Page 55 of Enemy Crush
“You’re beautiful, Quinn. You don’t need a scrap of makeup.”
I dramatically rolled my eyes and waggled my ears. “I think I’m going deaf. Am I going deaf?”
“Oh, stop it,” Mom scoffed.
“You’ve always told me to wear makeup and make myself presentable and to—”
“Well, you know what? I was wrong!” Mom snapped, but it’s like she was mad at herself, not me. “You don’t need makeup at all. You’re gorgeous without it. I’ve noticed this week you’ve not bothered to wear any and I’ve never seen you look more radiant.”
A wave of emotion hit me, my throat clogging. Radiant? Mom was complimenting me.
“It’s like you’re blossoming into this beautiful young woman,” she carried on, taking her hand off of the steering wheel to gesture between us. “And look at us, we’re talking, we’re doing things together...I feel like I haven’t been there for you, but these past few weeks...I don’t know...” Thankfully she put her hand back on the wheel, the car veering off toward the middle of the road. “I like it. I like this.”
“What? Driving me to work at the crack of dawn?” I joked.
“Yes,” Mom said simply. “And talking to each other like we’re not the enemy.”
I squished Floyd harder, absorbing Mom’s words. Yeah, we had become closer in recent weeks. It was almost like having no money had changed us...in a good way.
“There’s nothing like bonding over chores,” I said with a laugh.
“Or being a one car family,” Mom added.
“And being broke,” I said, turning to face her again. “Mom, I know you’ve been selling your bags online.”
Mom gasped. “What? How do you know that?”
“I saw your bags in your room and I found your account online,” I said. “Mom, why didn’t you tell me things werethatbad?”
“Is that why you signed up for the harvest?” Mom asked.
I didn’t answer that, saying, “But it’s all your personal stuff.”
“Yes, and I realized I don’t need it all,” Mom said. “I mean how many bags does a woman need?”
“You used to say you can never have too many bags. Or shoes,” I said.
“Another thing I was wrong about,” Mom said.
“Or sunglasses,” I carried on, “or earrings, or bracelets.”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” Mom said, rolling her eyes as we pulled up to the curb. “Looks like we’re early.”
The Hamlin truck wasn’t there yet, but I unbuckled. “Thanks. See ya later.”
“Let me know when you get back,” she said, rummaging in her purse. “I should still be at the salon.”
“Yep. Enjoy your stretch class.”
“Have fun,” Mom said, handing me a $20 bill, “love you.” The way she said it, so effortlessly, and the cash she was offering, stopped me in my tracks.
“Are you sure?”
Mom nodded. “You need to eat.”
“Thanks. Love you too,” I said, grinning ear to ear, my heart so full, I thought it might burst.
Chapter 19
