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“Oh my, do you two know each other?” My mother chirped like this was some grand coincidence. “What a small world.”
“I didn’t know,” Daisy whispered.
I shook my head and mouthed, “You’re fine.” Then I gave my attention to my mother. “You want me to believe you just happened to come across my girlfriend—?”
“Girlfriend?” She sniffed. “You didn’t tell me you were seeing anyone.”
I held up a finger. “I don’t remember the last time you asked about my personal life. That isn’t the point, though. You were trying to manipulate Daisy, and I won’t have it.”
“I wasn’t,” she protested. “We were talking about her very interesting new business. I thought if she did weddings, I might tell Weston about her services.”
I stared down my nose at her. “He doesn’t take your calls, Mom. How would you have told him?”
She waved this minor detail off. “Oh, that isn’t true. He’s just busy, which is understandable. Your brother is a very important man. Sometimes he forgets things, but he always makes it right.”
She meant he’d forgotten to invite her to his wedding. As if he could have accidentally overlooked inviting his own mother. This was what she did. She carefully constructed a narrative that had little to do with reality. It had taken me almost thirty years to see her as clearly as Weston always had.
“You know that isn’t going to happen,” I stated.
She gasped softly. “Why are you speaking to me so harshly? In front of your new girlfriend, no less?” She swiveled to Daisy. “What did you say your last name was?”
Daisy shook her head. “I didn’t.”
My mother lifted the business card in her hand and read it as if it were the first time. “Dunham. Hmmm. You don’t happen to be related to the funeral home Dunhams? What a ghastly way to make a living.”
“I am related to them.” Daisy straightened her spine, one brow arching. “In fact, I finished embalming a corpse before coming here.”
While my mother sputtered, Daisy tapped her temple. “Did I remember to wash my hands…?”
My mother stumbled back, clutching at her chest. Her panicked eyes landed on me. Like I was supposed to save her. There was nothing to save her from except my naughty little Cupcake. I hooked my arm around Daisy’s shoulders, guiding her to my side.
“Miles, you can’t possibly think it’s a good idea to be seen in public with someone like…this. Have you no shame?”
“Plenty of it, thanks. I’m not interested in any more. I’m full up,” I quipped. “Excuse us, we have other people we need to talk to.”
She slid in our path, bringing us to a halt. “But, darling, I haven’t seen you in months. It would be lovely to sit together and catch up.”
“We speak every week,” I reminded her.
“You should come over for dinner. Bring Daisy, of course. Your father would love to meet her. Best not to bring up her last name, though. We’ve been for too many—" she dropped her voice to a mock-whisper, “—Aldrich funeral services at Dunhams’ for him to be comfortable with someone from that family in our home. But you know your father. Names don’t matter as long as she has a pretty face.”
“All right. That’s enough.” I gently pushed Daisy behind me, and she went without a fight. “Consider this our twenty minutes for the week. I’ll call you next week. You ever say anything remotely like you did now, twenty minutes will drop to zero in a flash. My girlfriend will never be a topic of conversation for you to bring up.”
Without a goodbye, I took Daisy’s hand in mine, and we walked away from my mother. Daisy was stiff, staring straight ahead. I was just sorry I hadn’t gotten her out of there sooner.
It wasn’t until we were in the car that she spoke again.
“I don’t like your mother.”
I groaned in frustration. It took a lot of effort to stop myself from slamming my head into the steering wheel. I’d just gotten back on Daisy’s good side. Of course we had to run into my mother, and naturally, she’d be on her worst fucking behavior.
“I’m so sorry, Daisy.”
She shrugged. “It isn’t like I haven’t heard similar all my life. No one likes to be reminded of their mortality. Being in the presence of someone whose family business is death can be uncomfortable for a lot of people.”
“To small-minded peons.” Reaching across the space between us, I slid my fingers into the back of her short hair. “There’s no one who reminds me more of all the sweet things about living than you do.”
A small puff of air escaped from between her lips, warming my arm. “That was really nice,” she whispered.
