The Good Son Carolyn Mills (best english novels to read txt) 📖

time. It’s like you agree out of politeness. Even now. Do you care that I’m breaking up with you? Are you even going to try to talk me out of it?”

“What do you want me to do, Jonathan? Beg? If it’s not working, it’s not working. I mean, I am sorry you want to end things, but I agree things haven’t been great lately.”

Jonathan nodded, then stood up. “So that’s it, then?”

I stood too. “I guess so.”

He carried his glass back to the kitchen and dumped the water into the sink. He paused there for an extra second and I wanted to tiptoe up behind him, to wrap my arms around his thick torso one last time. He turned around and walked past me to the front door. I did go to him, then. He took my head in both hands and kissed me softly on the lips. It was such a sad, gentle kiss that I felt my indifference waver. But before I could say anything or really react, he had let go of me and was reaching for the door.

I watched him walk to his car. He gave me a little wave before climbing in and driving away. I walked back through my house, wondering how disappointed Mom would be when she found out I’d been dumped. I opened the back door to let Champ in. He had given up barking and was lying in the sun. As soon as he saw me, he leaped up and rushed over. He sniffed my hand which was hanging at my side and stared up at me with absolute understanding.

I wasn’t really sad. Just sort of let down. Like after you see a movie that didn’t quite live up to your expectations. Champ followed me inside and lay down at my feet, while I sat in the armchair and finished my water, the golden child no more.

CHAPTER NINE

•

WHEN I CRAWL BACK INTO my bed after my stupid stint on the sidewalk where I likely made myself even sicker standing out in the cold staring at the moon, I still can’t sleep. It seems impossible that just two nights ago I thought Jason was going to propose. And to be honest, following our dinner at The Crow’s Nest, the thought did cross my mind that if Mom found out about Ricky and Dee Dee, then found out that Jason and I were getting engaged, I would slip right back into the better offspring slot. But after the news about the Amy Nessor case, not to mention Mom’s heart attack, such petty thoughts have all but been erased. I am more concerned with survival — not just for Mom, for all of us.

In the past, Mom has always been quick to forgive Ricky. After his marriage to Lauren ended — which definitely upset Mom — it didn’t take her long to warm to Erika, and soon it was as if Ricky had never done any wrong. She didn’t even fault him when he chose to marry Erika at a private beach ceremony in Mexico — no family, just the two of them.

“Isn’t this nice?” she asked me, after they’d come back and we were driving to Toronto to see the pictures. “Erika said she made a slideshow.”

When we got to their house, Mom cozied up on the couch with Erika and her laptop while I stood off to the side, faking half-hearted interest. Ricky was tanned and smug. He’d seen the pictures enough times, he said, so he didn’t need to look at them again.

Erika was a good-looking woman; I had to give my brother that. And she seemed genuinely nice, not at all stuck-up or full of herself. I liked Erika, but I still felt bad for Lauren because I liked her, too. I could see why my brother had fallen for Erika, though. Not only was she gorgeous, she was smart, friendly, and apparently a kick-ass volleyball player. I didn’t want to like her, out of loyalty to Lauren, but just as she instantly had my mom under her spell, I couldn’t seem to fight her pull either. In a sense, I guess I was pretty quick to forgive my brother, too.

“If you ever decide to tie the knot,” Ricky said to me while Mom was oohing and aahing over the photos, “I totally recommend a destination wedding. Take out all the people and other crap and getting married’s not so bad!”

Judging by my failed romance with Jonathan, and my barren dating history both before and after, I didn’t think it likely that I would ever get married, destination wedding or otherwise.

“You’re giving out marriage advice now?” I asked.

Mom looked up at me. “When Zoe gets married, she’d better do it where I can see it! Pictures are all fine and good, but I’d rather be there for the real thing.”

I took her comment to mean she wouldn’t really believe it had happened unless she personally witnessed it. Apparently, the idea of me getting married must have seemed rather fantastical to her, too.

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll make sure you have a front-row seat,” I assured her.

My brother raised his eyebrows. “Ah, is there something we should know? Or rather someone we should know about?”

Everyone was looking at me now. “No,” I said quickly. “Unless there’s someone I don’t know about yet.”

Ricky laughed loudly and slapped me on the shoulder. “You need to get out of Dunford,” he said. “Who are you ever going to meet there?”

Indeed.

“WHY DO YOU HAVE TO work Christmas Day?” Mom asked, when she found out I wouldn’t be able to join her for our traditional turkey dinner. “You worked on Thanksgiving, too! Someone else should take a turn. It’s not fair that you get stuck working all the holidays.”

“I volunteered,” I said. “Other people have kids and stuff. It doesn’t make any difference to me, so I might as well help them out.”

“You have a mother!” she admonished. “You have family too, you know.”

“I get paid time