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I stormed upstairs to my bedroom and heard the front door shut soon after. I was angry with myself for letting things get this far. Mason was right. Tristan was completely off limits, and I needed to stay away.
But how could I?
Tristan
Family breakfast was, in theory, great. In reality, there was tension and veiled insults hurled between my mother and grandmother. Each one was laughed off as a joke, but there was an undeniable thread of truth.
It was torture, honestly.
The worst part was Shiloh was slowly catching on. She was smart, and getting older. She could make sense out of some things. A few nights ago, while I was tucking her into bed, she asked why Grandma and Gram didn’t like each other. I was stunned and had no idea what to say.
“Daddy, can I be excused and play outside?” Shiloh said, shoving the last few bits of her pancake to the side of her plate.
“Sure, I’ll just clear the dishes and then I’ll join you,” I said, standing up and collecting the plates.
“Isn’t that Arya’s job?” my mom asked, sipping her coffee and glancing down at her diamond-studded watch. “Where is she, by the way? It’s almost nine.”
“She’s off today, but someone will be coming in about an hour to clean.”
My mom was upset, so I immediately headed for the kitchen sink, trying to avoid eye contact. I waited there, hoping my mom would join Shiloh and my grandparents outside.
But, nope, she followed me in, surprisingly carrying the last of the cups.
“You don’t have to do that, Mom,” I said. “Go outside with everyone else. Enjoy the morning–it looks like it’s going to be another hot one today. Maybe we should all go spend some time at the pool?”
I was trying to distract her, hoping she would forget why she wanted to battle with me. But that was a wasted wish.
“Why would you get someone else to clean without telling me?”
I sighed. I guess the gig was up.
“Mom, Arya is a nurse, not a housekeeper. And if you took some time to actually come around, you know that it’s hard to be a caregiver and a maid every day.”
I started loading the dishwasher, desperate to avoid my mother’s gaze.
“I pay her fairly,” she said defensively.
“To be debated. Besides, not everything's about money, Mom. It’s the work. For one thing, there's simply too much for one person to do. And secondly, Arya is a trained nurse, not a housekeeper. We need her to give professional assistance to Gram and Pop. Not to clear the table."
“Well then, I guess I’ll have to reset her compensation to a part-time rate.”
“I would argue you're not paying enough for her expertise. You're paying her to support Pop and Gram's health. It’s not that she's part-time or full-time.” I stretched the truth a bit, hoping I didn’t just screw everything up for Arya. I’d make it right if my mom tried to pull anything.
“Why do you care so much?” she asked, looking at me curiously.
“Arya is like family. She's my best friend’s sister and I’ve known her forever. Why wouldn’t I care?”
I hated referring to her as a sister. That was definitely not how I actually felt about her. But there was no use explaining anything like that to my mom.
“There’s nothing going on there, right? You’re not interested in her,” she said that as a statement and crossed her arms, glaring at me.
“Of course I’m interested in her. We’re friends.”
“Don’t play dumb, Tristan. You know exactly what I mean.”
“You mean, like, do I want her to be my girlfriend?” I asked, laughing but feeling the burn in my heart, remembering what I wouldn't have. “Mom, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard today.”
“That’s funny. The rumor around town is that the two of you have been quite…close.” Her posture didn’t change. She was not happy, and I needed to fix this without screwing everything up. Arya and I hadn't even figured things out.
