Page 4 of The Love Playbook

“I don’t know,” I lie.

“I heard it’s serious this time.”

Fuck small towns.

“Yeah, I don’t really know, Mom, but I’m almost there. Can I let you go?”

“Sure. Fine. I wouldn’t want you to miss precious seconds with your father. Forget about the fact that I’m all alone and the one who really needs you.”

Right. Mom always needs something.

On that note, I bite my tongue and turn onto Lattimore Drive, my father’s new street with his fancy new house. “I know, and I’m sorry, okay? But I’ll be there tonight. Why don’t you go take a bubble bath or have a glass of wine?” I suggest, knowing she’ll do no such thing.

“You know wine makes my anxiety worse.”

“Right.” I chew on my lower lip as I pull into my father’s driveway, making a mental note to pilfer some of my father’s wine before heading to her place next, because if I’m to survive, I’m going to need it. Shit, I’ll need a whole wine cellar.

“Well, I’m here. I should go,” I say.

“Do you see her? Is she tall? I bet she’s tall. He always hated how petite I was.”

“Mom?”

“She’s probably blonde, too. With big blue eyes and?”

“Mom?”

“Bet she wears designer clothes. Probably never worked a day in her life, either. She’s probably after his money. It’s the only reason I could imagine anyone wanting to put up with that old toad.”

“Mom, you’re the same age, and you also stayed home with me.”

“So?” she says, sounding offended.

“So, you didn’t work outside the home, either.” Never mind the fact that she’s collected alimony for years. In fact, it’s the one thing that’s kept her afloat over the years since she can’t seem to hold a job.

“What are you trying to say?” she asks, sounding offended. “Is being a stay-at-home mom not work? Was I just lazing around all day?”

“You know that’s not what I meant. Just . . . You know what? Forget it.” I shake my head. “I have to go. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

I hang up the moment she starts ranting about something else, knowing it’s the only way to get her off the phone, and also knowing I’ll pay for it later.

I turn the ignition off and sit there for a moment, barely resisting the need to bang my head against the steering wheel. Instead, I glance up at the sprawling two-story with its sunny yellow exterior and big white porch, while mentally preparing myself for what waits inside.

Blowing the fringe of dark bangs out of my eyes, I open the door and trade the stuffy interior of my beater car for the crisp, cool autumn air.

Several leaves swirl by my feet as I make my way toward the porch. A smiling scarecrow perches by the wooden stairs, its stitched mouth curled into a mocking smile. I flip it the bird while I pass, climbing the porch steps before I hesitate at the door.

Even though my parents have been divorced for years, it still feels strange walking inside either of their homes without knocking, and even weirder that I feel like I need an invitation. I thought, or at least I hoped, that after leaving for school and spending so much time away, when I returned it might feel a little different?maybe a little less like a noose wrapped around my neck and more like coming home?but I was wrong.

Chapter 2

CHRIS

Garry, my mother’s boyfriend, tips his head back and laughs while I regale them with stories about my buddies and time thus far as a wide receiver for Ann Arbor. This isn’t the first time I’ve met Garry, and I’m relieved to see my initial impression of him wasn’t wrong. No man is worthy of my mother, but this guy seems to be as close as it gets. For starters, he’s not a douchebag?quite the opposite, actually?and both times we’ve hung out, we seem to hit it off.

It helps that he’s a huge Griffins’ football fan, and I’m more than happy to share insider information with him about the team and stroke his interest, mostly because this dinner tonight means a hell of a lot to my mother. She’s nervous about meeting Garry’s daughter, so if taking the reins and leading the conversation helps put her at ease, I’m more than happy tooblige. My mom deserves happiness, and it’s about damn time she’s tried to find a little slice of it since my dad died.

“Wine?” Garry uncorks a bottle of red, holding it up for inspection.

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