“Mom. Chill, please?” I call after her, knowing it won’t do any good.
I hear her greet Mila, and exclaim over whatever tray of deliciousness Mila brought with her. They walk into the kitchen, and my mom’s arm is threaded through Mila’s and they’re both laughing. Milo comes trotting in after them and heads straight for my dad, as if he knows who the other dog lover is.
That was easy.
Mila sets down the plate she’s carrying and walks over to me. I put my arm around her shoulders and kiss the side of her head. “Hey, thanks for coming. Wine?” I ask casually, ignoring the fact that my mom is watching the two of us, and I’m pretty sure her eyes are shining.
“So, Mila, Jackson says you’re responsible for him feeling so…welcome in town.” The innuendo couldn’t be any stronger, and Mom picks up her wine glass and sips it innocently. I narrow my eyes at her.
“Oh, umm, yeah. Well, he’s a great guy.” Mila sputters, grabbing the glass I hand her and taking a large swallow. I place my hand on the small of her back and decide to take pity on her. After all, she doesn’t know that I’ve decided I want to make things real between us. I guess I can understand why my mother’s excitement is confusing.
“Mom, we’re just friends. I told you.” I chide gently.
Mom just smiles at us over her wine glass. “Mmhmm. Just friends. Right. I heard you,” she says mildly.
I roll my eyes and head out to the grill to pull dinner off. We dish up chicken, salad, and fresh corn on the cob and sit down to eat.
Conversation turns to Mila’s expansion, and when my dad hears that she’s been experimenting with a soft pretzel recipe, his ears perk right up.
“I’ll make some tomorrow after I finish the baking for the day,” Mila says with a smile.
“You’re a keeper, Mila,” my dad says, patting her shoulder and giving me a raised eyebrow.
I see Mila look at the clock; it’s well after eight pm.
“Well, I should be going so you guys can settle in.” She stands up and goes to gather her things. My mom shoots daggers at me before jumping up and grabbing Mila’s arm. I don’t know what I did to piss off Mom, but I think Mila leaving has something to do with it.
“Oh, honey, don’t leave on our account. We got a last-minute cancellation at that new place on the beach,” my mom says. “You two stay and enjoy each other. Have some more wine.”
“Oh my God, Mom.” I groan at her innuendo.
Mila smiles, but her eyes dart up to me and they hold some uncertainty that I’m even more determined to erase after seeing how easily she gets along with my parents. “You’ll love it there, Anne. My best friend runs the place.”
“How lovely,” Mom beams, and pulls Mila in for a hug. “It’s just so nice to meet you. I’m making Jackson bring us to the bakery for breakfast tomorrow. We’ll see you then.”
She turns to me and wraps her arms around my middle. “Bye, sweetie. See you tomorrow.” Then she pulls my head down to her level to kiss my cheek, and she whispers quietly, “Just friends, huh? Fix that, Jackson Holt.”
My parents leave, and then it’s just Mila and I. My mother’s parting words linger with me. Fix it, Jackson.
“Sorry about their enthusiasm for us. They don’t claim to be subtle,” I joke.
“Your parents are wonderful.”
Something passes between us, and I know what I need to do. I walk over to my bag from work and pull out the envelope Phil gave me. Waving it at Mila, I say, “I’m pretty sure this is some good news. Stay for another glass and celebrate?”
She looks at the clock and I can see the indecision.
“Please, Mila.” I’m not above begging. I need her to stay.
“Okay. But only a small one,” she capitulates. I grin, pour some wine and take her hand to lead her back to the deck. We sit down on the chairs after I pull mine to be right next to hers, and I finally open the letter.
“It is my honour to present you with an offer to purchase half ownership of the Dogwood Cove Veterinary Clinic,” I read, a grin stretching across my face. I look at Mila, and she’s smiling, but it’s tinged with something else. “We did it. I got the partnership.”
“That’s great, Jackson, I’m so happy.” She sips her wine and I put the letter down before taking the glass from her hands and setting it on the table.
“Are you?”
She laughs, but won’t meet my eyes. “Of course. You got your partnership, my café is almost ready to open — we both got what we wanted, so now we can end the charade and stop lying to everyone.”
