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I shouldn’t have been worried.
Like I mentioned, he had a talent with that.
* * *
Even though wehad to wait as long for a table as we would at Hash Kitchen, I picked Prep and Pastry for brunch because it was awesome, but also because it was close to Deb’s and my Motherland: Fashion Square Mall.
Anyway, the time flew as we waited outside and gabbed.
Of course, we didn’t tell them about our activities of the night before, except Luna’s party, her selfie spot (and I showed pictures, Deb was impressed, Dad seemed confused), her awesome cake (I showed a picture of that too, both Dad and Deb were impressed by that). And last, I filled them in on Dream.
Needless to say, both Dad and Deb were unimpressed by Dream.
After we were seated, I noted Cap’s interest in the pastry counter and the way he perused the menu.
So I leaned into him in his seat at my side (Dad and Deb were in the booth seat opposite us), and told him, “If you decide to explore making pastries, I’m totes down with that, just sayin’.”
He gave me a smile and a soft kiss then went back to his menu.
I went back to mine, trying not to feel the pain of knowing Dad and Deb were leaving soon, at the same time lamenting the fact I didn’t ask Luna, Scott, Louise, as well as Shirleen to this brunch.
I wanted my family to get to know each other.
That said, we still had a lot of catching up to do, so maybe when they came back for Thanksgiving (I was going with “when” rather than “if” to help with the fact they were leaving that day, though I had no idea how we’d manage a Thanksgiving feast in the courtyard, but if they came, by God, I’d find a way).
In the midst of eating, Luna sent a text that was a selfie of her wearing the necklace we gave her and a big ol’ smile with the messageI love it! Thank you!!!!!!and she added about twenty double pink hearts after that.
I showed that photo to Deb too, and we shared a moment the likes of which I never thought I’d have again.
Mom and daughter who done good while shopping.
Sure, she was my stepmom, but it worked for me.
We were lingering over coffees, and I was trying to figure out what we should do next because we had some more time, but we should also give up our table so the crowd outside could be thinned out and the establishment could make more money.
I was leaning toward trying to talk Dad and Cap into hanging out in the shoe section of Nordstrom while Deb and I tried things on when Cap pulled out his phone.
He looked at it, his brows drew down, he murmured to the table, “Sorry, gotta take this. Work,” then he kissed the side of my head, got up and strolled out of the restaurant.
“Uh…” Dad began, and I looked from watching Cap outside (okay, he had his back to us, so I was staring at his ass) to my dad. “What work does he do that he has to do it on a Sunday?”
“He’s a private investigator,” I informed them.
They both looked shocked.
“At his age?” Dad asked.
“He was in the Army, and he kinda sorta grew up with the team at the firm where he now works. His mom, the Black lady at Lon’s?” I asked to confirm they remembered her.
They nodded.
Even in all that was going on, I figured Shirleen was hard to forget.
“She’s the receptionist at the firm.”
“Ah,” Deb said.
“His mom is Black?” Dad queried.
