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“There we go,” says Beck, watching me with approval. “So what’s the plan, Coop?”
“Good question,” I say. I tap my fingers on the bar. “Yeah, I gotta run. What do I owe you for the coffee?”
“On the house,” he says, waving me off. “Go.”
I grin and head back up to my apartment to plot.
This is a mistake. Surely this a mistake. This is possibly the dumbest thing I’ve ever attempted in my lifetime.
I’m nervous. I never get nervous. Never. Yet here I sit, tapping my foot, sweating like a pig. I can practically smell the nerves.
They’re just people, says the grown-up part of my brain. Just adults, same as you. Human beings.
They’re not just people, though. They’re Drew’s parents. And Bailey’s mom. I couldn’t find out anything about her dad, so I’m banking on this being enough.
I couldn’t believe they’d agreed to meet with me, any of them. Especially after the earful I got from Bailey’s mom about being a bad influence on her daughter and how they’re Rosses and Rosses are better than that. Among other things.
I don’t remember Bailey talking all that much about her childhood, but I was under the impression she and her mom had it kind of rough. Maybe I was wrong.
Anyway, none of that matters. What matters is that they agreed to come here, to hear me out.
Now I just have to figure out what the hell I’m going to say. The speech I wrote down seems so… so trite. You don’t write speeches for an audience of only three people, do you? I should have looked this up.
Chill out, dude. You’re going to freak them out before they even get to the table.
I’m startled out of my nerve-induced jitters when the bell over the cafe door jingles. I’d picked Bill & Jillie’s Market on Market Street because they catered the party for Drew’s parents a few weeks ago. I thought it might seem like home turf to them, and I’ll take any points I can get in this battle.
The woman standing at the door glances around and I rise to my feet, waving her over. She’s a slightly older version of Bailey. If I thought my girl was beautiful now, it’s nothing to what she’ll be in thirty years based on what Mrs. Ross looks like.
“You must be Mrs. Ross,” I say, extending a hand. She raises a brow at me but shakes my hand delicately.
“You’re Cooper Lawson,” she says.
“I am. Will you have a seat?” I’ve occupied the largest table in the cafe in the hopes it’ll buy us some privacy. Fortunately, the place is mostly empty.
“Can I get you something to drink? We’re only waiting on Mr. and Mrs. Hicks,” I say.
“Right,” says Bailey’s mother. “I’d forgotten they were coming.” The way she pats her hair makes me think that’s a lie, but I’ve got too much on my mind to care. I’ve only just retrieved her espresso from Bill at the counter when Drew’s parents arrive.
“Mr. Hicks, nice to see you again,” I say. Considering how things went at the party, I’m not surprised when he declines to shake my hand, though I make it a point to offer. “This must be Mrs. Hicks.”
“Hello,” she says, giving me a small smile. Drew favors his father in looks, but the sweetness in her smile tells me everything I need to know about where he gets his generosity.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say. “Will you join us?”
“Oh, Sandra, so nice to see you again,” chirps Mrs. Ross as we take our seats. “Hello, Roy. How have you two been?”
“Hello, Nina,” says Mr. Hicks coolly. He looks as though he’d just as soon be licking the dumpster out back as sitting here, so I clear my throat to get their attention. Everyone turns to look at me. I’m no stranger to being the center of attention. I’ve been known—on occasion—to seek it out, even.
Sitting in front of my lovers’ parents feels like facing down a firing squad.
“Thank you all for coming,” I say, swallowing down my nerves and straightening my posture. “I won’t keep you long, but I wanted the chance to clear the air…”
31
Bailey
“Beezy, you know I love you, but it’s been three weeks,” says Evie, tiptoeing around the pile of clothes on my living room floor. “You’ve got to get out of here, get some air. Something.”
