Page 41 of Sing Your Secrets
“Would you like to order your fourth mimosa, Mom?” I blink at her with the flattest expression possible, daring her to be the world’s biggest hypocrite. She hates when I drink during the day and also believes brunch was created by walk-of-shamers as an excuse to normalize waking up late and binge-drinking before noon.
“Oh, no. Probably best I get some food in me. What did you order?” She eyes my half-empty plate. “That looks good.”
“Chicken Primavera. Mani got the shrimp scampi.” Not that you can tell, her plate is basically licked clean. “It was good, right?” I look at my friend who is wearing the most amused smile.
“Delicious,” she says enthusiastically and gives my mom and dad—who are seated way too close on the other side of the table—a genuine smile. “Highly recommend. Hey, Reese?”
“What?”
“Check your phone, I thought I heard it buzz.”
I squint at her. “So?”
She narrows her eyes dangerously. “It could be work,” she hisses.
Rolling my eyes, I do as she requests and pull my phone out of my hunter-green suede Kate Spade handbag. It’s one of the few handbags I purchased on my own and did not steal—borrow—from Quinn. Looking at my phone, I have two messages.
Miles:Can hardly focus on work today. So distracted thinking about you.
Mani:Would you fix your face? You look constipated. These are your parents for fuck’s sake.
Lifting my eyes from the screen, I glare at Mani.
“Who was it?” she asks innocently, cocking her head to the side and flashing me a toothy shit-eating grin.
“Someone cute and then someone annoying.” But I take a deep breath and blow it out. Be nice. These are your parents. Yeah, it’s not abnormal at all that sworn enemies are suddenly playing footsie under the table.
“I can’t decide.” Mom sets her large menu on the table and looks to her right. She instantly returns Dad’s soft, sweet smile. “What sounds good to you? Do you want to order two dishes and share?”
Share?Okay, enough!
“What in the actual fu—”
“Ahem!” Mani interrupts me with obvious, bulging eyes. “Ms. Bennett, want to head to the bar with me? I was hoping to get your private advice on a legal matter.”
“Real subtle, Amani.” Mom rolls her eyes. “But, sure. And for the thousandth time, please call me Robin. You’re making me feel old.”
Letting my friend lead, Mom follows Mani to the large bar at the far side of the restaurant.
“What the fuck?” I finish asking as soon as they are out of earshot and it’s Dad and me alone at the quaint, cloth-covered table.
He sips from his glass of iced tea and pretends my reaction is unwarranted. “What the fuck, what? That I’m sleeping with your mother?”
“Dad!” It’s probably worth noting that I get my forwardness from my dad. He taught me to ignore appropriate social etiquette. But not even I can ignore how gross this all is.
“Sorry, that was crass. I meant,” rolling his eyes with a smirk on his face, he raises his fingers, making air quotes, “making love.”
“Dude. Yuck.”
He chuckles at my discomfort. “Reese, what’s the issue? Aren’t most kids happy when their parents get back together?”
I lean into the table and lower my voice. “Back together? There is no back. You guys were never together.”
He raises his thick, dark eyebrows. “I mean…we were together long enough to make you.”
“When you were teenagers! You literally told me not three months ago that Mom was Cruella without the fashion sense.”
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t say that,” he mumbles before taking another sip from his glass. Grabbing a lemon wedge from the small saucer on the table, he spritzes his drink with citrus.