Page 87 of The Upgrade

Maybe I’ll ask Logan to fulfill my final fantasy. The Sexy Seesaw, the Double Dip…whatever we’re calling it now. If I’m going to try DVP, it needs to be someone I trust.

But first things first. I let myself into my room, sagging with the weight of a long day’s events. I turned down a Titanic exhibitionist fantasy and then didn’t fuck the hot guy paid to indulge me in meaningless sex. My best friend’s brother—the one guy I want more than I should—rejected me like a vegan declining steak dinner.

Quite the day.

And yet, I’m still standing. I’ll get through this like I’ve gotten through everything else.

That’s something, right?

Grabbing one of the passionfruit seltzers from my fridge, I kick off my shoes by the closet. Padding barefoot onto the patio, I slip out my phone and go to the contacts.

It takes me a minute to find her. She’s not underMomor even her first name. I locate her number underBirth Giver, which makes me smile and feel sad at the same time.

I don’t speak with my mom very much. When I called to tell her about my broken engagement, the conversation felt stilted and brief. Her texts urging me to give Brock another chance just made it clear we’re on different wavelengths.

And starting now, I’m done trying to be on hers.

Mom answers on the second ring. “Eve? Honey, how are you? Have you and Brock made up? Couples fight sometimes, and it’s okay to?—”

“Brock fucked Jacinda on a sex swing.”

I have never, in my entire life, saidfuckto my mother. And I’m not even sure she knows what a sex swing is.

“Oh,” she says after a long pause. “Oh my.”

“Yeah.” Guess that got the message across. “Suffice it to say, we won’t be getting back together.”

“No, I—I don’t imagine you would.” There’s another long pause. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

I’m not even sure where to start. “I know how close you are with Aunt Linda, so I didn’t want to make that awkward.” Now that I think about it, that’s another case of me putting someone else’s feelings before mine. “And honestly? I felt ashamed.”

There. I’ve said it out loud now, haven’t I?

“Ashamed,” she says softly. “Of…not keeping your man happy?”

“Jesus.” Hearing her say it churns my stomach. Mostly because she’s a little bit right.

Time to put it all out there.

“I grew up with a normal curiosity about sex,” I tell her. “About masturbation and perfectly normal, pleasurable sexual contact, and you know what, Mom? That’s allnormaland healthy and…well, normal.”

Did I mention normal?

Mom doesn’t say anything right away. “Okay,” she says finally. “Okay, I’m with you there.”

“Are you? Because I don’t recall you being with me when Hank sex shamed your daughter for learning to orgasm with a vibrator.” I’m on a roll now and not stopping. “Or hooking up with the hockey captain in the backseat of a car because God forbid we fool around in a safe, comfortable home environment because guess what? Boys weren’t allowed in our rooms!” I’m speaking for Presley as well, though it wasn’t an issue for her.

Perfect Presley never fucked anyone in a car.

“I needed you to stand up for me.” I’m crying now, but so what? It’s way past time to get this out. “I needed a mother who looked at her idiot husband and said, ‘My daughter is normal and healthy and smart for exploring her sexual self. She’s beautiful and perfect just as she is.’”

Grabbing a tissue from a box on the table, I swipe at my leaky eyes. I’ve done it now. Pissed off my mother forever. There’s no coming back from this.

“Oh, Eve.” She takes a shuddery breath. “Oh dear.”

“Mom.” I don’t have a clue what she’s thinking.

“Men are such shits.”

---