“Oh, hell no. We’re over.” I chugged, suffering through the burn, because Mom’s coffee was the bomb. “But that bulldozer will have to figure it out on his own. I’m done.”
I relayed the details of my horrid morning. The fight. The humiliation. My ruined blouse. The stranger with the dreamy eyes who did nothing but look at me like I was everything he’d ever wanted in the world… And wow, thinking back, I’d suffer again to bear the weight of that gaze.
“What happened to the guy?”
I looked up from my drink to find Mom leaned over the counter, chin resting in the palm of her left hand, a knowing smirk twisting her pink-tinged lips.
“I didn’t stick around to find out.”
She blew a raspberry. “Too bad. Sounds like a keeper, to risk life and limb over a woman he’s never met.”
“Yeah, too bad. The man might’ve been my soulmate. Now he’s possibly dead, or at the very least, pulverized because of my embarrassing lapse in judgement when it comes to dating.” Dropping my face to my hands, I shook off the funky vibes and laughed. What else could I do?
Mom raised her mug. “Good riddance, Holden Oswald Travers the Third.”
I lifted my cup to hers. “Damn straight.”
Mom mumbled, “I always hated that name.”
I tapped her mug again. “Amen to that.”
Dad strode into the room, his thick gray hair wet from his shower, his shirt unbuttoned, his belt buckle undone. “What are we celebrating?” he asked, sleepy eyes brightening when he looked at Mom.
He slid a weathered hand over her hip, up her spine, then settled on the nape of her neck before pulling her close. A kiss on her forehead. Next, her nose. Then downward to devour her lips. He pulled back, whispered, “Yummy,” making Mom giggle. He then topped off his assault with a sharp smack to her ass. Same routine, every morning, for as long as I could remember. Swear to the good Lord above, Charles and Linda King fell more in love every passing day.
“Mornin’, Nugget.” Dad kissed the top of my head, grabbed the drink out of my hand, and took a long swig.
Holding my coffee hostage, he stared at me long and hard. “Well?”
“I’m happy to report that Holden will not be the father of your grandchildren. It’s over.”
“That’s my girl.” He ruffled my hair. “I always hated his name. Besides,” Dad continued, “he wasn’t your soulmate.” Dad wiggled his eyebrows and turned to the sink before I could shoot him a glare.
“He’s right.” Mom never wasted an opportunity to remind me I’d met my soulmate in the hospital on the day I was born. “You’re going to marry a man named Caleb.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Well, when will I meet this Caleb? I’m gonna be an old maid soon.”
“I wish I knew, baby.” Mom held a palm to her heart. “Fate works on its own top secret schedule.” She bent to pull something out of the cupboard and said while out of sight, “I wish I wouldn’t have lost that woman’s number. I just know we could’ve been great friends.”
Legend had it my mother and my soulmate’s mother had met in the maternity ward while walking the hallways late at night in hopes of speeding up their labor.
I’d heard the story countless times but never tired of the way Mom’s eyes glazed over when she relived that memory.
“Was the funniest thing.” Her voice now muffled, she continued. “You cried and cried. And the second I held you next to that little baby boy, you stopped and smiled. At barely two days old, you smiled.”
Unlikely, I know, but there was no convincing Mom otherwise. Not for lack of trying.
On and on, she went. Dad, still at the sink but now facing me, finished my mug of coffee while he brewed another cup, this time in a travel mug, his gaze glued to Mom’s ass while she dug through the cupboard.
When she surfaced with an ancient brown-tinted glass cake pan, I gasped. “Oh. My. God. You’re making Auntie Mercy’s Mud Cake?”
“For dinner this weekend.” She blew a lock of dirty blond hair out of her face.
“Lacey’s gonna weep with joy when I tell her.” The chocolate gooey concoction had been the star attraction at every family gathering since I was in diapers and had nursed Lacey and I through many adolescent dramas.
Mom winked, her smile triumphant. “Well, an epic breakup deserves epic cake.”
“You’re the best mom ever.”
“I know.”
I hopped off the stool. “I gotta get to work.” I kissed my mother, then Dad, snatching the travel mug from his fingers.
He chuckled. “Love ya, Nugget.”
“Love you guys. See you Sunday.”
“Go ahead and say it.” I stopped outside the painted brick building and pulled Lacey clear of a hurried delivery woman.
My best friend batted her thick, dark lashes, smirked, and then said, “I told you so.”
“You so did.”
“So, you just walked away. You don’t know if he’s alive or dead?”
“Oh, he’s alive. Blowing up my phone. Mad I’m not pining over him at the hospital.” I slapped a hand over my forehead. “God, what was I thinking with that guy?”
“You were thinking with your vagina, Nat Brat. It’s okay. We’ve all been there. What’s important is that we learn from our mistakes.” She shot me a playful wink and tugged me toward the heavy wooden door. “Have you lost weight? You look about a hundred and eighty pounds lighter.”
“Ha. Ha. And correction, he weighed a hundred ninety-five pounds, according to his Instagram feed last week.”
“Must’ve been a bad fight if he’s in the hospital.”
“Don’t care. He got what was coming.” Lacey and I weaved through the tables until we found a booth in the back corner of the club, our favorite spot to people-watch.
The after-work crowd dwindled while the college kids slowly filled the dark space. Lacey and I sipped our first drinks, Barolo, of course, ordered another, caught up on our week’s events, and as
