Plus One
I demand, and lie.
"I want to see this plus one at the rehearsal dinner," Mom challenges me, crossing her arms. I flick a brow at Macy, not sure when the rehearsal dinner is.
"It's July twenty-seventh. You have a month," Macy lifelines.
"I will be there!" I point at them with a smirk. But inside I'm anything but happy. Who the hell am I going to take to this thing?
Standing, Mom cups my face and kisses the side of my cheek. "You smell son, take a shower. You remind me of a theater your father took us to when we were younger. Let's just say they weren't showing Pixar films," she informs with an arched brow.