“Love you, Momma.”
Her eyes crinkled up. “Love you, baby.”
They ate in silence, for the first few minutes at least, which was fine by David, because his mom had an alarming habit of interrogating him about his social life. Or lack thereof, if one were to believe Jeri.
Thank god Jeri and his mom had never actually met. He wasn’t sure he could handle them teaming up on him.
“These are good,” David said, popping another brussels sprout into his mouth.
“They’re made with love,” Kathleen said, which was undoubtedly true—Kathleen made everything with love—but also, in the Curtis family,lovewas code forbutter.
Lots and lots of butter.
“Hey, whatever happened to what’s-her-name? The vegan?”
David scoffed but smiled. “Ayesha?”
She’d been his best friend in Chicago. They’d worked together at JPMorgan, and they’d stayed close after his escape. David had even gone to her wedding: a destination event in Napa, where he’d taken his love of wine to the next level.
That trip, riding a charter bus from Oak Knoll all the way up to Calistoga and back, wandering the vineyards and tasting the grapes fresh from the vine, he’d gone fromlovingwine tolivingit. Before, wine had been a thing he served at work. A drink he shared to unwind with friends.
After, he knew what it really was: Magic in a bottle. The kiss of the earth itself.
At the airport heading home, he’d started looking up how to get his sommelier certifications.
Last time they’d talked, Ayesha was still at JPMorgan, and she and her wife, Janine, had two babies and a pit bull and a quaint house in Oak Park. But ever since he’d moved back to KC, they’d texted less and less.
David cleared his throat. “Last I heard she was doing okay.”
“Last you heard?” David’s mom was a master of the raised eyebrow.
“You know how things get. We’re both busy.”
Still, he should probably send her a hello, at least. Hadn’t one of her boys had a birthday recently?
“And when’s the last time you talked to your dad?”
Last week? No, two weeks ago. David wracked his brain for details of their last conversation.
“It’s been a little while,” David admitted. “I’ll call him. Why?”
“Just wondering,” she said airily, polishing off her mimosa.
Kathleen and Christopher Curtis didn’t talk much since their divorce, but they’d remained friendly enough to backchannel with each other when they felt their only son wasn’t paying enough attention to them.
“Well, you know I’ve been busy,” David finally said, reaching for his mom’s flute to make her another mimosa.
“I know. I just wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard. You only live once.”
David shrugged. He’d lived plenty when he was young and foolish, and he’d live plenty more once he passed his test. The world was just waiting to open up to him.
“Don’t worry about me, Momma. I’m good.”
Despite what his mom—and Jeri—thought, he wasn’t lonely. He had hookups, like Farzan. And he’d even made a friend date with Kyra. What more could they ask?
So instead he said, “How’s work?”
If there was one surefire way to get his mother off his back, it was asking her about her job. Despite her being well past retirement age, he was pretty sure his mom would never actually retire. She loved teaching high school French way too much to give it up.
