“Don’t be. Blaire was snapped up soon enough. Her bottom barely touched her seat before someone came over and asked her if she’d like to dance. Will you be well enough to drive, or will I need to offer her a ride home?”
“Would you?”
Mom rolled her eyes. “I was making a joke. But yes, if you’re having that terrible of a time, go now. I’ll tell her you got violently ill. Just don’t you dare say it was the food tonight. I’ll never get invited to another thing again. You have to tell her there’s a flu bug going around at work or something.”
I kissed my mom’s cheek. “I could dance with you first.”
“Go. Go before she sees you. I’m never talking you up to any of my friends again. I had no idea she’d take every word I said about you to heart.”
“What did you say about me?”
“Go.” She made a shooing motion. “You’re no longer a wonderful son who is very good with money, and so good-natured no one would believe it, so it doesn’t bear repeating.” She gave me a wink, assuring me all was forgiven, and I hightailed it out of the ballroom, only stopping to watch when it looked like an older gentleman was heading in my mother’s direction. I was ninety percent sure she wouldn’t dance with him. Sure enough, she invited him to sit with her instead, which he did.
Mom claimed she was too set in her ways for romance. It was more like she was holding out for an ideal situation and was more than content if it never came along.
I accepted the thank-you gift bag they handed me at the door, had the valet retrieve my car, and I drove home. Since I’d never given Blaire my personal cell number, I texted Connie and let her know to send Blaire my regrets for not staying longer, and that my stomach would be all better with a little bit of rest.
Connie texted back with four words.I told you so.They were followed by three more. Good for you.
I hung up my tux and left it on the door to be taken to the dry cleaners this week, and then I took a quick shower and changed into a t-shirt and shorts. Workouts late at night didn’t do good things for my sleep schedule, but I was restless. I opted for a walk on the treadmill with a slight incline. I had installed a projector screen in front of the treadmill, and I changed it to show rolling hills and pine trees so I had something to look at while I walked. After about two miles, I breathed easier.
I’d also realized something. It felt good to rely on Mom’s forgiveness, to stretch the limits of her patience. Not because she expected me to be perfect, but because I had always expected it of myself. And that was dumb. She would always need me, but our relationship would be better if sometimes I needed her, too.
Mom didn’t believe in texting, so I called to see if she’d gotten home yet.
“Hi, Mom.”
“I’m heading to bed, Dean. But I’m glad you checked in. Blaire was very worried about you. I had to take that story I suggested about the flu going around at your work and run with it.”
“Was she okay with you being her ride home?”
“Yes. Some guy in a green tuxedo and no dress socks invited her to an afterparty, but she said she’d much rather change clothes first and have her own transportation. So, we left not too long after you did.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Not at all. She has a vitamin concoction she swears by for warding off sickness. She took some and sent some home with me. I’m saving it for a real emergency. I have a dose for you as well.”
“That was nice of her.”
“Yes, it was. You won’t be calling her again, though, will you?”
“No.”
“Would you like the address to the afterparty? You could have a miraculous recovery.”
“That’s also a no.”
She gave me her signature sigh, the one I’d always caved to in the past. And then she laughed, ending in a little sigh. “I’ve never thought of myself as determined, but I guess I am. I’ll let this go. Goodnight, darling.”
“Goodnight, Mom.”
I shut everything down in the workout room and headed upstairs to watch a show, but my phone chimed with a text.
Grace: What happened?
Having her reach out first loosened something in my chest I hadn’t realized had been weighing on me. I sat cross-legged at the foot of my bed and quickly typed.
Dean: My answer won’t make me look good.
