Flynn winked.“I need to go convince my mom that there’s no secret disaster behind this unexpected visit.But don’t think I’m done with you yet, okay?”
The door clicking shut behind him was my cue to fall back in frustration.The ceiling offered little consolation.
Chapter Twenty-Three
My parents were curiousabout Flynn’s visit, I could tell.Not that they’d do anything so proactive, of course, as asking me about it.Instead I caught them sharing glances and casting skeptical looks my way, as though I was a suddenly-discovered unexploded munition that could pop at any moment.
On the one hand, not having to think up an excuse was a relief.All the same, the tension in the house was starting to grate.
I’d made my dislike of him too clear over the years, that was the problem.Rolled my eyes once too often behind Flynn’s mom’s back, as she waxed lyrical about his latest promotion.They’d seen my social temperature drop to sub-zero digits when the topic of my former friend, formerly of next door, came up.
Honestly, half of their interest was probably from wondering why I hadn’t just erupted with rage when he came over.
“Do you have any plans tonight, honey?”My mom’s voice had that too-casual brittleness, which I associated with her having already played an argument out in her head.
“Nothing, no.”
She nodded, first at me, then at my dad.“Well, we were going to call on the Callahans, weren’t we.”My father nodded, on cue.“So you’re welcome to come with us, but...”
The invitation trailed off, perfectly timed for me to grimace and then decline.“Thanks, mom, but I think I’ll skip it.”
The Callahans were nice people.Boring, deathly boring, but nice.
“I’ll leave a casserole in the oven for you, anyway,” my mom continued.
I chuckled.“I’m capable of making a meal for myself, y’know.I don’t think I’m going to starve.”
She flashed me a haughty look, welcome if only because it meant for a moment she was no longer tip-toeing around me.“A lot of people would be thankful for the consideration, Oliver.”
Oliver.Things had escalated to full-name level.I bit back my grin, trying to look contrite and grateful instead.“And I am, mom.I just don’t want you to go to any effort, just for me.I can make something myself and save you the time.”
It was a snort of disbelief, mixed with sucking her teeth.A noise I associated entirely with my mother.“Don’t be silly, honey.”Clearly the severity had been downgraded.“You know I’m happy to.”
#
The smell of groundbeef topped with cheesy scalloped potatoes was, I had to admit, a welcome one to have drifting around the house.I’d caught my stomach rumbling a couple of times already.The sticky note on the oven door, though, made clear that I was expected to have patience before I could have dinner.
