If You Only Knew(101)

“So what are your intentions toward my daughter?” Mom asks. “She’s still in love with her ex-husband, you know. Owen. A doctor. He and his wife just had a baby.”

“I’m really not, Mom. But thanks for sharing.”

“I’ve met Owen. I wasn’t impressed.” Leo raises his eyebrows and leans back in his chair.

The gauntlet has been thrown.

“Not impressed with Owen?” Mom squeaks. “He’s wonderful! He’s a doctor. You should see his work. He changes lives.”

“He dumped your daughter.”

“Now, now,” I say, pouring wine into Leo’s glass. “You’ll dump me, too, someday.”

Mom huffs. “Then, honey, why are you wasting your time with this...piano teacher?”

“She has needs,” Leo says. “Physical needs. You understand, right, Lenore?”

She glares. I bite down on a smile.

Dinner is something of a battle, as is usually the case when the angel of death is trying to kill joy. Mom is definitely off-kilter, punishing me for not telling her about Leo, even though she would’ve lectured me about how Owen really was the perfect man and I blew it and the world shall never see his like again, etc., etc.

But it’s nice to have someone on my side, in a way that Rachel never is, because being on my side would mean she wasn’t on Mom’s side, and she wants there to be no sides at all.

“So guess what?” I say when we’ve all had two helpings of Leo’s excellent lasagna. “I’ve been asked to make a wedding gown for the grandniece of the King of Liechtenstein. Or maybe it’s his second-cousin. Anyway, she’s a minor royal! Isn’t that cool? And I think I’ll be asked to come to the wedding. Just in case of a dress emergency, but still. Liechtenstein in the springtime. Should be nice.”

“Too bad it wasn’t Norway,” Mom says. “Now that’s a country I’d love to see.”

“I think you missed the point,” Leo says. “Jenny has been asked to make a gown for a princess.”

“Oh, I know. She’s very talented. It’s just that I’ve always wanted to go to Norway.”

“Then book a flight,” he says pointedly. “Congratulations, Jenny. That’s incredibly impressive. I’m sure your mother is very proud. Are you proud, Lenore?”

“I already said I was.”

“No,” Leo says in a silky voice. “You didn’t.”

“Fine. Jenny, I’m very proud of you. I just think Norway is a beautiful country. I didn’t realize that was a crime.”

Her face is folding in on itself, and there it is, the reluctant pity. I like that Leo is defending me, but...well, it’s my mom. I’m used to her and her little pecks and veiled insults. She feels like the odd man out, it’s clear.

“I’d love to go to Norway, too,” I say, channeling my sister. Besides, this is just Mom’s way of being part of the conversation. She’s not deliberately malicious.

Time for a subject change. “Leo, how’s Evander doing?” I ask. “Evander’s one of Leo’s students, Mom. He’s a real sweetheart.”

Leo gives me a dark look. I kick him under the table. “He’s doing well. Very well. Should be more than ready for the Juilliard audition.”

But Mom has been injured, and she won’t let us forget it. “I’ll let you two get to your night,” she says, standing to clear the table. “I was planning to drop by Rachel’s anyway.”

“I’ll clear, Mom. Thanks for coming.” I hug and kiss her, and Leo says it was nice to meet her, but she gives him her kicked-dog look and slinks away.

I grab my phone for a quick text to Rachel. Mom’s on her way. You’ve been warned. “Don’t be too hard on my mother,” I say to Leo. “She means well.”

“Does she?” he asks. “I kind of hated her.”

“Well, she’s my mother, so get over that.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“You have to.”

“Actually, I don’t.” He folds his arms across his chest and looks at me, lifting an eyebrow.

Ah. Right. The “recreation only” phrase is sure to follow.

“True enough,” I say. “It’s not like you’re going to end up her son-in-law.”

“Correct.”

The word makes my heart hurt. Something flickers through Leo’s eyes. Sadness. Heartache. Something.

Then he smiles, and it’s so unfair, because that smile promises all sorts of things—happy, sunshiny days and long nights filled with ice cream and laughter and sex.

His eyes stay sad.

God, I wish the man would talk to me.

“Give us a cuddle, what do you say?” he says, and pulls me against him.

I’m so stupid with men. Jeesh.

Then he kisses me, softly, and his fingers slide into my hair. “I don’t like anyone picking on you,” he murmurs.

“Except you,” I say, not kissing him back.

“Exactly.” He pulls me against him, and when I fail to hug him, he wraps my arms around his waist. “Come on, now. I made you dinner. I thought about you all afternoon. I defended your honor and fixed your gutter.”