Page 119 of Autumn on My Mind

“Our apologies,” Daryl says, and then he looks at me. “I need to take your mother home,” he says his smile fading into something regretful. “I expect we’ll see each other again soon, Reese.” Then, with a little wave, he says, “Have a good evening, kids. On me.” He points at his credit card and then shuffles away without another word, the waiter following him, and Dominic and I are left standing at the empty table, staring at each other.

I want to say something flippant, or funny, or relaxed. My mother behaved exactly how I thought she would; no surprises here.

But being right has never hurt so much. It’s never been filled with so much exhaustion, either.

Dom squeezes my hand, and I startle, looking over at him. His eyes are full of understanding, but all he says is “So? What do you think?” Then he nods at his dad’s card and lifts one brow. “Should we try some dessert?”

And my heart feels utterly broken, worn out and tired and defeated, but…

“Yeah,” I say simply. “Let’s have dessert.”

Alvina does not speak to me for two weeks.

I try not to keep track. I really do try. Somehow my brain counts the time anyway, because she’s my mother, and brains are hardwired to notice things like mothers.

Despite Dom’s persistent questions, Daryl won’t give too many details about the relationship he had with Alvina, or why they broke up. I do have some suspicions, one of which Daryl confirms when he invites Dom and I over to his house for dinner at the beginning of November.

“I did wonder if there was something going on between you,” he admits, looking back and forth between us. We’re gathered around the dining room table, and I’m doing my best not to let my eyes wander to the living room, where a spying Dominic and I once saw Daryl and Alvina kissing. “After the potluck dinner,” Daryl goes on. “And then—at the wedding reception.”

“Well,” Dom says, glancing over at me. He startles when he sees me shoving my face full of food—shepherd’s pie, which Daryl made after asking Dominic what I like to eat.

But then Dom shakes his head and smiles. “You were right. There was definitely something going on.”

Daryl’s answering nod is slow, his expression thoughtful once more; it’s how he looks at us a lot, I’m noticing, and I get the impression that he has a good head on his shoulders.

Although I’m not convinced, based on what he says next.

“Believe it or not, Reese, your mother is quite the woman.”

“She’s…something,” I manage around a mouth full of food, and Daryl’s lips quirk in a way that reminds me of Dom.

“She is.” It could not be plainer that he understands all the things I’m not saying, but when he goes on, his voice is gentle. “She’s singular in many ways—most of them that you probably don’t see.” Then he sighs and shakes his head. “But she’s not in a place where she can have a relationship, I don’t think.”

I swallow, take a drink of water, and then look at Dom. “Actually…” I begin. I lift my brows in silent question when Dominic’s eyes meet mine—Can I tell him?—and he shrugs—Go ahead.

So I nod and confess the truth. “You’re right—about Alvina, I mean. But Dom and I had also been…uh”—I shoot another look at Dom—“keeping an eye on the two of you.”

Daryl’s brows jump, and he sets his spoon down on his plate with a little clink. “How so?”

I kick Dom under the table. “Fall on the grenade,” I say.

“You’re the one who brought it up,” he replies. “Why should I?”

“Because we should tell him,” I say. “He should know, shouldn’t he? And he can’t get mad at you forever. But I’m just the girlfriend⁠—”

“Kids,” Daryl cuts in, his brows still lifted, his expression expectant.

Dominic shoots me one last look and then sighs. “We were trying to break you up,” he says to his dad. No frills, no beating around the bush. “Not very successfully, but we did try.”

“We put bleach in your shampoo,” I say, my cheeks heating.

With a succinct nod, Dom continues, “And we were the ones blasting music up at the Ridge.”

A ruddy flush of color rises in Daryl’s neck—so that’s where Dom gets it!—but he arches his brow and looks sternly back and forth between us. “Anything else?” he says.

He is not impressed.

“Just some general spying and sneaking,” I mutter, because I need to own my part. I avoid Daryl’s eye and sink down in my chair a little. “I’m…sorry.”