Ragged✔|18+

TWELVE

CLYDE

This is not what I signed up for when I agreed to lunch with my future stepmom.

I stand uncomfortably as Brooke proudly parades me to her friends from work we ran into a few minutes ago.

"He's a real computer genius," Brooke's saying to one of them. "You should see him with his laptop. He even fixed the lagging problem I had with my Mac."

A chorus of "oohs" and "ahs" comes from the group of ladies and I give them a hesitant smile.

"He must be really smart," one brunette says to Brooke. "I think he's in the same class with my Henry. You go to Northridge, right?"

It takes me a moment to realize the question is directed at me.

"Yeah. I go to Northridge."

Another round of approvals rings from the group.

I thought it was going to be stiff and awkward as hell but just like I'm slowly finding out, Brooke's not who I thought she was. We have a lot in common.

For starters, she loves all John Wick movies, which I also love. She hates anything related to wheat not because she's allergic to it like me but because she has a deep hatred for carbs.

And when the time came to ask the million dollar question about what happened to my mom, she totally flipped the script by smiling at me and telling me that she must be proud of me wherever she is.

No one's ever said that to me. Well, maybe my grandmother but that's a given because she's sweet like that.

"I'll see you on Monday." Brooke waves at them as we resume our walk to the car.

"Why?" I ask once we're inside the car.

"Why what?"

"Why are you bothering with all of this?"

She throws me a quizzical look. "All of what?"

"Caring about any of us. You know you don't need to do any of these bonding family stuff."

"I want to. I don't think it's fair that I marry the man I love without getting to know his children first."

"You will once you get served with divorce papers." I instantly regret it once those words leave my mouth. More so when her face takes a forlorn look. Brooke's been nothing but nice to me the entire afternoon and my stupid self just can't seem to shut off the asshole button.

"Maybe," she says quietly. "But I'm trying here, Clyde and I think that's all that matters. Living in the present, right? There's no use in dwelling in the past or being anxious about what will happen in the future."

She's making a lot more sense than all the therapists I've seen over the years.

"And besides, even if we do get divorced, I think one of my fondest memories about that marriage would be smiling and thinking how I once had a stepson who was allergic to wheat."

That makes me smile. "That'd crack you up, huh?"

"Very." She laughs, backing out of the parking lot. "So, how's school? Any particular teacher you hate or like? Any. . . girlfriend I should know about?"

I groan.

"What?" She chuckles. "I just want to know. Maybe you can invite her over for dinner or something."

"I don't have a girlfriend."

"But there's a girl, right?" she prods.

No use in lying. "Yeah."