Picking Up the Pieces (Pieces, #2)(109)

“Yes, Dad.” She returned my eye roll with one of her own before putting her phone in her pocket. “It’s nice to see you, Grandma,” she said sincerely as she hugged my mom.

“You too, sweetheart. Adam, why don’t you go out and keep your father company. Eva and I will finish in here.”

As I slid open the glass doors to the deck, I smiled sweetly at my mom and shot Eva a threatening look that let her know she needed to stay off her phone and help with dinner.

“Hey, Adam. Didn’t even know you were here,” my dad said, wrapping his big arms around me and squeezing tightly. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks. It’s good to see you.” I moved to the edge of the deck to take a look into the yard that was currently covered in mounds of dirt. “You’re putting in a pool?” I couldn’t believe my parents had finally decided to get an in-ground pool. I’d asked them for years when I was growing up, but they always said it’d be too much of a pain to keep up with. “What happened to it being too expensive and annoying to maintain? Did it suddenly get cheaper and easier now that I’m thirty-four?”

My dad let out a low laugh and his belly shook, reminding me of Santa in a grilling apron. “No, still expensive as hell. Just have the time for it now that we’re both getting close to retiring. Plus, we know Eva and her friends would love it. And any other grandkids we might be getting in the future.” He winked, elbowing me playfully.

I laughed, hoping that he wouldn’t see how awkward his comment had made me feel. I couldn’t shake the irony that plagued me after his not-so-subtle hint. Since I’d had Eva at such a young age, they were never quick to push me to have more kids. But now, with their son pushing thirty-five, I guess the realization had set in for them that I wasn’t getting any younger. The realization had set in for me too.

Luckily, it wasn’t hard to get my dad to switch subjects. One mention of the Phillies and he’d launched off into a critical analysis that would put any grad student to shame.

We spent the next fifteen minutes talking baseball before my dad asked me to go get some plates to set the table because dinner was nearly ready. I made my way inside to find my mom and Eva putting the side dishes on plates. Opening the cabinet, I removed four plates and set them down on the counter. But my mom quickly took out three more and placed them on top of the others. “What are these for?” I asked.

“We’re having company,” my mom replied simply.

I laughed. “Oookay, I thought we were company.” I gestured between Eva and myself.

“You are, but I invited a few more.”

Before I could call my mom out on her furtiveness, I heard voices coming from the deck. The “company” must have gone around back. I grabbed a few more essentials—napkins, forks, and knives—before heading back toward the door.

I’d just slid open the door and looked to my right toward the table when I saw her.

“You remember the Stantons, right, Adam?” my dad asked.

I felt my eyes widen and for the first time since I was in middle school, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Yes, this time I remember. “Carly,” I said, grinning awkwardly as I fumbled with the utensils and plates while I tried to shake her hand. “Nice to see you again.” My tone was innocent, but my thoughts were anything but.

“Likewise,” Carly replied with the same formality that I had exhibited.

My dad interrupted the staring contest Carly and I had found ourselves in. "I'm just going to take this cake the Stantons brought inside, and let your mom know our guests are here." My eyes briefly followed my dad into the house before refocusing on the people in front of me.

Carly’s mom stretched out a warm hand to me. “Good to see you, Adam. It’s been so long. You’re all grown up now.” I briefly wondered if she might pinch my cheeks like I was ten. She had the same eyes as Carly and though the color of her hair was slightly darker than her daughter’s, there were more similarities than differences between the two. It was like looking at Carly twenty-five years from now. And I liked what I saw.

I quickly pulled myself from my Mrs. Robinson daydream just in time to remember I hadn’t even responded. “Nice to see you again as well, Mrs. Stanton.”

“Please, call me Joanne. You’re clearly not in high school anymore.”

“So when was the last time you two saw each other?” Mr. Stanton asked, gesturing between me and Carly. I realized I’d been so shocked that I hadn’t even bothered to greet him. I recovered quickly with a firm shake of his hand while I thanked him for coming.

Then I remembered that I still needed to answer his question: when was the last time I’d seen Carly? Naked? In November. “Um . . .” I shot a look to Carly to try to gauge her thoughts.

She looked equally as thrown by her father's question as I was, and she stumbled over her words. “At the . . . at the reunion actually. We saw each other then.”

“Just briefly,” I added quickly. “We really didn’t see much of each other." Idiot.

Carly gave me a knowing smile, which I returned—I hoped—inconspicuously.

Finally, the awkwardness subsided as we settled into our chairs on the deck to enjoy our dinner. “It was so nice of you to invite us,” Carly said to my mom with a sweet smile. “The food’s delicious. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in what feels like forever. I’ve been working such long hours lately. Takeout has become my new best friend.”