Reluctantly Yours(23)

“What is it that couldn’t wait, Mother?” Barrett asks, detaching his eyes from mine and putting his focus on JoAnna.

“I wanted to talk to both of you.” She laces her fingers together in her lap before lifting her gaze. Her eyes move between me and Barrett, before settling back on me. “I received a phone call this morning.”

Oh, God. She knows.

“JoAnna, I’m so sorry,” I say, trying to fight back tears. “I know it’s not okay, but I can explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain,” she says simply. “I know everything.”

That’s it? She doesn’t even want to hear what I have to say?

“I won’t say I’m not surprised, but these things happen.” She shrugs, then her lips drop into a thin line. “However, I did not like hearing about this from Eileen. She’s already been impossible to live with since she took over the ladies’ tennis club chair position so this only made her ego even bigger.”

I have so many questions. How would JoAnna’s friend, Eileen Minton, know anything about this? It was supposed to be between me and Barrett.

Barrett and I exchange a glance. If he’s as confused as I am, he doesn’t show it.

“What are you talking about, Mother? What does Eileen have to do with anything?”

“She was the one to tell me that you two are dating.”

“What?!” I exclaim, but Barrett remains stoic, unphased. I give him my best wide-eyed, what the hell is going on, you should say something to fix this look, but he turns his attention back to JoAnna without acknowledging my plea.

“Oh, yes. She was all too happy to deliver that news. I suspect she’s still sore from you not taking a liking to Kristy when we tried to set you up. This,” she motions between Barrett and I, “is obviously the reason you’ve been so resistant to my efforts to find you dates.”

Barrett sighs. “How did Eileen find out?”

“Marjorie Green’s stylist, Dolce, was at Gallagher’s Saturday night when you were having dinner with Fred Hinkle and his new girlfriend, Francesca. She’s a handful. Not the most elegant woman Fred could have stepped out with after he and Helen split.” Barrett clears his throat impatiently, something I would never do to one of my parents, but only receives a stern gaze from JoAnna, “That’s another story.” She waves it off with her hand, “Dolce told Marjorie who told Melinda who told Eileen who told me.” JoAnna scoffs. “I leave town for the weekend and return to hear through the Upper East Side’s gossip chain that you two are dating?”

I’m speechless. This is not what I envisioned happening. I’ve been so worried that JoAnna would find out about the party that I didn’t even take a moment to think that our very public date would get back to her. That never crossed my mind. I turn to find Barrett watching me and I swear the corner of his mouth twitches. Son of a—

“Is it true?” she asks.

She looks at me, but I’m unable to form words before Barrett opens his mouth.

“Yes, Mother.” Barrett nods, confirming my worst nightmare.

“And you two acting like the other one barely exists, that was an effort to conceal your relationship?”

“I—” I have yet to find the words to respond. My brain is a chaotic mess of tangled thoughts. Barrett, on the other hand, has all the words.

“Our relationship is our business.”

Our relationship? My mind is still swirling. I’m listening to the conversation between Barrett and JoAnna, but unable to clear my mind enough to contribute anything helpful. If we tell her we’re not really together, she’ll want to know why we were on a date. We can’t tell her that Barrett demanded that I attend his business dinner date in exchange for his silence about the party. But, maybe I could say I was filling in. That we are not together but I was doing Barrett a favor. He was alone and desperate for a date. I like the sound of that. He didn’t want to be the third wheel, so he asked me to go. That could work.

“Chloe and I are together,” Barrett confirms solemnly. He looks like he’s identifying a dead body. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get back to work.”

I’m too stunned to speak. Barrett and JoAnna haven’t even noticed. Barrett turns to leave.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” JoAnna asks.

“What?” Barrett asks, his tone sharp.

“Now that the cat is out of the bag, you can kiss Chloe goodbye.” She smiles. “I don’t mind.”

“We’re not into public displays of affection,” he says. This conversation is surreal. No one’s even noticed that I’ve yet to say anything.

“That’s not what Marjorie’s stylist said.” JoAnna lifts her brows.

I think about all the affection I gave Barrett Saturday night based on following Frankie’s lead. The firmness of his thigh under my palm, the way his bicep flexed when I squeezed his arm, and how my hand smelled like his body wash after I rubbed the back of his neck.

“Besides, this isn’t public. It’s always proper form to kiss your special someone when you leave the room.” JoAnna’s voice is stern.

I’m standing very still, my hands clasped in front of my body. My legs are shaky, I’m barely holding it together here. I missed that last part. What’s proper form?