“More pushing, Mama!” Liam yells, and I realize his swing’s barely moving.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” I say, giving him another push before turning back to my mother. “I have a date tomorrow, actually.”
“Really?”
“Uh huh.” I didn’t plan to tell my mother about Austin, and I’ll probably regret it. But right now, the look on her face is worth it.
“Who is he? How did you meet?”
“He’s one of Sophie Kaminsky’s friends. You remember Sophie, from high school? I ran into her when Claire was in the hospital, and?—”
But my mother isn’t interested in Sophie. “What’s his name? What does he do?”
“His name is Austin. He’s a plastic surgeon.”
There’s a beat of silence as my mother absorbs this. It’s almost like she’s disappointed that I managed to find a date without her help.
“Is it your first date?”
“Yep.” The hockey game really doesn’t count.
“You’ll be careful, won’t you?”
“Always. And like I said, Austin’s friends with Sophie.” He’s also friends with Luke, but there’s no point mentioning that to my mom.
“Mama, I want to get down,” Liam calls.
“Good timing, buddy,” I say as I catch his swing. “It’s time to go get your sister from school.”
My mother saves the rest of her questions about Austin for the following afternoon, when I drop the kids off for their sleepover. After I’ve kissed Claire and Liam goodbye, Mom follows me out to my car and asks for Austin’s full name and phone number.
“Just in case anything goes wrong,” she insists.
“Nothing will go wrong,” I insist. “He’s friends with Sophie, remember?”
There’s no way I’m giving my mother Austin’s phone number; I wouldn’t put it past her to call and invite him to a family dinner or something. I don’t regret moving home, but there are times when I wish my mother wasn’t so into my business.
My mother purses her lips. “Where are you going?”
“Mickey’s. It’s a new gastropub on Colborne.”
“I’ve heard it’s busy. I hope Austin made a reservation.”
“Well, if he didn’t, we’ll figure out something else.”
Mom nods. I can tell she’s preparing to ask another question, so I pre-empt her. “Thanks again for taking the kids tonight, Mom. Love you.” I give her a quick hug and move to my car door, and she reluctantly heads back into the house.
But now that I don’t have my kids to distract me, I’m free to wonder what I was thinking when I agreed to this dinner. And to wonder what Austin was thinking. He seems like the type who would go for a girl like Olivia or Sloane, not a thirty-one-year-old mother of two who can’t zip up her favorite jeans.
I shower and blow-dry my hair, then shimmy into a clingy purple sweater and my third favorite pair of jeans (although maybe my new favorite, because they fit comfortably). Austin picks me up promptly at seven, in a sleek redBMW with buttery leather seats. It’s actually a lot like Troy’s car, but I resolve not to hold that against Austin.
The restaurant is buzzing, and the bar at the front is swarmed with young people. The girls all seem to be wearing skimpy tops that showcase lean arms and toned midriffs. An hour ago, I’d managed to convince myself my purple sweater was sexy because it shows a hint of cleavage, but now it seems positively demure.
Austin guides me through the crowd at the bar to the dining area, where the blonde hostess greets him warmly. It turns out he does have a reservation, but from the way the hostess is looking at him, I bet she’d have found him a table regardless. Austin takes a step closer to me and takes my hand, an unspoken message to the hostess that he’s not interested. She swallows her disappointment and pastes a smile on her face as she leads us to a table.
“Is this okay?” Austin asks after we’re seated. “It’s not the fanciest restaurant, but the food’s delicious.”
“It’s great. I don’t own the right clothes for anything fancier.”
