Page 91 of Flawed

Mom wipes her tearstained cheek. "Of course you can. You're always welcome at our house."

"Excuse me. I'm here," I state, waving my hand in the air.

Zara turns. "I'll go pack."

"Zara!" I sternly say.

She tilts her head and crosses her arms over her chest. "I want to stay with Mamé and Papi."

Hurt fills me. I know I've brought this on with my decisions and not having a good enough excuse to give her about her father. Yet, I'm clueless as to what I could tell her that would make her drop it. I sigh. "I thought you wanted to go to the movies tomorrow."

"Mamé will take me. Right?" she asks my mom, giving her a big smile.

"Of course, ma choupinette. If that is what you want to do," my mother coos.

I glance at the ceiling and take a few deep breaths. Maybe this is what I get for allowing my mom to watch Zara when I work. The two are inseparable, and sometimes that puts me on the sidelines. Plus, my mother spoils her.

I've also talked to my mom about not supporting me when Zara plays sides like this, but she only sees it as enjoying her granddaughter.

"Cool! I'll go pack my new jammies," Zara chirps and runs out of the room.

"Mom, you have to stop doing that," I state.

She widens her eyes, all innocent. "Doing what?"

I shake my head. "You know what."

"I'm just enjoying my granddaughter."

"I need your support."

"Don't you think it's time you told her a little more about her father?" Mom states.

I cross the island and step in front of her, lowering my voice. "And what would you have me tell her?"

Mom shrugs nonchalantly. "Maybe some details about him."

"You just want details," I accuse.

"I do deserve to know," she asserts.

I roll my eyes. "Here we go again."

"What?"

"Don't play innocent with me," I warn.

"I'm just saying that some details wouldn't harm her," Mom claims.

I scrub my face, tired of this conversation and feeling ganged up on.

My mom steps closer. "Let's change the subject. What are you going to do tonight now that you're free? Maybe go out with Jeff?"

I cringe inside. "Mom, I told you I broke it off with him."

She gives me her disapproving look, voicing, "I don't understand that. He's a good man with a decent job. You dated quite a while. I'm sure Zara would have loved him. Maybe she'd even stop asking about her father."

I gape at her.

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