Better (Too Good series) by S. Walden

too,” he said.
    “No, it’s not.”
    “It is, Cadence.”
    She paused and looked him in the face. “This has never been my house. This is your house with your sink and your bed and your towels and your plates and your glasses and your closets and—”
    “Stop.”
    “It’s true! I don’t know where I belong! I don’t know where my stuff’s supposed to go!”
    “Anywhere .”
    “Don’t do that . You know you don’t mean it.”
    “I do. I mean it. And I’m sorry for getting pissed about the glasses. I am.”
    Cadence shrugged. She sat silent for a moment, battling what she knew she needed to do. He was right about the glasses. She knew it. But she was pissed off and didn’t want to concede.
    “I’m sorry I leave glasses lying around!” she snapped.
    “Wow.”
    “What?” she demanded.
    “That was the worst-sounding apology ever,” he said.
    “You’re right. I’m not sorry. Not yet anyway.” She threw another bottle under the sink.
    “You don’t have to apologize,” Mark replied. He grabbed her hands. “Stop. Just stop, please. And listen to me. You’re right. I haven’t made room for you here. And I’m sorry for that. You shouldn’t have to use the guest bedroom closet. You’re not a guest. You’re my girlfriend, and you live with me now, and that makes all of this yours.”
    Cadence nodded. “But it still feels like it’s only yours.”
    Mark thought for a moment. “I have an idea.”
    ***
    Cadence checked her bank account balance on her phone.
    “So what do you think?” Mark asked.
    “No more than two hundred, and I really shouldn’t be spending that,” she replied.
    “You’re forgetting I’ve got coupons,” Mark said, holding them up.
    He called all of his female friends and asked if they had Bed Bath and Beyond coupons they were willing to part with. Most said no at first until he explained his situation with Cadence. Then they all felt sorry for her and arranged times for him to pick up the coupons. He ended up with thirty.
    “You can make 200 dollars go a long way,” he said.
    She grinned and looked at her list. “Kitchen gadgets.”
    “I don’t have enough?” Mark asked, walking beside her as she pushed the cart.
    “You’re missing a few things,” she replied.
    He smirked but said nothing. The girl didn’t even cook. What would she know about kitchen gadgets?
    Cadence reached for a silicone brush. “I thought we needed a new one of these.”
    He thought for a moment. The only brush he owned was wooden, stained, and disgusting. She was right. They needed a new one.
    “Perfect,” he said.
    “And this.” Cadence pointed to a spin bowl meant for drying lettuce.
    Mark hid his grin. “You’re right. Much eas ier than manually drying it.”
    She placed it in the cart and moved on.
    “I want new bedding,” she said.
    “Well, there’s your 200 bucks right there,” he replied.
    “I’m okay with that if you are.”
    “It’s your money.”
    “Yeah, and it’s your bed, too,” she said. “I want to get something we both like. It’s our bed.”
    “So you want my input?”
    “For this, yes.”
    Cadence froze when she rounded the corner of the bedding section.
    Her mother. Just yards away debating between two comforters.
    The ache was instantaneous. She felt it tingle in her fingertips and nose. Her instinct was to run, throw herself on her mother, and crush her in a hug. As though Mrs. Miller could sense this, she turned around slowly, locked eyes with her daughter, and stared.
    “Mommy,” Cadence mouthed. She felt the brimming tears, hovering, longing to spill forth. “Please,” she choked out.
    Her mother dropped t he comforter sets and ran to her daughter. She wrapped her up, holding her harder than she meant to, inhaling the strawberry scent of Cadence’s hair.
    “Mom!” Cadence wailed into her mother’s shirtfront. “Where have you been?!”
    “I’m sorry,” Mrs. Miller whispered, her eyes streaming. “I’m sorry.”
    “Where have you