Page 81 of Take A Number
“Fuck no,” I roar, and my chest expands and contracts like I have to manually tell my heart to keep beating. “I’ve never felt more unsafe with any woman in my entire life.”
The room goes silent as my words do what they need to do, and the world spins all around me.
“Then I guess this is goodbye,” Norah croaks, her eyes welling with tears.
She moves to leave, and I shift, blocking her path, my body subconsciously willing her to stay while my head knows what’s best. “This isn’t how we were supposed to end. It was a business deal, remember?”
“It stopped being a business deal the minute we started having sex, don’t you think?”
I close my eyes, shards of regret slicing through every inch of my body. I can’t believe I did this. I ruined us. I really am my father’s son. “Norah, I still want to be your friend.”
She nods, and an errant tear slides down her face. “Sure, that sounds good. We can be silent friends. Sort of like you’re a silent investor. It’s hard to tell if they exist without looking at the paperwork.”
With those parting words, Norah steps past me and heads downstairs and out of my house, leaving deafening silence in her wake.
My apartment doorbell buzzes, but it’s the hallway bell and not the street bell. I peel my face away from the Netflix marathon I’m currently in the middle of and wonder who the heck came up my apartment steps without being buzzed up?
I throw myself off the couch and make my way down the hall to peek through the peephole. The sight on the other side causes my entire body to convulse violently.
“Norah, open up, I know you’re home,” the terrifying voice muffles through the thick wooden door.
I hold my breath and splay my hands out on the door and duck in case the person can magically see me through the peephole.
“Norah Renee Donahue, open this door right now, or I swear I’ll make up for all those years I never spanked you.”
“Harsh words, Elaine,” I mumble before unchaining my door and opening it to reveal my mother in all her perfect, active-wearing glory. I bet Elaine has never gone a night without a perfect eight hours of sleep.
She blinks and looks me up and down like I’m a foreign object. “Why aren’t you downstairs opening the bakery? You do realize it’s Monday, not Sunday, right?”
“I know it’s Monday, Mother.” I roll my eyes and do my best to ignore the flashback of yesterday. “Rachael and Zander opened for me.”
“Why?”
“Because I had some calls to make.” I fiddle awkwardly with the wood on the doorframe and try to avoid her eyes in case they turn me into stone.
“I don’t understand.” She points at my baggy T-shirt I’ve been wearing for over twenty-four hours. “It’s nine thirty on a Monday morning, your second bakery opens on Saturday, and you’re up here lounging in your pajamas?”
“I’m surprised you remembered it’s opening,” I pout.
“Oh hush, I’ve had the open house invite on my calendar for weeks.” She pushes past me and makes her way down my hallway into my kitchen. “Norah,” she gasps, looking at the mess all over the counter. “What on earth?”
“What?” I ask sleepily, crossing my arms over my chest like a sullen teenager.
“Why does your kitchen look like you’ve been robbed?”
I shove a hand through my greasy bed hair. “I was baking.”
“It doesn’t smell like you’ve been baking.”
“I baked yesterday…just haven’t had a chance to clean up yet.”
My mother’s face twists up in disgust. “What did you make?”
“Cookie dough. I’d offer you some, but I ate it already.”
My mother nearly starts her own convulsions now. “What is going on here? This isn’t like you, not at all.” She moves into my kitchen and rolls her sleeves up before filling the sink with water. “Is this because of that boyfriend of yours? I do not care for him, Norah. Look at the influence he’s having on you. These pans are going to have to soak.”
“He’s not my boyfriend anymore,” I state flatly, dropping onto a barstool because my body feels heavy on my feet. “We broke up.”
