Page 82 of Never Pucking Ending

I close my notebook because I don’t want to stare at the long to-do list taunting me. Mom said she’d help me look for furniture today while she’s here so I can get an order placed. I don’t need anything fancy, just cozy. And until the store has the shelves, I can’t bring anything inside, or it’ll get covered in dust while Dane and his employees work on everything.

“You know, speaking of Dane—”

Not happening. “We’re not doing this,” I tell her, procuring my own cup of coffee—my third of the day—and taking a long sip while she watches me.

“Doing what?”

I deadpan. “I love you. You know that I love you. But you asking me about my dating life, or lack thereof, is going to go nowhere fast. We’ve been through this before.”

She sets her mug down carefully onto the counter. “I was going to say that I spoke to Jennifer, and she mentioned that he and his ex-girlfriend seem to be rekindling their flame. I don’t think his mother loves it, but she thinks he’s happy.”

I already knew that, so I wonder how I should play this. “Oh,” I say aloud, wrapping my fingers further along the sides of my warm coffee cup. “I think he mentioned that once.”

Casual. Nonchalant.

Mom makes a humming noise like she has an opinion about that, and I don’t want to ask. I really don’t.

But I do. “What?”

She shrugs. It’s the kind of shrug that says, ‘I have a lot of thoughts on the matter, but I’ll only share them if you want me to’. It’s her all-knowing one. The motherly one that makes me want to groan in exasperation.

“What?” I repeat, feeling my shoulders droop. “I can tell you want to say something. You’ve never been bashful before, so you may as well not start now.”

That has her smiling. “I just can’t help but wonder if the reason he went back to his ex is because he didn’t think you were interested.”

Of course she thinks that this is my fault. And maybe she’s right. Maybe Dane decided he wasn’t getting anywhere with me, and his ex is a familiar person to talk to and be around. But she doesn’t know the real reasoning, and neither do I. Entertaining speculation won’t get us anywhere.

“Or they could be soulmates who were always going to get back together,” I counter, blowing on the steam of my drink. “We’ll never know the reason they got back together unless he explicitly says. It doesn’t have to be because of me. We only saw each other a couple times.”

Once again, she studies me in that all-too-knowing way that makes me want to squirm. “It could be as simple as that. Though, Jennifer doesn’t seem to like his ex that much. Hard to believe soulmates could garner that sort of reaction.”

I roll my eyes. “You don’t know their situation, Mom. And hasn’t Jennifer always been picky about people? I remember her coming over once when I was younger and saying she didn’t like Dane’s high school girlfriend because she chewed with her mouth open.”

“In her defense, that is annoying. You’ve broken up with people for the same reason.”

Okay, she has a point.

Misophonia is a thing.

“What about that time she called you complaining that his other high school girlfriend came over for Christmas and brought bacon wrapped cocktail weenies?”

Mom defends her friend again. “She was on a vegetarian diet.”

“You know I like Jennifer, but she experimented with new diets every week. Can you really blame Dane’s ex for bringing something delicious over trying to be nice? She didn’t have to bring anything.”

This time, Mom doesn’t say anything.

So, I give her a soft smile. “If Dane and I did click, I’m sure Jen would have found something she didn’t like about me too.”

“What could she have possibly complained about? You’re perfect.”

The snort that comes out of me is pig-like. “I love that you think so, but that isn’t true. I’m far from perfect. I didn’t have a skincare routine until I was, like, twenty-six. I only load the dishwasher after the sink is full. I never do laundry, fold it, and put it away on the same day, so they just sit in the basket for at least a day or two.” And I will never love her son the way I have always loved Jesse.

Yeah, I don’t mention that part even if it’s the biggest reason she wouldn’t like me.

Mom’s eyes go to sink, which has two plates, two forks, and a bowl in it. Then she winces, like she’s realizing how flawed I really am.

“Your clothes are going to be wrinkled,” she chides. “I taught you better than that.”