A Groom of One's Own (Appies, #3)

by Emma St. Clair

Mom tries to convince me we should cancel her acupuncture appointment by doing jumping jacks to demonstrate how good she feels. Her version of jumping jacks looks more like some kind of dance you might see in a boy band video, only done very, very poorly. Her arms flail up as her legs come together, completely incorrect form. Normally, this would make me laugh. Today, I shake my head, holding back a sound that I’m afraid might be a sob. “We’re going.” When she clasps her hands together under her chin, pleading, I wag a finger at her. “Nope.” “But I feel good. So good. Need me to do jumping jacks again?” She lifts her arms above her head, already starting in the incorrect position. I finally get her in the car by plying her with promises of sweets. “Cheesecake, cookies, or ice cream. Your choice,” I tell her. And she holds me to this after her appointment, telling me she wants all three. “You said my choice. And I choose all three.” “I meant your choice of one,” I say, pushing open the door for her while waving goodbye to Dr. Wei, her acupuncturist. Needles make me sweat in places I’d rather not mention. I fully blacked out the last time I had immunizations. But acupuncture helps Mom, so I can manage sitting in the same building, trying not to imagine her with tiny needles in her skin. I always wait in the living room of the old-house-turned-acupuncture-clinic, doing something inane like responding to comments on my latest TikTok videos. Today though, I’d rather think about...