“Then what are you worried about?” “I’m not worried about anything,” I said, annoyed that she was ruining my good mood. I grabbed the whisk attachment from a drawer and shut it angrily with my hip. “Then I don’t understand why you’re not even giving him a chance.” Inhaling and exhaling, I felt my nostrils flare as I turned to face her. Maybe the stark truth would shut her up. “If he wanted a chance with me, Mom, I’d give it to him. He doesn’t.”
