Rivals Or Lovers
“Yeah. We face time and he’s good. He’s now a blonde, by the way.”
Mom turned, spatula in hand. “Blonde? Like… you mean blonde?”
I snorted. “Yeah, it looks stupidly hot. I hate it.”
Dad chuckled. “Jealous already?”
“Always.”
Mom sat down across from me, finally, her own plate in front of her. She took one bite, chewed slow, then fixed me with that mom-look.
“So,” she started, casual but not really. “What have you been up to lately? Besides therapy and mooning over your boyfriend.”