Page 109 of Ripped & Shipped
“You pulled over to comment on my post?”
I look at my phone. Sure enough, Chris commented.
@got.your.six.now.:
Dude. She’s taken and happy, as the photos show. Show some respect and leave her alone.
“You commented on his comment?”
“Yeah. You can block him. But we both know he’ll come back under another name. Plus, keeping him here gives us a way to monitor him. I figured it was time for decisive action. I let him know you are happily taken. Hopefully he takes the clue and backs off.”
Happily taken. If only it were that simple.
* * *
Mom’s been nearly pestering me to death ever since rumors of Chris and me dating started circulating through town. I neatly avoided her calls and texts for long enough. She’s not going to cave. I finally decide to bite the bullet and make a visit out to her place. It’s Monday. My head’s still swirling from this weekend.
When I open the screen door to Mom’s house, I shout, “I’m here! Are you home?”
“Well, now. You finally decided to show your face?”
“I have a busy life, Mom. I know it seems like I do whatever I want, but I have a lot to do to keep my business going, and I went out of town Friday and just got back yesterday.”
“Oh, I know you were out of town. Nice to hear that from people at the grocery instead of my own daughter.”
“Am I on trial here? I popped in for a visit.”
“A trial, no. But Ella Mae …” she pauses and lifts a stack of magazines and coupons she clipped out of the newspaper from off a sofa cushion. “Here. Sit. Sit.”
I take a seat, knowing this is like getting a filling. You can put it off, but the pain only gets worse. Better to muscle through.
“You know how much I’ve warned you about putting your eggs in one basket. Men are fun. But they can’t all be relied on. And yes, I know I sound jaded.”
“Maybe, because you are slightly jaded.”
I say it. I’m not one to mince words and beat around the bush. I say what comes to mind unless it really shouldn’t be said.
“Maybe I am. I’ll give you that. But, sweet baby girl, you cannot date that man.”
There. She said it.
“I can, and I am.”
I know. I know. I’m not.
Mom has zero capacity to keep a secret. If I tell her Chris and I are faking, that news will fly around town like a flock of sparrows in springtime.
Besides, after that kiss and him inviting me to his friends’ house, I don’t even know what we’re doing. And Mom won’t only object to Chris and me dating. She wouldn’t want us to be friends, or even share the same air, if she could help it.
“I told you not to date him. He’s off limits.”
“Off limits because of you and your past, not me and mine. Do you find that a little unreasonable?”
“Ella Mae.” Mom sighs a weary sigh.
“I know. I know. I don’t need another history lesson about how Dad and Mrs. St. James were high school sweethearts, and how you lost him to a woman he can’t even have.”
Yeah. You heard that right. My dad dated Chris’ mom. They were even homecoming king and queen—as in, their photo is in a glass case in the hallway of Bordeaux High, on display for every student to walk by for a daily reminder of the bad blood between our families.
