“I’m not hungry, Ma, but thank you.”
“You’re eating, Declan.” She puts the dish on the counter and turns to face me, reaching up on her tip toes to gently grasp my chin in her hand. She smiles, her hazel eyes soft. “If this man has stood you up, he’s going to regret it. This chicken is to die for.”
Fuck. I regret being so excited. I regret teasing her with information. I stupidly told her I was coming by and I had someone I wanted her to meet. I spent half the afternoon running fantasies in my mind about how this would go. When Abbott walked through the door and she looked confused I would say something like ‘I know you’ve met my friend Abbott Barlowe, but you haven’t met my boyfriend Abbott.’ And Ma would squeal with delight, because she loves Abbott. And Dad would shake his hand and then maybe we would have the chicken. And I would enjoy it. Now, despite the tangy taste of her marinade, I doubt I’ll be able to taste anything other than the bile rising in my throat.
I give my mom a curt nod because I know I’m not getting out of this and yank my phone out of my pocket. I text Logan.
Declan:I hate to bug you but have you seen Abbott today? He bailed on me. Not sure why.
I start to pace the kitchen. Dad walks in from the French doors that lead to the back deck. “It’s heating up. Please tell me you made that blue cheese potato salad I love so much too.”
Lucy grins. “Have I ever disappointed you, Charlie? Of course. And the beet and feta salad Deck loves too.”
Dad winks at Ma. The love in his eyes is clear and crisp and palpable. And it’s not just because she’s a genius in the kitchen. They have lit each other’s worlds on fire for decades. Long before my mother would even admit it, if you go by Ocean Pines gossip, which who doesn’t? I thought I had found that with Abbott when I was a kid and I started believing it again. And I hate myself for it now.
As I set the table and sit down to eat with my parents, they thankfully try to conceal their sympathy as the night progresses and it’s clear my mystery man will remain that way. But the damage has been done to more than just my ego. I’m slowly putting up those emotional bricks around my heart. I want to block everyone and everything out again. It was easier.
As I’m rinsing the dishes, after a blueberry cobbler that was delicious but is sitting like lead in my gut, Logan finally gets back to me.
Logan:Sorry. Was out at beach with dogs. Didn’t bring phone. I texted him. He hasn’t responded. I can call his sponsor if this is a red alert situation.
Declan: No. Not yet. I’ll head home and see what Aspy knows first.
Logan: Text me back even if all is good. Just need to know.
I send him a thumbs-up and turn to Dad. Ma is already in the living room, firing up the television so they can watchOnly Murders in The Buildingtogether. Mom always says she would leave dad for Steve Martin, even though he’s twenty years older than her. The deal in the Hawkins house has always been if you cook, you don’t clean. Dad picks up his final plate, which is smeared blue with blueberry remnants. He doesn’t hand it to me though. He steps up to the sink next to me and shoves me out of the way with a ginger hip check. “Get going. I can tell you want to figure out what went wrong tonight. I can do the dishes.”
“I don’t mind. Gives you a night off.”
Dad smiles. “I like doing the dishes. If I take too long, your Ma gets ornery and comes in here and whips my butt with a tea towel.”
He wiggles his eyebrows and I groan. But I’m smiling which is not something old Deck would have done in a situation like this. I would be so focused on the bad that I would block out even the smallest trace of good. And my parents are so fucking good. I blink before I can well up. Jesus, I hate emotions.
“Thanks, Dad.” I start to walk toward the front of the house to say goodbye to my mom and thank her before I leave.
“Deck!” I turn and catch his eye over my shoulder. “While you’re figuring out what went wrong tonight, I want to make it clear, it wasn’t you. You tend to blame yourself and this ain’t on you, kid. If this guy doesn’t know how great you are, doesn’t want to give you what you want, you’re not the problem. Don’t settle.”
I smile. “When did you get all philosophical, like Buddha?”
He chuckles and rubs his belly. “I guess there are worse things than being that fat little fucker.”
“No swearing!” Ma bellows.
“The woman has ears like a bloody bat.”
“I heard that!”
After I say goodbye to Ma, I drive straight back to our house to see if Abbott is there. His car is in the driveway and I don’t know if I should be happy, sad, or scared about that. I get out of the car with a million questions zipping through my brain. Why didn’t he meet me? Is he drunk again? If he is, what do I do? Did he change his mind about telling my parents? Why? What did I do?
I open the door and step inside. I would call his name but the thought of it is giving me flashbacks to that not-so-distant, horrible night. So instead, I just walk into the living room. The light is on at the back of the house, in the kitchen, so I move toward it. I find him at the island with a man in a suit I’ve never seen before in my life. There’re two open laptops and a small pile of paperwork in front of them.
“Hi.”
They both look up, completely startled. The stranger is handsome. Thick dark hair, dark eyes, and a frame that fills out his designer suit nicely. But I take that in fleetingly, because my eyes don’t linger on him. They move to Abbott. He looks tired. Haggard even. He’s in a plain gray t-shirt and a pair of workout shorts. His hair is damp. And his beard, the thing I have grown shockingly addicted to, is gone.
“This is Bentley.” Abbott gestures to the stranger who meets my eye only long enough to give me a curt nod hello.
“Hi,” I say even though Bentley — is that a first name or a last name? No idea — has gone back to shuffling papers. “What’s… what’s going on?”
