He looks at Camila, eyebrows raised and eyes wide, thoroughly amused.
“Thanks, Mom, you’re right, I needed both.”
“Camila! What is wrong with you?” her mother shouts in disbelief.
Thankfully, before her mom can go off on a tangent about how unladylike she is, the doorbell rings.
“Please behave yourself from here on out,” her mother begs, taking the whiskey glass from Camila.
“When don’t I?” Camila smiles innocently.
She knows she’s acting childish; she doesn’t mean to. There’s something about being with her mom that makes her forget she’s a full-blown adult.
A few seconds later, a tall woman with an impressively tailored suit and long brown hair walks through the doors. Camila turns toward her mother, eyebrows knitted together, probably looking the definition of confused, but her mother doesn’t see her; she’s too busy beaming at the woman, walking right up to her.
“I’m so sorry I’m late. The Bettersons held me up on a call on my way here.”
“Oh, honey, don’t worry about it. We completely understand,” her mother says, which confuses Camila further because if there’s one thing she knows about her mother, it’s that she is a stickler for being on time.
“This is our daughter, Camila,” her mother says, guiding the woman toward her. “Camila, this is Zoe, your father’s newest and brightest associate.”
Camila stands and extends her hand. “Nice to meet you, Zoe,” she says as friendly as possible, but her mind is intensely confused.
She’d assumed the lunch guest would be a guy, like all the others her mom had insisted on introducing her to. Now, she isn’t sure what to make of this.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Zoe says, her gaze lingering on Camila before her eyes drop briefly to Camila’s lips—then back to her eyes.
Camila can’t tell if Zoe is being intentional about it, or if the flirtatious stare is her default. Regardless, Camila has never been on the receiving end of one that instantly makes her blush the way Zoe’s does.
“Sit, sit.” Her mother motions at the chair next to Camila. Zoe takes it, and they all sit.
Now Camila feels exceptionally underdressed. Her father and Zoe are both in suits, her mother is in a beautiful floor-length floral dress, and she is in her trusty parachute pants and a fitted muscle tee. Had she known her mom would try to set her up with a beautiful woman, Camila would have tried harder.
Lunch goes surprisingly smoothly. Camila learns all about Zoe, who just moved to Washington—a point her mother highlights several times as she pushes them to exchange numbers so they can “hang out.” She learns that Zoe has a golden retriever named Picasso, and, moreimportantly—or at least something her momreallywants her to know—that Zoe is on the market and gay.
So, Camila thinks it’s safe to assume this is indeed a setup, but a far more welcome one than any in the past. Still, it’s left her reeling.
After lunch, as predicted, Camila’s dad retires to his study, and her mom guides Camila and Zoey to the garden, where she sets up a dessert table she barely touches because as soon as she’s done, she remembers she needs to call a caterer for a party she’s helping someone named Marlene host. An excuse, Camila knows it, but she decides not to call her out on it.
“I’ll be back shortly. You girls have some dessert, and get to know each other better,” Camila’s mother says as she sets coffees and pastries in front of them.
“Thank you, Mrs. Oliveira,” Zoe says sweetly.
“Oh, please, call me Sandra,” her mother says before walking back toward the house.
Zoe takes a deep breath, and when Camila’s mother is out of earshot, she says, “I’m guessing they didn’t tell you I’d be joining you guys for lunch?”
“How’d you guess?”
Zoe laughs. “You looked surprised when I walked into the dining room.”
“I was,” Camila says honestly. She won’t tell Zoe why, because telling people her mother is—was? Camila doesn’t know right now—a touch homophobic isn’t exactly something she likes to share. Especially not with someone who has to see her more than Camila does.
“I’m sorry.” Zoe exhales, rubbing the back of her neck. “I hate when my mom does that to me. Now, I’ve somehow become the forced date. How the mighty have fallen.”
Camila chuckles. “No, don’t be. If it makes you feel anybetter, this is the first time my mom has set me up with someone I could actually be into. My shock was more from that than anything else. I was expecting a dude.”
“Well, I’m glad I didn’t disappoint then.”
