But I couldn’t stop thinking about Fitz while I curled up last night on the couch that was way less comfortable than my bed, especially since I couldn’t have any wine since my mom likes her wine in the evening, and between her and Gran, they drank up the bottle.
It’s infuriating how soft and kind and caring he was with Kathy—not because he knew her and cared about her, just simply because she existed.
“This is a good thing,” I try to remind myself so I don’t start crying into the butter melting in the double boiler. “He’s going to fall in love with her.”
Scratch that—Fitz has already fallen in love with her, and they’re going to have a whirlwind romance, and then he’s going to sweep her off her feet and marry her Cinderella style, with her happy ending. It’s going to be like Knox all over again.
“Making your famous hollandaise sauce?” My dad comes in from outside in nothing but his tighty-whities with a newspaper tucked under one arm and cup of coffee in his hand.
“Dad, you cannot stand outside half naked.”
“This is how I spend my mornings, Winn. I’m not changing just because this is the West Coast. It gets things moving—a little fresh air on your—”
“Mark, go put on some clothes.” My mother bustles in. “Carolina is here.”
“Carolina? Shoot, she’s family.” He sits down at the table.
“I brought French toast casserole and more lemons.” Carolina greets us. “Um, also? Loony Laura is messaging me. She wants me to plan her freaking engagement party.”
“How many people does she want to come?”
“It’s an ever-dwindling list. Apparently, she’s not speaking to her grandparents.” Carolina grimaces and starts slicing lemons for the hollandaise.
She’s juicing them as yawning Kathy, ensconced in a gauzy robe, floats down the staircase.
She’ll look so good with Fitz. The truth hits me in the chest.
Meanwhile, I’m in a stained, ripped T-shirt spattered with lemon pulp and grease as I fry the Canadian bacon for the eggs Benedict Kathy begged for yesterday.
“Did your Fitz come back last night?” she asks me, excited, as my mom fusses over her beautiful daughter.
“No,” I snap, furiously stirring the hollandaise.
“Oh. Carolina and I were hoping that’s why you wanted to stay late.”
“No. Fitz can go drown in the ocean.”
“You should have given him your number so he can ask you out.”
“He didn’t ask,” I snap.
“Just ask him out,” Carolina begs. “For the love of—”
“I’m not asking him out!”
“I’m dealing with Loony Laura so that you can get a man!” Carolina slaps down a lemon threateningly.
“What—no, that wasn’t the—”
“You have a boy you like?” Gran hollers, speed walking into the room.
“He’s a billionaire,” Kathy tells them happily.
“I’m not asking him out.”
“Of all the— I thought I taught you better than that,” Gran rails. “I need new yarn. These knitting ladies I got caught up with are so uppity with their fancy yarns. I’m done with the knitting club, swear to Jimmy Buffett. I’m going to join a motorcycle gang.”
Sighing, I offer, “There’s money in my purse, Gran. Go buy yarn.”
