CHAPTER NINE
Riding high onfeelings of good will toward my mom, I accept her invitation tostay for lunch. It only takes a few minutes of coaxing for her toagree to let me order from my favorite Japanese place. Shedisappears after watching me order from an app on my phone. I havethis ridiculous image of her scurrying to the kitchen and scarfingdown whatever she’d planned to have for lunch and then claiming alack of appetite once the food arrives. At least I hope it’sridiculous.
Instead, shereturns wearing a more casual pair of slacks and a dark pinksweater set. It’s still fancier than anything I’d personally weararound the house, but it’s progress. I have a moment to notice shelooks shorter than usual before she rounds the couch and lifts oneleg, wiggling her foot in my direction. In place of her usualankle-breaking heels are the slipper socks I got her lastChristmas.
“Triumph!” I cry, clapping my hands.
She gives me anindulgent smile. From the twinkle in her eyes, I know she’s tryingnot to laugh. I saw that look a lot as a kid, especially when I’dcome home from playing with Wesley and would be covered inscratches, with muddy knees, and bits of leaves and grass in myhair. I’ve missed that look.
“I dugout the hand-painted chopsticks the Rutherfords brought your dadand me from their last trip to Japan,” she says. “We’ve never usedthem, so I thought this was the perfect opportunity.”
I don’t tell herthe restaurant will send chopsticks. At this point, if shesuggested we eat with utensils made from solid gold, I’d go alongwith it. “Sounds good. Do you want me to set places at the diningroom table?”
I can’t deny thisis a bit of a test. Not the kind she can pass or fail, but the kindmy curiosity can’t help but issue. I’m hoping she’ll suggest we eatat the breakfast nook in the kitchen rather than in the cavernousdining room.
Without missing abeat, she says, “Actually, I was thinking we could eat in the mediaroom and watch a movie. Does that suit you, honey?”
A rush ofaffection warms me from head to toe. “That suits me just fine,Mom.”
*****
When I leave myparents’ place a few hours later, I decide to run a few errands soI can sleep in tomorrow. In the grocery store, I catch severalpeople staring at me, and wonder if my good mood has elevated myvibration to magnetic levels…until I remember I’m wearing a fullface of makeup, with a hairdo worthy of a black tie event. I pickup the pace after that, opting to forgo the rest of my errands infavor of going home to shower.
I textStella while I’m waiting in the check-out line.Heading home in a few. Need anything while I’m out? Want meto pick up something for dinner?
Sheanswers almost immediately:Actually, yes.If I place an order at Angelo’s, can you pick it up?
Ofcourse. Send me the pick up time when you have it.
Stella texts methe time a few minutes later, and I head straight to the pizzaplace. When the twenty-something guy behind the counter comes outwith two large pizzas, an order of cheesy bread, and a variety ofdips, I question if it’s the correct order.
“EvieHathaway, right? You placed the order online?” He rattles offStella’s email address as the contact, so I accept the armload offood, along with his offer to help me to my car. Unfortunately,there are no cute young guys to help me when I get home, so Istruggle into my condo building and take the elevator up to myfloor. Thankfully, Stella flings the door open as I approachit.
“Hey.”The word comes out on a gasp. I should have sucked it up and made asecond trip to get my groceries, but my stubborn side had meshouldering my cloth bags along with everything from the pizzaplace. “What’s with all the food?”
Stella surgesforward to lighten my load. When she steps back, she bumps the doorwider with her hip to reveal Hollie and Louisa standing in theliving room wearing matching grins.
“Surprise,” Hollie says. “We thought we’d kick off yourbirthday celebrations early.”
“Wethought you might need it after spending the day doing party prep,”Louisa says. “Stella kept sending us screencaps of yourtexts.”
Before I canreact, movement across the room catches my eye, and Wesley stepsout of the kitchen holding a bottle of wine. “They also thought youmight need this. I brought several bottles in the hopes you’d letme crash this impromptu girls’ night.”
With Stella nowholding the food and Hollie and Louisa freeing me of my grocerybags, all I want is to fly into Wesley’s arms. He grins at me likehe knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“Gopour that wine and we’ll think about letting you stay,” Stellatells her brother, elbowing him as she passes him on her way to thekitchen.
Wesley keeps hisgaze on me as he gives Stella a playful shove. Looks like theMcGrath siblings are on their way to patching things up after theirmysterious spat. “What do you think, Buttercup? Is it okay if Istay?”
I lift oneshoulder in a casual shrug even though my heart is attempting tobreak free from my ribcage. “I mean, I guess,” I say, loving theway his eyes flash with mirth.
Stella calls Wes’sname from the kitchen and he replies that he’s coming. He doesn’tmove, though. From the way his eyes move over my face and hair, Iknow he’s taking in the results of Mom’s Glam Squad. I expect aquippy comment; maybe something about him feeling underdressed orhow my leggings, plaid shirt, and denim jacket are at odds witheverything that’s happening from the neck up. Instead, he smilessoftly and pivots on his socked feet to head for thekitchen.
Suckingin a shaky breath, I dash down the hall to my bedroom. In myensuite, I scrub my face clean and pull the pins free from mypartial updo. My hands move on autopilot to toss my hair into abun, but I stop, letting the waves fall around my shoulders. Backin my bedroom, my gaze goes to the Discman and red jewel casesitting on my bedside table. I haven’t had a chance to listen tothe CD again since Sunday morning, but I finally read the insert.It simply said ‘I hope you enjoy thisblast from the past. All my love, always, Wesley’, with a few lopsided hearts drawn around it. It filled mewith warmth, and yet I’m not sure why Stella thought the missivewas so noteworthy.
A tapping soundmakes me whirl around to face the door. Wesley is there, holdingtwo glasses of wine.
“Ifigured we wouldn’t get much time alone tonight, so I used the wineas an excuse to slip away.” He hovers in the doorway as if waitingfor permission to enter, so I wave him in. My heart rateaccelerates with each step he takes toward me while my brainscreams ‘why does he want to be alone withyou?’
