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“Sounds like my kinda book club.” She winked at me. “Mason, I know I told you to make friends, but are pensioners really your target audience? Unless you’re on the hunt for a sugar mama, in which case, go ahead. I won’t judge you.”
He sighed the same way an older brother would sigh at his annoying little sister. “I’m being a good neighbor, Francesca. You should try it sometimes.”
“It’s not my fault Janice Keegan’s ivy keeps growing into my yard. I’ve told her before to prune it before I do. I give her two weeks’ notice before I go out there. That’s more than reasonable.”
“Yeah, sounds it.”
“Shut up, Mason, or I’ll tell Matt you’re happy with your pensioner friends, and he won’t take you out next weekend.” She punched him in the arm, and I couldn’t help but smile when she winked at me.
I had their relationship down to a tee—despite sharing Maya, they really were like brother and sister. Had they been like that since they broke up, or was it something that had developed over time?
Oh, my God. Why did I care? It wasn’t like the kind of relationship they had was any of my business. It wasn’t going to affect my life. I didn’t need to know.
Yet, I did. I wanted to know. What had their romantic relationship been like to end up like this? Were they really just the kind of people who were better off as friends? Most people who broke up after a child fought all the time, but they seemed to be as close as friends could be.
God. I needed a new hobby. Something that didn’t involve being anywhere near Mason, for a start.
I sat down with them both at the island and listened as Fran told us about their trip to the Maldives. Talk quickly moved to her upcoming wedding and the issues she was having with her future mother-in-law that Matt was now apparently going to sort out.
We talked until we’d all finished our cheesecake and Maya was ready to go. Mason rounded up her things, and after a long explanation about why Dolly couldn’t go with her—Matt was allergic to dogs—she finally said goodbye, even rushing to hug me. I promised I’d give “Mrs. Jen” a hug for her when I went home, and she happily skipped out to the car with a big wave.
Fran said goodbye to us both, and Mason went outside to say goodbye to Maya properly.
I waited awkwardly in the kitchen until Fran’s car had disappeared down the road.
“So, book club,” he said. “I’m really going?”
“You said you were, didn’t you?” I raised an eyebrow. “If I go over there and tell Grandma and you don’t show up, she’s gonna come over here and drag you there.”
He blew out a long breath. “And you’re gonna do that anyway, aren’t you?”
“You bet your ass I am.”
“Fine. What time? Shall I bring Jack Daniels?”
“Seven-thirty, like I said. And if you bring Jack, I’ll beat you with the bottle. They already smuggle their contraband in like it’s the Twenties and it’s illegal.”
“You don’t let them drink?”
“I ration their drinking. Unless you’d like to supervise and then escort them to Main Street so they can flash their bloomers at everyone.”
He paused. “You know what? I think I’ll leave the alcohol here.”
I smiled. “You’re smarter than you look.”
“I take offense at that.”
“Good,” I said, walking toward the front door. “It wasn’t exactly an entire compliment.”
“You’re a pain in the ass, Imogen.”
“Yeah, well, look out for knitting needles, then.”
***
“Don’t sit there,” Lillian instructed Evelyn before she could sit on the chair I’d set up especially for Mason.
Evelyn looked down at the chair. “Why? Will it bite? I might like that.”
“Immy has a knitting needle hidden in it,” Kathleen answered, looking up from where she was tapping at her phone screen with one wrinkled finger. “She’s going to poke Mason in the ass. He’s the guy next door. He’s coming for book club.”
“I’d like to poke him in the ass,” Lillian trilled. “It’s a nice one.”
I tucked my feet beneath my butt on my corner of the sofa and smiled into my wine glass.
Mason had no idea what was heading his way this evening with these crazy old ladies, and I was going to enjoy every last second of it.
It was about time I enjoyed a book club.
“I hear you met his baby mama,” Evelyn said, sitting on the wicker chair.
“Please don’t ever use the phrase ‘baby mama’ again,” I replied. “You’re sixty years too old to even attempt to sound right using it.”
She scrunched up her nose. “It did feel a little strange to say.”
Both Lil and Kathleen nodded slowly.
“Cake!” Grandma announced, bringing in a huge chocolate cake that smelled strongly of Jack Daniels and had a giant flamingo as a decoration. “Ta-da!”
