Page 118 of Spicy Ever After
Beck sends back a string of laughing emojis.
Again, I know he’s not laughing at me.
Beck: Describe a 3.
Me: Clothes hangers and dresser drawers are good in theory…
Another string of laughing emojis.
Me: I PICK UP ONE THING TO PUT AWAY, SEE SOMETHING ELSE THAT I NEED/WANT TO DO ON THE WAY, PUT DOWN THE FIRST THING TO DO THE SECOND THING, AND THE CYCLE REPEATS.
I press send and hope the admission hasn’t just cost me my first ever boyfriend.
Beck: Your brain works faster than most people’s.
A smile splits my face.
Me: THAT IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE DESCRIPTIONS OF ADHD.
Beck: Are you still in the car with your parents?
I gasp and text as fast as I can.
Me: NO! MY DAD MADE A SURPRISE STOP TO SHOW ME A TOWNHOUSE HE’S THINKING OF BUYING FOR ME.
I press send before I can rethink this one.
Me: DOES THAT SOUND BOUGIE?
“Hats? Where’d you go?” Dad calls.
I clamber out of the tub. “I’m in here!”
Before I throw the door open, I check my phone one more time, but Beck hasn’t responded.
Who am I kidding? Of course, it sounds bougie.
It is bougie.
Parents buying their twenty-three-year-old a townhouse? That’s not a thing.
Mom and Dad are waiting for me in the main bedroom. Dad takes one look at me and his face falls.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
My jaw ticks at baby.
Dad shakes his head and throws up his hands. “Sorry—Hats—sweetheart—what’s the matter?”
“It’s too much.” The words come out like a crowbar dragged over concrete. “You shouldn’t have to buy me a townhouse. It’s not normal.”
Mom and Dad glance at each other. Marriage telepathy.
“You mean it wasn’t normal when we bought a condo for Margaret in Baton Rouge when she moved out of the dorms?” Dad asks.
I roll my eyes. “That’s different.”
Mom frowns. “How is that different? She’s our daughter and she needed a safe place to live.”
