Luckily, there’s no mention of dessert. Even if something had been planned, it was obvious Hope’s nerves were shot and, while nobody was attacked with cutlery or flying dinner rolls, prolonging the evening doesn’t seem like a great idea.
Especially when Daisy and AJ are dismissed from the table and we lose our adorable conversational buffers.
There’s not much else to do. Gin and I offer to help clean up, but Hope waves us off. Sitting in the living room, trying to think of neutral things to talk about will either lead to awkward silence or more verbal sparring. We’ve done what we set out to do, which was test whether Colleen Reilly and Gin Gamble could tolerate each other’s presence enough for them to attend the wedding.
And it went okay…ish.
The goodbyes are stilted, but neither of our mothers takes a verbal shot at the other. After thanking Hope and Aaron, I say goodbye to Colleen—my future mother-in-law, which is surreal—and then I accept a kiss on the cheek from Hayden.
He was aiming for my mouth, and he chuckles against my face when I turn at the last second. It just feels strange to kiss in front of both of our mothers, even with the story we’re selling them. And maybe, thanks to the angles, they can’t tell he missed my mouth.
Gin and I drive home in tense silence. I know I should say something, but nothing I say is going to make her okay with what I asked of her tonight. Instead, I let her stew, knowing if she wants to talk about it, she won’t be shy.
After being in Aaron’s big new house, with its open spaces and high end finishes, our house looks extra shabby, but I try not to wallow in the comparison. I remember, when I was in elementary school, some of the kids thought my family was rich because we lived in the big Gamble house—the only mansion in town. I knew, even then, that my family had been rich once, but we certainly weren’t anymore. What a life looks like from the outside never tells the whole story. Or a true story.
Gin goes straight to the kitchen to set up the auto brew on the coffeemaker so it’ll be ready to drink when we get up in the morning. I’m braced for a torrent of anti-Reilly rhetoric, but she simply finishes her task and then fills the tumbler she keeps next to her bed with fresh water.
I can’t stand the silence anymore. “Thanks again for tonight, Mom. It wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“They were friendly enough, I suppose, but I have a headache and I’m going to read in my room for a while.” She starts walking in that direction, but can’t resist a final shot over her shoulder. “The lasagna was too runny, though.”
I want to push back—the lasagna was excellent, actually—but I let her go. If being civil in the presence of the Reilly family and then trash-talking them behind closed doors is how my mother’s going to get through this, I’ll let it be.
The next time Gin and Colleen will be in the same place will be my wedding. Saturday. Four more sleeps and a wake-up, and Hayden and I will be standing in front of our friends and families, vowing to love each other until death do we part.
I lift my hand so the ridiculously large and utterly gorgeous ring on my finger catches the light, and I remember the way he looked at me when I went into his arms to say goodbye.
I knew in that moment he wanted to kiss me, and I also knew I wanted him to.
This plan of Hayden’s to buy our house better be worth it because there’s a good chance I’m going to get my heart broken—again—in the process.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Hayden
Besides babysitting, another of my punishments for inflicting Gin Gamble on my mother and a surprise dinner hosting on Hope is kitchen cleanup duty.
It’s not too bad. They have a top of the line dishwasher, so it’s mostly just solving the puzzle of how to make everything fit. I’ve had a lot of practice with my own dishwasher, of course, but it’s not hard to make space in an appliance for a single plate and fork.
I hear my mother saying goodbye to the others in the living room, followed by the sound of the front door closing. I’m not surprised she didn’t come and say goodbye to me. Her sitting down to share a meal with Gin Gamble was a big ask, so I’m not her favorite person right now. I’ll probably get an earful about blue ribbon pickles when I get home, though.
I’ve got the plates and glasses sorted, and I’m working on the cutlery when Aaron walks into the kitchen. He doesn’t help, but instead leans against the island and folds his arms. “That went pretty well, all things considered.”
“Mom and Gin both came close to blowing up, but I’m sure it was understood that anybody causing a problem would be uninvited from the wedding.”
“That helped, I’m sure.” Aaron chuckles. “Saturday. In a few days, you’ll be a married man.”
“I should have talked her into eloping.” It was a lie. I was looking forward to the entire town witnessing the fact I am, in fact, good enough for the Gambles. One of them, anyway. But the lie keeps the conversation light.
My brother laughs. “Tracking you down would really have brought Mom and Gin together.”
“We would have been home before they were done arguing about who was going to drive.”
“Don’t be mad, but I honestly thought you were just scamming Cara out of her family home. I didn’t want to think you were capable of using a woman’s heart to do it, but that’s what it looked like to me.” He sighs while I focus on making sure all of the knives are point-down in the silverware basket. “But now that I’ve seen you together, it’s clear you guys are the real deal.”
For obvious reasons, his words make me uncomfortable, and I’m thankful I’m bent over the dishwasher. Fussing with the silverware keeps me from having to look my brother in the eye.
But there’s a less obvious reason for my discomfort, too, and it’s the one that’s making it hard for me to think. Neither Cara nor I have much in the way of acting skills, so why was one dinner with us enough to change the mind of the man who knows me better than anybody?
