Page 67 of Miss Fortune

Oh. My. God. She made it sound like I was twelve. “I’m sure Caleb has other plans.” He was probably ready to climb the walls to get away from them. I know I was.

“Actually, I’m free this morning. How about I make a reservation at a nearby restaurant for brunch and meet you there? I’ll text you the name and address.”

“Sounds good.” It did not sound good. I was torn between wanting him there with me for moral support and worried the whole parent thing would eventually freak him the hell out. Yet the way he’d taken charge of sorting out a reservation left me eternally grateful.

The moment Caleb left, shutting the front door behind him, I escaped to my bathroom to take a shower and get ready. What in the hell? I’d been here eighteen months, and my parents had never expressed an interest in visiting. I walked out tentatively to see them on the couch talking softly.

“There she is, looking more like the Daisy I know,” my mother said.

It was tempting to remind her I’d just woken up when they’d buzzed, but no one needed to put that together with Caleb answering the intercom. Nope. We were officially operating on a need-to-know basis only. “Here I am.”

I sat in the back of my parents’ rental car, a Ford Taurus, on the way to the restaurant a couple miles away. We hadn’t been on the road a full minute before the questions started from my mother. “How long have you been seeing Caleb?”

“A few months.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a lawyer.”

My dad mumbled something I suspected wasn’t entirely favorable. My mom, on the other hand, appeared mildly impressed.

“Is it serious?”

Seriously awkward. “No, it isn’t. We’re friends.”

“So sleeping together is what friends do in LA?”

My dad fixed a side eye on her, firmly on team don’t give me any details about my daughter having sex.

“What brings you out here?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Can’t we visit our only daughter without getting the third degree?”

“I was unaware asking why the surprise was the third degree.” I tried a different tack, thinking it might be nice to introduce them to my world. Maybe they could meet Tory and Penny, have lunch with Doris, or we could do the tourist thing around town. “I’m happy to see you both, and I’d love to show you around town. How long are you staying?”

“We leave Thursday.”

“You’re only staying four nights?”

“Technically, it was five, but we got in late. You know how hard it is to be away from the house for too long. Have you been taking care of yourself?”

There it was. The expected question. “Yes, I have.”

“Is Caleb aware of your condition?”

I absolutely hated when she referred to my heart transplant as “my condition.” It wasn’t her fault I was born with a defect, but she didn’t have to keep reminding me I’d never be normal. “He’s aware, yes.”

“When is the last time you saw your specialist?”

This is where I tried to remember although my mom could drive me crazy with this, she did it because she loved me. She did it because she’d almost lost me. “Three months ago. Everything is good, Mom.”

She sighed as if unsure whether to believe me. This was the fundamental reason I’d needed to move away from home. Because no matter how old I got, how good I was feeling, or how positive the prognosis, my mom had a tough time letting go of her role as mother of a sick child.

My dad pulled into the small parking lot for the restaurant and found the last spot.

Meanwhile, my mother inquired, “What kind of food is this?”

“Brunch food, Mom. You’ll like it.” The local place was packed, and yet there was Caleb, looking attractive in a light blue polo shirt and khaki shorts holding a table for four on the patio. God bless him. I wasn’t sure my mother could endure an LA wait time.