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She tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “I’m okay. Chicago is great.” An awkward moment of silence passed. “I need to tell you something.”
“What?”
“I’m… I’m—”
“Dinner’s ready.” Mrs. Evans announced.
Lance rubbed at his chin. He could get through dinner. He didn’t want to disappoint her mother.
He walked past Chantelle and met the rest of her family at the dining room table. He chose the seat next to Grant, making a mental note to talk to his friend later. Chantelle sat across from him, her chair scraping the floor as she scooted closer to the table. Lance grabbed a glass of water, hoping the cool liquid would ease his upset stomach.
“Help yourselves.” Mrs. Evans then opened her hands, palms up, and the rest of the family joined hands. Once they said grace, they served their plates.
“Douglas working late again?” Elise asked.
“Yes, but he should be here soon,” Mrs. Evans said.
Grant cleared his throat. “It’s good to have you home, sis.”
“I’m so happy you’re back again, sweetie.” Her mother’s smile beamed.
Chantelle smiled, but it appeared forced. “Me too. You told me to always come home, right?”
Her mother nodded. “You got that right. Never forget where you come from.”
Lance ate in silence. He didn’t care to ask her questions. He only wanted to eat dinner and get out. Thank goodness Mrs. Evans’ cooking didn’t disappoint.
“So Lance, how’s Andrea?” Elise asked. “I can’t believe Delta Heights is hosting a celebrity wedding.”
He swallowed. “She’s doing well. Working hard.”
“As long as you got the tux, that’s all that matters,” Grant said.
Elise cocked her head towards him. “Ever think she may want him involved in the wedding plans?”
“We don’t care, Babe. I didn’t care about flower choices and the cake.”
Her mouth dropped open, but her grin gave her away. “So... why did I cave in so our wedding cake could be chocolate?”
Grant shrugged. “I wanted chocolate.”
Elise looked at Chantelle. “Get your brother.”
She giggled. “He’s your husband.” Then her attention turned to Lance. “Lance, um... how’s work?”
“Busy. You?” he asked.
“Same.” Chantelle wiped her hands with her napkin. “Actually, I wanted to say—”
His cell rang in his pocket. He lifted a finger to her. “Hold that thought.” If he didn’t answer his mother, she would leave a trail of voicemails. He excused himself from the table and entered the living room close to the foyer. “Hello?”
“I need you here at the bakery. We need your choice of cake. I’ve already called Andrea, and she wants you to make the ultimate choice.”
“Mom, I’m at dinner.”
“With whom?”
“With the Woods family. You know I still—”
