Until There Was You(70)

“So, how are you?” she asked.

“Fine. And you?”

“Oh, great. Are you ready for the weekend?”

“Yes.” Unlike Guten Tag, Inferno didn’t participate in the parade. Way too tacky. Instead, they hosted a wine and cheese tasting on the town green, their tent lavishly decorated with grape vines and furnished with small tables. A far cry from the Goose Girl theme Stacia had chosen for this year’s float.

Dante was looking at her with his glittering dark eyes. “So, why are you here, Posey?”

Was it possible that his coolness was to cover some hurt feelings? Granted, he was the one who hadn’t wanted to take things to the next level, but maybe—maybe—he’d expected her to come back. She suddenly felt much worse.

“Well,” she said, “you know how we talked about our, um, relationship? A little while ago?”

“Yes.”

Her toes curled in her work boots. God, these talks were hard! Not that she’d ever given one, but heck. There should be index cards you could just hand out. “Um, well, I think that it’s pretty clear that we want different things—” also, I slept with someone else and am completely infatuated “—and I just wanted to make things official.”

“Official?” Dante’s dark eyebrow lifted.

Posey looked down at the tablecloth. “I mean, we said we’d take a break, and we did, and I think we should just…call it quits. In case there was any gray area here.”

He made a chuffing sound and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Fine with me. Was there anything else?”

Ouch. She swallowed, then shook her head. “Nope. Nothing else.”

“Then you have a good day.” With that, he stood up and walked back to the kitchen and resumed his yelling.

Posey got up from the table, pushed the chair back carefully, and walked to the door, fighting the urge to bolt. Her skin crawled with…something. Shame. Dismay, maybe, because it was suddenly horribly clear that Dante had never wanted anything more from her than what he’d gotten.

Had she really imagined that he’d choose her as a girlfriend, or—yes, yes, she’d imagined it—wife? Had she really thought that a few sex dates would lead to a deeper relationship? Even though she was done with him, even though she’d initiated their breakup, she suddenly felt so…small. Hiding-in-the-bathroom small.

Dante Bellini had never had any kind of intentions toward her. She’d been available. She’d been convenient, she’d asked for nothing. She’d been easy, in more ways than one.

And tell me, said a small voice in the back of her brain—a voice that sounded distressingly like Gretchen’s—how are things with Liam any different?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

STACIA SIGHED, SLAPPED down a giant ladle, spattering grease on the stove, and glared at Posey. “We have to discuss your birthday. It’s only a few weeks away.”

“I have to get changed, Mom. The parade starts in an hour.”

Mother did not seem happy. Father, either, for that matter. Max was hiding in the office and had only grunted as she’d stuck her head in to say hello.

“Dinner, I was thinking. At home, since you and your brother never come by anymore.”

“Ma, I was at your house Tuesday—”

“So us three, the boys, Gretchen. I’ll make your favorite. Brathering mit Bratkartoffeln.”

“Oh, goody.” Posey tried not to wince. Somewhere along the line, Stacia had gotten the idea that Posey loved this dish, which consisted of an entire herring, deep-fried then pickled. It had been her traditional birthday dish for at least fifteen years, and Posey just didn’t have the heart to tell her mother at this late date that she actually hated it.

“I refuse to go to some ridiculous ethnic restaurant,” Stacia announced. The irony of her words didn’t strike her, even as Otto came into the kitchen, dressed in lederhosen and green Bavarian hat. Guten Tag served breakfast on Founders’ Day Weekend—eggs, fish, sausage and potatoes.

“Hey, Otto! You coming on the float today?” Posey asked.

“As luck would have it, my wife had her gallbladder out on Tuesday, so I have to swing home and take care of her,” Otto said, giving her the thumbs-up behind her mother’s back.

“You don’t want to go, do you? Of course you don’t. I don’t know what she was thinking.” Stacia huffed again, an indignant bulldog and queen of the non sequiturs.

“Sorry, Mom. Go where?”

“Inferno! As if I’d set foot in that place! Ever! Kitty McGrew went there last week, though why, I have no idea, we were supposed to be friends, but at any rate— Oh, you know Kitty’s daughter? Ellen? Married. To a banker. That could’ve been you, honey. I honestly don’t know how you manage to stay single. Are you a lesbian? Our son is g*y, we can take it.” Otto grinned, waved to Posey and slipped out the back door.

“Mom, I’m aware that Henry is g*y, as I am his sister. And no, I’m not a lesbian.” A brief and deeply satisfying flashback to just how straight she was made her knees wobble most pleasantly. But Liam hadn’t called yesterday, either, or shown up at the sidewalk stroll. Which was fine. Sort of. “You were ranting about Inferno, Mom. Was there a point?”

“Right. Well, your cousin thought you might like to go there. For your birthday. And I said you’d rather die.”