Shannon’s Reviews > Mistakes Were Made > Status Update

She got up. “I’m gonna go home and fight your dad for the last of the Chubby Hubby.” “Text me when you get home.” “My sweet boy.” Her smile was soft, and then it sharpened. “You’re going to feel like shit tomorrow, and you’ll deserve it, but remember I love you.”

She leveled a dangerous look at me. Invisible fire blazed out of her eyes in my direction. In that moment, I knew two things for sure. 1. I was in danger. 2. I was absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt in love with Zoey… Of all the women in the world, it had to be this one… The one who made me go skinny-dipping in the freezing cold. The one who knocked me off a roof with just one glance.

Feeling like I’d been given a sneak peek into the life of an organized person, I gleefully crossed off two more items on my list. No wonder some people liked the whole “being part of a team.” With the right team, the right motivation, shit got done.

I skirted around her, hand skimming her lower back as I reached into a cabinet for another dish. I liked having her here in my space. While I usually enjoyed the quiet of my house, having a bit of her color and chaos was a nice change of pace.

“Ride me like a good girl. Harder.” I followed his cues and let biology take over. I slammed down on him over and over again, each time getting that magnetic nudge deep inside me. “It’s too much,” I whispered. “Finish what you start,” he said, cupping the back of my neck and holding me to him.

“Well, kiddo, he came straight to you after one hell of a rough day. If that doesn’t make you family, I don’t know what does,” she said. “Now get your asses in the car.” “Yes, ma’am,” I whispered meekly. “Can I at least change my⁠—” “No.”

“Don’t think this is getting you out of a serious conversation,” Mom called after me. I was absolutely going to run out of the courtroom and hide from my mother for the foreseeable future.

“Speaking of Gage,” she continued, cupping her face in her hands and batting her eyelashes at me. “We weren’t,” I pointed out. “But we are now,” she said cheerfully. “Unfortunately, we need to table this part of the discussion until later, because you have an interview,” I said… “But I don’t wanna talk to real people. I wanna hang out with the fictional ones in my head.” “Tough shit.”

He put his drink down and leveled me with a look. “Who told you you’re too hard to love?” I laughed. “Well, my parents for starters. When your own parents find it too difficult to love you, you know you’re the problem.” It was strange to think that now there was a reason, a label for what had been wrong all these years. “The more I hear about your parents, the less I like them,” he said.

“Stop wasting your time berating yourself for not doing things you can’t do. You know how many things I can’t do? Do you see me having a self-worth crisis because I can’t change the oil in my car or make a damn pie crust from scratch? No. Because I’m fucking great at a bunch of other things, and that’s where I’m going to spend my time and energy.”