“Listen, Mom, I hear you, I’m just not sure I can make it tonight—no, not because—Mom, seriously, you have to stop talking to my therapist. Because it’s weird! Well of course I know you love me, that’s not what I’m—” He looked increasingly dispirited as his mother continued to browbeat him into submission.
Finally, Tanner surrendered with a big sigh, looking pained.
“Okay. No, I said okay. It’s fine. Yeah, I’ll be there, I promise.” He paused to pinch the bridge of his nose as his chin dropped to his chest.
“Hmm, yeah. White wine, got it. No, I’ll be there, no worries. Okay, at 7:00. Got it. Thanks. Love you too!” He pushed the end call button, staring balefully at the phone as if it was totally at fault for everything that had just transpired.
Looking up at Lance, he grimaced and briskly rubbed his face, wanting to howl in frustration.
“Stop looking at me like that! You don’t understand! You haven’t met my mother. No one says no to that woman,” he protested and hung his head in defeat.
“If you say so—” Lance said, biting his bottom lip to keep from laughing. “So, what did you promise her?”
“She hosts a family dinner every Sunday, and I usually make up an excuse not to go. But since I bailed on her three weeks in a row, my ass is toast!”
“Sounds like she’s on the war path,” Lance concluded.
Tanner sighed and nodded.
“Alright, so you’re going to your mom’s house for dinner with your family. Why the long face?”
Tanner shrugged and slammed back his coffee. Then he went to the sink and washed his mug, scrubbing industriously while muttering a variety of angry epithets about bossy, interfering family members. Lance just watched and wondered if Tanner really thought ignoring the question would make him drop the issue. Ha! Fat chance of that!
“T,” Lance said, looking at him expectantly.
Tanner set down his coffee mug.
“My mother loves to set me up,” he confessed with an unhappy frown as his shoulders slumped.
“With girls?” Lance asked.
“Of course, with girls!” he growled angrily. “Sorry—I just—”
Lance suddenly realized that this was no small issue for Tanner. He put his cup down and went to him, pressed his chest against his back, and propped his head on his shoulder.
“How can I help? Do you want me to fake an emergency and call you midway through dinner? Do I drive the get-away car? Am I grabbing the stash of emergency funds from my safe so we can make a run south of the border?”
Tanner stopped scowling and turned his head away to hide his growing smile.
“You’re such a dick,” Tanner muttered.
“That explains why you like me. What with your newfound passion for giving head and all,” Lance replied, reminding Tanner what he’d said a few nights ago after an hourof teasing, licking him like a lollipop, until he’d erupted like Vesuvius.
“Fucker,” Tanner grunted with a reluctant smile, no longer able to hide his amusement.
He spun around, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked up at Lance. With his back pressed against the kitchen sink, he grinned mischievously.
“What?” Lance asked, suspicious of this abrupt mood shift and that crafty smile.
“You could come,” Tanner said.
“What?”
“Tonight. You could come to dinner with me.”
“Why in the hell would I do that?” Lance began shaking his head as he held up both hands, looking as if Tanner had suggested jumping off the side of a cliff.
“Because I need you to distract my mother so she won’t ask me a million questions about what I want to do with the rest of my life, or when I plan to start dating again or—” he sighed, and Lance could see the helpless frustration in his expression.
