Up to Date (Better Date than Never Book 8) by Susan Hatler Page A

you how much I dread working in an office. Why would you encourage me to do get another job that makes me miserable?”
    She raised her arms, looking frazzled. “They call it work for a reason. It’s not called fun.”
    I dropped onto the couch next to her, my knees bouncing. “But I told you how I wanted to start my own decorating business. I showed you the painting I was working on, and I was excited about it. You made me second-guess myself. So, I took your advice and decorated a very neutral, inoffensive room.”
    “And?” Mary Ann circled her hand toward herself. “Don’t leave us in suspense.”
    I threw my arms up. “Jenna hated it.”
    “Yeah.” Mary Ann nodded. “Neutral sounds pretty vanilla.”
    Shaking my head, I turned back to my mom, my eyes welling. “Why can’t you ever listen to me when I tell you I want to do something? Maybe working artistically isn’t what you think is best, but that’s what makes me happy. I need you to support my dreams. I deserve that.”
    “I’ve never heard you talk to me this way. I . . .” My mom paused, gawking at me in disbelief. Then her forehead wrinkled, her eyes widened, and she gave a terse nod. “You’re right.”
    Mary Ann said, “Come again?” at the same time I said, “Really?”
    She nodded. “I’m always really cautious. I want you both to have the stable life I didn’t give you girls. I never took risks. I never put my foot down with your dad about his drinking.”
    I bit my lip. “Why not?”
    She dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “Scared of what would happen, I guess.”
    “No matter what,” I said, thinking of Greg, “the sun will still rise the next day.”
    Mary Ann scooted over so she was right next to us. “You should talk to Dad if you’re not happy, Mom. You can’t just run from problems.”
    Mom took a deep breath. “You’re right, too. I’ll say something. Finally.”
    “Good.” I made a clucking sound, then turned to Mary Ann. “That leads me to you. I need your help.”
    She wrinkled her nose. “Not more painting, please. I have a date tonight, remember?”
    “Cancel it, please.” My tone was firm. “I’ve been carrying you for years and I really need your help this week. After you’ve helped me, we’re going to sit down and find you another place to live.”
    “What? Why?”
    I smiled at her. “Because I want us to be close, and that’s never going to happen if we continue to live together. We’re too different, and for some reason you feel you can skip out on the rent—”
    “I only missed last month.” Her mouth dropped, and she held up a finger. “And, well, maybe the month before that. Um, wait . . .”
    “Don’t worry, I have a tally and you’re going to pay me back. All of it, squint.” I nearly laughed at the adorable pouty face she was made, but she wouldn’t weasel out of her responsibilities this time. “And forget the guy at the gym, for now, and just go for it with Liam. He sounds like a nice guy. Stop using your one-date rule to protect yourself, and have some fun already. Who cares that it’s a third date? Getting to know a guy can be good.”
    Almond-brown eyes appeared in my head, dancing, and filling a hole in my heart that I hadn’t even known had been there.
    Mary Ann tapped her finger against her cheek. “Liam is awfully cute with that goatee . . .”
    “Is that all?” My mom seemed to hold her breath.
    “No.” I smiled, shaking my head. “Also . . . I love you both. Very much.”
    “Oh.” Mom slipped her arms around us. “I can handle that. And I love you girls, too.”
    Mary Ann squeezed us both, then gazed up at me. “How much work will you force out of me, anyway?”
    Thinking of the little corner she’d painted last week at a snail’s pace, I said. “It’ll seem like forever to you.”
    Then I laughed. My family may not be perfect, but they were mine.

Chapter Eight
    Mary Ann may not have been happy with the tasks I assigned to her, but she came through