Reckless Hearts (Oak Harbor #2)(33)
I check the clock on the wall. “One hour and twenty-two minutes,” I announce. “That’s how long it’s taken you to bug me about my love life.”
Mom laughs. “Did I really make it so long? I should get a prize.”
I can’t help giggling too. It really is a lost cause trying to get her to back off and mind her own business. Still, I must be feeling the effects of that cough medicine, because I find myself telling her, “I’m . . . sort of seeing someone.”
Mom’s head whips around, and right away, I regret the slip. “It’s only been a couple of dates,” I add quickly. If one dinner and a dip in the creek even count as dates. “It’s nothing serious. Honest.”
“Does ‘nothing serious’ have a name?”
“Will,” I answer, trying to ignore the curl in my stomach at the thought of him. “Will Montgomery.”
A smile plays on the edge of Mom’s lips. “And does this Will have a job at all?”
I flush. “What are we, in an Austen novel? Next thing you’ll be asking about his income and ‘prospects.’ ”
“That depends if he has any.” Mom smiles. “Oh hush, I’ll mind my own business. But I thought you were looking peppier than usual.”
“It’s called under-eye concealer,” I reply, embarrassed. “Like I said, it’s early.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t know,” Mom replies. “I knew right from my first date with your father he would be the one for me.” She gets a faraway smile, telling me about their date for what must be the hundredth time. I feel a pang, watching her, and I wonder if she’s trying to convince herself, or if she still really believes it—that his betrayal was a blip in the grand love story of their lives. She may have moved on, but every time she brings up their happiness, I can’t help remembering—and it’s only going to get worse, once we’re all at dinner together.
They finish up her hair, and she goes to change out of her robe. My phone buzzes with a text; it’s Will.
How’s the bear?
SAVE ME, I text back, about to write more when Mom appears again.
“Is that him?” She tries to look over my shoulder at my phone. “It is, I can tell from that goofy smile. What’s he doing?”
“Nothing!” I shove my phone back in my bag. “And it wasn’t him,” I lie, “it was . . . a client. And I don’t have a goofy smile.”
“Of course you don’t, sweetheart.” Mom pats my arm like she doesn’t believe me. “I just talked to your father, he’s on his way. We’ve got some more time before our reservation,” she adds. “How about we walk around and do a little shopping? There are some cute stores here.”
I nod, glad to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. “Whatever you want, Mom. It’s your day.”
We browse around town for a while, then go meet my dad at the restaurant at seven. It’s a rustic, relaxed place with gorgeous views overlooking the water. “Here are my girls,” he greets us, beaming. “Don’t you both look pretty tonight?”
“Hi, Dad.” I accept his hug. “This place looks great, is it new?”
“They just opened,” Dad tells us, as we’re led to our table. “The owner has another one in the city. Your mom and I have eaten there before, and it’s always delicious.”
“Sounds great!” I take my seat, determined to stay upbeat. Just because I’m not comfortable doesn’t mean I’m going to sulk like a teenager for the rest of the night. Let my parents play pretend all they like, I’m going to smile and nod—and drink.
I catch the waiter’s eye. “A bottle of wine, for the table?” I suggest, and Mom happily agrees.
“Mmm, everything looks wonderful,” she says, looking at the menu. She reaches across and squeezes Dad’s hand. “Thank you for picking this place.”
“I wanted something special for my girls.” He smiles back at her. “It’s not every day we get to celebrate twenty-five wonderful years together.”
The waiter returns with the wine and pours me a glass. “Oh no, keep going,” I tell him when he pauses. “All the way to the top.”
I take a gulp, reminding myself again: cheery and upbeat, for Mom’s sake at least. “How are things with work?” I ask, steering for safe, neutral ground. He’s been in insurance for thirty years now, and always has funny stories about the things people try to claim.
Dad gives a wry smile. “The usual. We’ve got a new investigator in, and she’s turning up dodgy claims all over the shop. One guy filed for ten thousand dollars, said his rare comic book collection had been stolen; it turns out, his girlfriend burned the whole lot up in smoke after he broke things off!”
I laugh. “That’ll teach him.”
“Luckily for us, he only had them covered for theft, not acts of revenge,” Dad adds, smiling. “I didn’t realize those things could be so valuable.”
“Oh yeah, I knew a guy in college, he kept them all in the original wrappers, wouldn’t even take them out to read.” I shake my head at the memory. “I took one off the shelf to look once, and he practically had a fit.”
“Why don’t you tell your father about your new man?” Mom interrupts. “Dee’s seeing someone,” she tells him meaningfully.