have the usual lilt.

I’ve always been able to read my mother. It’s a skill I’ve only ever really learned how to master with a handful of people in my life. The four most important women. I’m sure there’s some deeper meaning behind that, but I’ve never cared enough to dive into it really.

My brows dig toward one another as the smile slides off my face. “What’s wrong?”

Her gaze snaps to mine, a forced smile curling across her face. “Nothing, honey. Everything is just perfect. We’ll see you tomorrow then? Alone, right?”

My cheeks heat at the unwelcome reminder of last month when I showed up with the guy I was seeing by my side. I clear my throat and let my gaze fixate on something across the room. “How many times do we have to talk about this? I told you that I’m not seeing Grant anymore.”

Mom tsks, but there’s no reprimand in it. “Yes, well, I was just checking. I’m still not sure what you saw in that man anyway, Coraline.”

I blow out a breath and refocus on her, forcibly injecting some dry humor into my voice. “Well, you’re in luck, Mom, because I’m only bringing myself and my sparkling personality.” I pause, remembering the dessert. “Oh, and I made something new to bring.” The excitement is palpable in my voice now, tilting the words up at the end. “I think Dad’s really going to like it.”

She switches topics easily. “Your father will eat anything, you know that, Cora.”

I chuckle. “I know, but I think he’s really going to like this one. There’s a difference.” And there is. I know he’s agreeable enough to eat anything I put in front of him and be happy. But I’ve been searching for the perfect thing to create that’s going to elicit a dramatic response from him. My father is almost too laid back. Unflappable and easy-going in the way my mother is high-strung and anxious.

“Yes, well, as long as it’s not some kind of goat’s milk cheese balls or whatever.” She waves her hand in the air, the hot pink garden glove flapping like a flag in the breeze. “I think you’ll be fine.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, swallowing the retort banging on the back of my teeth. I made the mistake of telling them what was inside a new recipe once. One single time. It was a mistake I didn’t make again.

“Nope, no goat’s milk in this one. Just a delicious summer staple.” My cheeks pinch with the forced smile, and my shoulders arch toward my ears.

“Hm, well, I’m not so sure about some of these things you feed us, you know. I’m a little nervous that you’re going to tell me I’m eating deep-fried lizard tongue one day or something,” she says around nervous laughter.

My phone vibrates with an incoming text. One of my roommates’ names flashes across the screen. Disappointment sinks into my gut like a stone in the lake. I just know she’s gonna cancel on me.

“Hey, Mom, I gotta go, okay? Harper just texted me, and she’s out of town, so I want to make sure she’s alright.”

“Oh, sure thing, honey. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you, bye.” She ends the call after she sing-songs the last three words in the same rhythm she always has. Like her love is a musical number and the only way she can communicate it is via song. My cousin is like that sometimes too. It must be a Broadway thing—they both have a deep appreciation for it.

I like it as much as anyone, but if I’m going for the music, then I’m going to a concert. The kind of experience that you can only ever achieve when you’re connecting with hundreds or thousands of other souls in the same venue, all of you drunk on the frenetic energy of live music, screaming lyrics, and letting everything slough off of you. Your obligations, fears. Sometimes even inhibitions.

---