POV: LAYLA
“Is that what you’re wearing for dinner?” asks mom, inspecting my ripped jeans and a big green sweater.
The sweater has the face of a smiling cow with big googly eyes and the word “Got Milk?” on it. There are some evil looking ducks and some chickens too.
“What? It’s adorable!” I say defensively.
Okay, it’s ugly…but she doesn’t need to know what I really think of it.
Her eyes bulge. “No. I want you to get changed now, Layla.”
“Ugh, mom!” I stomp to my closet. I’m twenty-two, but my mom still treats me like a little kid. It’s sad, really.
“Nope! Not another ugly sweater,” says mom when my hand lands on a grey hoodie that used to be my brother’s.
“Here, wear this,” she says, taking matters into her own hands. She hands me a light pink dress that I wore just once before.
Reluctantly I take it and she leaves my room. Gah! I can’t win.
I moved out of the house to live among humans a year ago. It’s about half an hour away from the pack territory, but almost every weekend they would guilt-trip me into coming back to have family dinner with them.
Maybe I should have moved further.
I do love my family, but their meddling in my life is getting out of hand.
Right after I’m done changing, she barges back into my bedroom.
God, what I put up with…
“Now, sit down, Layla.” She pulls out a chair facing the vanity for me. I try not to roll my eyes as I take my seat.
“You’re a beautiful girl, sweetie. Why do you have to hide it like that?”
We both stare at our reflections in the mirror. I don’t look much like my mom. My mom is a human and my dad is a werewolf.
“You’re lucky to have the beautiful were-gene,” she says.
I want to tell her that I don’t have a werewolf gene. I’m a human…just like her. The only difference is she has a mate who loves her. I don’t.
Her light hazel eyes, the only feature that I inherited from my mom, stare back at me, but I don’t say a word.
She scrunches my wild, brown, curly hair and shakes her head. Then she works on piling it up into a loose bun on top of my head. She only lets me go after she’s satisfied with my appearance.
***
“Grandma, your seat is right there.” I try to “gently” push my grandma to sit at her usual chair.
Now she’s sitting in my chair, which means I have to sit in the only available chair next to the guy they’re setting me up with, Kofi—the reason why I’d been working extra hard to look ugly.
She refuses to budge. “Ouch, my hip. I don’t think I can get up now. I swear, I might need a new hip soon. Now, what was that, Layla dear?”
I’m trying not to murder my 87-year-old grandma—my mom’s mom. She’s been living with us since my grandpa died ten years ago.
She’s also a crafty old lady who is actually as fit as a fiddle but shamelessly pretends to suffer from every ailment known to man to get her way.
Sitting at the dinner table tonight is my dad, my mom, my grandma, my younger sister, Maya and her newly found mate Abraham, my older brother Kaleb, his mate Carmen, and Kofi.
I sigh and admit defeat.
I walk to the other side of the table and sit next to Kofi. Kofi is my older brother’s friend who lost his mate ten years ago.
He’s almost a permanent fixture in this house every weekend because they think that he’s perfect for me.
“You look beautiful tonight, Layla,” says Carmen. “Don’t you think she looks beautiful, Kofi?”
“She always looks beautiful,” replies Kofi with a big smile.
I suppress a groan. Oh God help me.