𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐮𝐲 ➺ 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓎 & 𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃

26. Over and Over Again

I awoke with a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach, a sense that something had changed overnight. As I stumbled into the kitchen, still half-asleep and clad in Brian's button-up shirt and pyjama shorts, the sight of my mum bustling about sent a wave of tension through me.

"There she is!" My mum squealed with an overly cheerful tone that grated on my exhausted nerves. I dragged myself to a chair, my head sinking into my palms. I didn't mean for my response to sound to drained and off-putting, but seriously, could you blame me?

"Here I am," I groaned, my words laced with weariness. But my mum, unphased by my lacklustre reply, beamed at me as she placed breakfast in front of me. I grimaced at the sight of it, trying to hide my displeasure.

"Don't give me that look, Maria Brennan. You used to love this when you were younger," she scolded, shaking her head as she returned to the counter. My eyes fixated on the avocado slop smeared over some granary bread.

No, I used to give it to the dog when you weren't looking.

"Oh, yes. How silly." I mustered up a façade of faux happiness as I brought the unappetising mess to my lips, forcing myself to take a bite. It didn't take long for me to adjust, having spent years as a teenager raining myself not to spit out distasteful food. As I stared ahead, my mum settled down at the opposite side of the table, cradling a cup of tea in her hands.

"So, you managed to get some money for the train then?"

I raised my eyebrows, picking at the bread. "Kinda." I noticed the stern expression on my mum's face and quickly corrected myself. "Kind of. I borrowed some money from... someone."

She seemed to miss my momentary stutter, much to my relief, and sipped her tea. "Oh? That's nice. Was it Emma?"

"No." I shook my head, nibbling on the piece of bread I'd picked off. "It was someone else. A friend." I stared down at my plate, silently praying for an escape from this conversation.

"It wasn't that boy you mentioned before, was it? You know what boys want at the end of the day, and I'm not going to sit here and watch my little girl get messed around by a Londoner—"

"He's not even from London, technically," I interjected with a sigh. "And he gave me the money because he knew I was struggling. Because someone didn't help me out in the first place, like I thought they would." I jabbed, looking back up at my mum, whose widened eyes betrayed her shock at my mildly confrontational tone.

"You're twenty-two years old. You aren't a child anymore."

"Exactly. So why am I not allowed to have a boyfriend just because my mum said so?" It had only been ten minutes, and we were already locked in an argument. A new record if I do say so myself.

"So he is your boyfriend, then?" My mum nodded slowly, attempting to regain her composure.

"Pretty much," I affirmed. "Where's Dad? I want to talk to him." I stood up abruptly, a mix of frustration and longing fuelling my impulsive action.

"Sit down, he's not even here. He's working," she snapped back.

I clenched my jaw and begrudgingly resumed my seat, crossing my arms like an angry teenager. "I honestly don't see the point of me coming back here if all you're going to do is pick apart my life—a life I have managed to build somewhat decently since leaving here."

"Oh yes, Maria, a life that consists of living in a disgusting university flat and running around with a boy who only wants one thing from you—that's very decent of you."

"You don't even know anything about him, Mum!" I shouted, shocking her immensely. "You don't know what he's done for me! I've made new friends that, hopefully, I'll keep forever, and Brian is not going to mess me around. Brian is not just some boy in London. If you met him, you'd love him. I love him. And you're just going to have to deal with that."