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He pulls me closer. “Any time with you is a good time.” He whirls me so I’m skating backward in front of him, his hands on my waist. “Has your mother called you yet about meeting me?”
“You really want to ruin my night, don’t you?” I wait for him to say something, but he simply watches me and waits. I sigh. “Fine. She called yesterday and asked if we could come tomorrow.” She’s actually been bugging me all week, but I’ve been trying to forget she’s asked every time we talk.
“To Charlotte?”
“That’s where they live.”
A slow smile rises on his face. “Hon, tell her we’ll go.”
“No. You are taking way too much pleasure in hoping they’ll say the wrong thing so you can go off on them. Let me make it clear, Brent, I don’t want you to do that. It won’t help and it’ll probably make it worse. If we go, you have to promise to keep your mouth shut.”
“I can’t do that,” he says immediately in that stupid tone that tells me he won’t change his mind even if I argue until I’m blue in the face.
“Brent,” I protest anyway.
“I said I’d have your back and I wouldn’t let anyone talk out of the way to you, especially about us; that includes your parents. We’re going because you know doing that means your mother won’t bug you and you also know I would never be disrespectful to your parents.”
I don’t have an argument for that, so I turn around. The whole thought of my parents meeting Brent gives
me a bad feeling. The kind of bad feeling I get when I know I’ll be seeing my parents. Brent pulls me backward until my back is flush with his front. He kisses my neck softly and squeezes his hold on my waist.
“You trust me, don’t you?”
“Yes, but it’s not you I’m worried about.” Well, I am a little, but not really. I know Brent will keep his word.
Brent releases his hold on me and comes to skate next to me. “You know what? It’s your parents and your decision. Don’t let me pressure you. If you really don’t want to go, tell her that. If you do, then we’ll go.”
I nod. We skate around for a bit. He holds my hands while I dance in front of him, a smile permanently on his face as he watches me. I fake a pout as he releases one of my hands to reach into his back pocket for his phone.
“Hello?” he answers. Whatever he hears causes him to frown and drag me off the rink. “Okay, son. Text me the address and I’ll be there shortly.” He pauses and sits on the bench along the wall, his phone pressed against his ear and held in place by his shoulder as he begins to take off his skates. “I know. I’m glad you called. Text me the address and stay put. Love you too.” He hangs up and looks up at me. “Honey, I have to go pick up Gregory.”
“Is everything okay?”
“He went to a party tonight and drank a few beers. I’ve told him not to get behind the wheel if he even had a sip, so he’s called me to pick him up.” He fiddles with his phone as he says, “You can come with me or stay here with your friends and come to the house later.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“Then hurry up and get your skates off.”
“Yes, boss,” I mutter. He’s in a totally different mood after that call from Gregory. He’s likely worried, which is understandable, and probably upset with Gregory for drinking in the first place. He’s only sixteen.
Erin and Matt skate over as I’m getting my shoes on and Brent is returning our skates. “What’s going on? Are y’all leaving?” she asks.
“Yeah. Something came up with Brent’s son.”
“Do you need us to drive you?” Matt asks.
“I’ve got it covered, but thanks,” Brent says as he returns. “You ready, Jamie?”
“Yes.” I stand and take his hand. “I’ll see y’all later.”
When we walk outside, it turns out Brent was arranging for a car to come pick us up when he was fiddling with his phone. He’s quiet throughout the ride and it’s in such a way that I feel as if I shouldn’t break the silence. I decide now is the perfect time to text my mother and ask her when we’re having dinner tomorrow. After about thirty minutes, we arrive at a house full of cars and find Gregory leaning against the hood of his car.
“Dad,” he starts.
“Give me the keys and get in,” Brent quickly interrupts.
Gregory hands over the keys and gets in the backseat while Brent opens the passenger door for me. I watch him briskly walk around the front to get behind the wheel. Things are quiet long enough for Brent to get us on the road.
