“And also,” he amended, “I’d like for us to be someplace where our parents are not constantly interrupting us when we’re together, if you know what I mean.”
I wrinkled my nose. “How about I become a very frequent visitor?” I suggested.
And hopefully, by that time, I will have figured out this paternity situation. Hell, who knows. If my dad finds out my mom lied to him, he may kick me out anyway, and I’ll have to show up at Mark’s place with an Uber packed full of fabric and a couple of half-broken Roombas.
“I’ll tell the broker that I’d like to purchase it. Then maybe you and I can go celebrate.”
While Mark was on the phone, I looked around longingly and mentally placed all my sewing stuff in the space—then promptly removed it and chastised myself for using Mark as a walking, talking real estate buyer and not a human being.
“Done,” Mark said, ending the call. “You want a drink?”
* * *
In the carride to an upscale bar nearby, I twisted the hem of my shirt.
“I said we’re celebrating,” Mark said gently, taking my hand.
“Right.” I looked up at the ceiling of the car. “You, ah…”
Mark leaned over and kissed me. I cupped his face.
“Hmm?”
“You didn’t just buy that because of me, did you?” I asked in a small voice. “Because that’s not emotionally healthy, and I don’t think of you as a walking wallet or anything. You know me. I’m a simple creature. If you want to impress me, a cheeseburger would do the trick.”
Mark laughed then rested his forehead lightly against mine. “No. I mean yes. I wanted to find a place you would be happy. But really, I need some space from my family. They mean well, but they can be overbearing. They’re going to freak out once I tell them though.” Mark gave me a wry smile. “Maybe I want you to move in with me to be a buffer against my mother when she flips out.”
“I might need more than a cheeseburger for that one,” I joked as the town car pulled up in front of the bar.
“Would caviar do it?” Mark asked me as he stepped out of the car and escorted me to the door. “This is a new place that my cousin Dana told me about. They have unique cocktail and caviar pairings.”
“Fancy.”
“It’s from California, so I don’t know how fancy it really is,” Mark said conversationally as he held the door for me.
There was a short, middle-aged man in front of us waiting for the hostess to find his reservation.
“Don’t worry,” Mark said to me. “I already made a reservation. No standing around waiting for you.” He kissed my cheek.
“Uh huh,” I said, distracted because I was staring at the guy in front of us.
“You said the name was Dave Pratt?” the hostess asked him.
“That’s me!” the man confirmed.
“Just one?” she added.
He gave a self-conscious laugh. “I mean, unless you’d want to join me. Not that I meant it, you know,like that, I was just—sorry. I’m not that funny. My wife left me, you see, and uh…never mind.”
Awkward. So similarly, painfully awkward to something I would do.
Please don’t let it be him,I begged the universe.Please let it be a horrible coincidence. But as the guy turned to follow the hostess, I caught a glimpse of his face. It was clear that this was in facttheDave—my potential father.
“…And Carter bought this caviar that had gold foil all over it,” Mark was saying.
I turned my attention back to him while still keeping my eyes on Dave.
“Brea?”
