Catastrophe Queen

CHAPTER NINETEEN – MALLORY

“This is a terrible idea,” Mom said, closing the dishwasher. “Have you thought this through? Dating your boss?”

“We’re not dating,” I replied. “It’s one date. What can it hurt?”

“Famous last words,” Great Aunt Grace said. She waggled her finger at me. “There’s something wrong with that boy, let me tell you, Mallory Harper. A young man like that, with money and looks, and he’s still single? In my day that wouldn’t be done.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’d have snapped him up, you rotten golddigger!” Grandpa shouted from the living room.

“Watch your mouth, or I’ll stick that cane where the sun doesn’t shine!” she yelled back.

“Enough,” Mom said wearily. “This is not about you two and who used all the glue for your dentures.”

Ew.

“Thank you, Mom.”

“It’s about Mallory and her terrible life choices.”

Here we go. “It is not a terrible decision to go on one innocent date with Cameron. You told him you’d have him as your son-in-law, for Christ’s sake!”

She turned fiery eyes on me. “If he weren’t your boss. I specifically said those words.”

“Fine. Then I’ll quit, and then I’ll be here even longer, long after Aunt Grace and Grandpa have gone, and you’ll have to live with the knowledge that your grown-up daughter is living with you forever.”

“If you quit, you can live with him,” Mom sniffed. “And there’s no need to be so dramatic.”

“You’re the one being dramatic,” I pointed out. “It’s one date. It’s harmless.”

The kissing wasn’t harmless, but the date was.

That’s right. I’d talked myself off the ledge of going out with him. Mostly.

“What if it doesn’t work out?” She folded her arms across her chest. “Then what happens with your job?”

“It doesn’t affect my job.”

“You should get that in writing.”

“It’s one date, not a marriage proposal.”

“It’s a terrible idea!” Mom’s voice rose a few decibels. “He. Is. Your. Boss!”

“Say it a few more times, dear,” Aunt Grace said, idly pulling the whiskey bottle from the bottle rack. “I don’t think she understands that she’s going on a date with her boss.”

Mom shot her such a dark glare that it took everything I had to stop myself from laughing at her sarcasm.

“Look,” I said, holding my hands out. “I went to his mom’s mixer with him. We had dinner earlier this week—”

“Told you it was a date,” Aunt Grace interrupted, slurping her whiskey.

“Wasn’t a date.” Now it was my turn to glare at her. “And nothing bad has happened. Absolutely nothing.”

“Mallory, I don’t want you to get hurt because you’re making another bad decision. Think about Aaron—”

“We broke up two years ago, and it wasn’t my fault he couldn’t keep his penis out of other women!”

Aunt Grace cackled.

“Don’t use that language in the house, Mallory.”

“Sure,” I said dryly. “I can’t say penis, but you and Dad can have sex on the kitchen table.”

Aunt Grace turned to her. “You had sex on this table?”

Mom waved her hand. “It’s been disinfected,” she said blithely. “Mallory, this is a terrible choice. If you want to be successful, you need to start making better ones.”

“I don’t know, Helen,” Aunt Grace said. “Have you seen that man’s buns? Phwoar. That’s a damn good choice right there.” She even held up her hands and mimed grabbing someone’s butt. “Also, she’s wearing yoga pants. That relationship isn’t making it past a hot dog.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I should never have cracked. When they started asking me where I was going, I never should have caved, not even when Aunt Grace threatened to throw the lemon cheesecake she’d made in the trash.

Nope.

The doorbell rang, and I had to run to the door to get there before Mom. My yoga pants were magical things that had pockets, and my phone and debit card were already in them along with my house key. I was ready to make a break for it like I had before we’d had dinner the other night.

I wasn’t so lucky. The second I opened the door to make my great escape with my hot boss, Mom was right behind me, gripping onto my sweater and stopping me from going any further.

“Cameron! How lovely to see you. Why don’t you come on in before you kids head out?”

Kids? I was twenty-five! He was twenty-eight! What fresh hell was this?

Cameron looked at me, and I hoped that my wide-eyed, panicked look told him to run away. “Actually, Mrs. Harper, we really need to—”

“It’s Helen, and nonsense! You can spare five minutes for a quick chat!”

“How tight are his pants?” Aunt Grace yelled.

“He could be wearing steel ones, and you’d still try to get in them!” Grandpa hollered back.

I smiled sweetly at Mom. “Do you still think he should come in for a chat?”

“I’m going to choke you on your dentures, Eddie!”

“Good, choke on yours and come to Hell with me!”