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“Well, I thought Andy was a meal, and look where that got me.”
Andy, ‘a meal’. What a piece of shit he turned out to be. Just goes to show.
Mom nods slowly. “So… I’m thinking you have feelings for Rake? Or something like that?”
It’s such early days, I don’t know how to put my thoughts into words. So, I keep it simple. “I… enjoy his company. And he enjoys mine.”
“Public relationships are hard. I suppose I don’t need to tell you that. But if you think he’s a good man, Petal, I say go for it. You’re smart and aside from being deceived by Andy, your instincts are usually spot on.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I say, my voice breaking.
Why am I being such a wuss lately, ready to cry at the drop of a hat?
I clear my throat loudly and suck down the rest of my wine. “I gotta get back to Sonoma. I told Tina I’d open for her tomorrow. I can’t believe that woman hasn’t fired me yet with all the press and looky-loos hanging around?—”
The doorbell rings and Mom and I look at each other.
“Expecting someone?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No.”
The housekeeper hustles to the front door, and I hear quiet conversation. Probably some sort of solicitation, a kid selling chocolate for his school fundraiser or something like that. But she pokes her head into the dining room.
“Petal, someone is here for you.”
Mom wrinkles her face. “Someone’s here for Petal? Are your girlfriends coming over, honey?”
I shake my headnoand push back from the table. “Let me see who it is.”
The housekeeper waits for me, then heads back to the kitchen.
I pull open the partially-closed front door and my stomach drops. My amazing dinner is suddenly doing funny things to my stomach and the taste of delicious wine on my tongue goes sour.
It’s Andy. Andy Stackhouse. The guy I thought was a ‘meal’, to use my mother’s term, who turned out to be nothing more than a rotten egg.
I stand there, my mouth too dry to speak.
“Hey, Petal. Saw your car out front.”
“Why are you here?”
Mom shows up next to me. “Hello, Andy,” she says quietly. Then she gets close to my ear. “You okay, Petal?”
I nod, and she leaves us.
He juts his chin forward, confident as always. “I wanted to talk.”
“So, you were just driving by and happened to see my car. Andy, you live clear across town. You don’t even like this part of the city.”
He looks down at his perfectly polished shoes.
“Look, that doesn’t matter. May I come in?” he asks.
I look at his slicked-back blond hair and his deep brown eyes. They used to make my heart jump. It was so hard to believe someone like Andy Stackhouse wanted to be withme.
And now I can’t understand why I ever wanted to be withhim. Everything about this man makes me sick.
The deceit.
