Shopping for a Billionaire 3 (17 page)

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Authors: Julia Kent

Tags: #BBW Romance, #Contemporary, #Contemporary Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Fiction, #General, #Genre Fiction, #Humorous, #Literature & Fiction, #New Adult, #New Adult & College, #Romance, #Romantic Comedy

BOOK: Shopping for a Billionaire 3

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M
om looks at Amanda’s shoes and immediately whips around to look at Chuckles, who is staring into the mirror on the back of my bedroom door and
hissing at
that strange cat.

“You wore shoes with long laces around
him
?” Mom giggles and shakes her head slowly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are
you
sorry?” I ask.

“That’s my fault. Um…” Her brow furrows. “Actually, it’s your father’s fault. He wore that gladiator outfit that one time we got into this little role play where I pretended to be tied up for the Kraken to come and take me, and Chuckles panicked. He peed all over Jason’s feet and I haven’t been able to wear a pair of
sandals with ankle laces
ever since.”

Amy
freezes
in the doorway.

“
But Marie, the Kraken…why would you use that in a bedroom role play?” Amanda’s muted voice calls back. She’s buried in my closet. I see her ass poking out and I want to kick it.

“Don’t provoke her! I don’t want to hear!” Amy dashes out the door. I hear the apartment door slam. My fingers are in my ears as I say “
tra-la-la-la-la”
as loudly as I can to drown out whatever depravity-laden story Mom is oversharing.

A
manda’s distinctly paling face tells me I need to keep up my verbal assault.
Even Chuckles looks a shade or two lighter than usual.

“Shannon! Shannon! You can pull your fingers out of your ears,” she says with exasperation, as if I am the transgressor.

Amanda mouths
Be
c
areful
.

I pull my fingers out and Mom says, “You’re coming to my yoga class on Friday.” It’s
Tue
sday, so I have t
hree
days to agree and then come up with a really lame excuse to ba
ck
out.
Agnes might rough me up in the alley if I show my face without Declan’s ass.

“Okay,” I say.

“And no excuses! Chuckles did not have a leg amputated, like you said last month to get out of coming.”

Damn. Chuckles examines his front paw with a distinct expression of relief.
Great. I’m going to come home to find he’s used my jelly bean stash as a litter box, aren’t I?

“Sorry, bud,” I whisper to him from across the room. “I’ll bring home some catnip. Please don’t eat the computer cords again.”

A
manda and I share one of those looks where a series of weird, covert gestures and eyebrow movements somehow translates into facial semaphore code.
Does Mom know about me and Declan
and the Twitter mess
?
i
s my basic question.

Seventy-two twitc
he
s and grimaces later, the answer is
no
.

Whew.

“
Marie, we’re very late for work,” Amanda says. “How about I make us a coffee while Shannon showers?”

Mom’s eyes narrow to black-smudged triangles. Whenever any of her daughters are too nice to her, she’s suspicious, and Amanda’s her fourth kid in her mind.

“Is Declan in the bedroom?” she says with glee. “Is that why you’re acting so weird?”

I wish.

“
If he were?” Amanda says. Ouch. Shoot me through the heart, but I see her point. Mom starts to back out slowly. It’s not technically a lie, right?

Then she stops and looks at Amanda, hard. “If he’s here, why are
you
in
the bedroom
?”

Amanda slowly, exquisitely, arches one eyebrow
and stares Mom down
.
It’s like Laura Prepon in
That ’70s Show
and
Orange is the New Black
with a heaping dose of Angelina Jolie thrown in.

Mom’s look of horror is beyond perfect. “I, um, uh, I have to go,” she says quickly. We hear the apartment door slam and Chuckles gives Amanda an admiring look and lifts his front paw toward her like a high-five.

“I can’t believe you implied we’re having a threesome,” I squeak out.
But hot damn, it worked! I need to file that little strategy away next time Mom comes over and wants me to get a Brazilian or those pedicures where the fish eat all the dead skin.

“I can’t believe some role play kink between her and your dad makes your cat piss all over my shoes.”

“Touch
é
.”

Tear
s
threaten to push through and I can’t quite catch my breath. What if it’s over before we really got started? So much is there with Declan, and I—

Amanda’s steady hand presses into my shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, the early reports are coming in from the credit unions and there is clear discrimination going on in at least two branches. The LGBT mortgage program will help weed that out. You might want a divorce, but—”

I stick my tongue out at her.

“—but we made a difference.”

That
makes me cry, finally. “Great. Can’t even wallow in self-pity,” I sniff. “I may have screwed up my one chance at happiness with a great guy, but we also made a difference and helped people.”

“Don’t look so glum.”

I sigh. “I know. It’s just…I don’t regret doing the shop, but at the same time, let me feel what I feel. Okay? I can feel two conflicting emotions at the same time. It’s called being human.”

A few beats of silence stretch between us. And a handful of sniffles.

“
G
et your butt in the shower and let’s go see Declan and figure this all out.
The longer you cower in the bed, the stupider this gets. Don’t let a Tweet dictate your life,
”
she counsels.

“
When did you become a philosopher?” I stalk off to the bathroom without waiting to hear her answer.

“When your cat turned my foot into a litter box.” She taps Chuckles’ extended paw and I swear he
separates his little toes and gives a “peace out” sign
.

“
What if he…what if I…oh, God.” My hands shake and my heart feels like it wants to run away and bury its head in a giant vat of double-chocolate brownie ice cream.

Amanda’s sympathetic face comes into view through the hair curtain I have covering me. “The only way to know what Declan is thinking or feeling is to go see him.”

“What if I’ve blown it?”

“You don’t know that you did.”

“Easter was so special.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” she declares. “No guy shows up for a holiday with the family and then ditches a woman because of a stupid tweet.”

“Really?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. That sounded like a supportive thing to say.”

“Too much honesty is not a good thing.”

“No kidding.” She sighs. “Why do you think I’m still single?”

I blink back my tears. “But not enough honesty gets you tweets from a woman who looks like something out of Madame Tussa
u
d’s wax museum.”

My phone buzzes.

We both freeze.

It’s Declan.

*
* *

Continued in
Shopping for a Billionaire
4
, the end of the Shopping for a Billionaire series
…

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