Hillary
“Hilarious, get your ass up and help us here,” my mom says, barging into the kitchen where I escaped to take a seat.
“C’mon, mom. I have been working all day,” I groan, getting off the stool.
“Yeah, I know and I see that, but we still have a lot to do. Your in-laws are on the way and will be here anytime soon. After dinner, you can sleep till next week if you want,” she argues.
I roll my eyes. “Everything is perfect, mom, stop stressing,” I tell her, patting her shoulder.
“No it’s not, they are like super rich, and we need to make sure they are at least seventy percent as comfortable as they would be in their homes,” my mom insists, fretting.
I stare at her. That’s the same reason she broke her back and her bank trying to make everything perfect for Ben when he had to stay.
