“Mrs. Keating, so good to see you,” Goldie says, slipping around Fletcher, who’s still glaring at Kyle.
“So we’ll talk more at dinner?” Kyle says to me.
“It seems so. Enjoy the bar. It’s free. Thank you for coming and supporting the Pounders.”
He winks.
I momentarily wish for morning sickness to come back.
There’s nothing innately wrong with him, aside from the fact that my mother invited him here to attempt to make him my date.
And he’s not Holt, who just said something to Miranda to make her snort-laugh so loudly that all of us are looking at her now.
“Oh shit, I blew snot on your coat,” she says to Holt.
“Not the first woman to do that to me today,” he replies, which makes me choke on a laugh too.
Jessica did get him spectacularly well this morning.
“Oh, are you dating someone, my dear?” Mom says to him.
“I have a—” He freezes, his gaze darting swiftly from me to Fletcher to Mom to Miranda to Dad to me and back to Fletcher.
He can’t say a dog who hates him.
He can’t say a dog who hates men.
He probably shouldn’t say dog at all.
“Friend with a kid with a cold,” Goldie interjects smoothly. “He was telling us all about it on the way over. Though why we had to drive a man with two good feet is such a great question, isn’t it?”
Thank the wine gods for Goldie.
“You’re out of the cast!” Mom shrieks. She tackles Holtwith a mom hug. “Oh, what a wonderful day! Roland. Did you see this? Holt’s out of his cast.”
“It was a boot, Deedee,” Miranda murmurs.
“Yes, great day for the Pounders,” Dad says before going back to talking to Silas.
Goldie slips to my side and hugs me. “Thank youso muchfor talking your dad out of inviting mine again this year,” she whispers.
“Of course,” I whisper back.
I don’t know all of the details, but I know Dad likes Goldie’s dad because he created a rugby league for kids so Silas would have a league to train in, but Goldie and Silas aren’t big fans of the man themselves. Our families weren’t really tight growing up because it was before Dad cared to buy a rugby team.
And now I wonder if they weren’t tight for other reasons, despite having kids in the same schools at roughly the same times.
Honestly, watching Goldie and Silas both thrive—and watching Holt thrive as well—without their parents makes me hope mine can see how happy Holt makes me, and that they’ll be supportive.
Guess we’ll see tomorrow.
Also, I want a glass of wine.
I very much want a glass of wine.
“You look beautiful tonight,” she adds as she pulls back. “Look at you showing off your baby bump.”
I run a hand over the smooth fabric of my dress that is, indeed, showing off the small but unmistakable baby bump that is Tater Tot. “Thank you. You look like a million bucks.”
