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“You’ve spent the past fifteen years hating theideaof me. And after spending the past week sleeping with me, I think we’ve moved to at least a base level of friendship. I’m not saying we spend the night doing each other’s hair and watching rom-coms, but dinner seems reasonable.”
She burst out laughing. A genuine laugh this time. It felt as if Drew had scored his biggest win since he’d arrived in Austin.
“So?” he asked.
“I can’t have dinner with you tonight,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because I’m having dinner with my mom and stepmom tonight.”
He wanted to believe her. Honestly, she had no reason to lie to him. It wasn’t as if she would try to spare his feelings.
“What about tomorrow night?”
She sat back in her chair and folded her hands over her stomach, regarding him with cool but intense scrutiny.
“Maybe. If my schedule allows it,” she finally answered. “But even if I do agree to have dinner with you, I am still not your friend, Drew Sullivan.”
He grinned. “Yet.”
15
Come on, come on, come on,” London muttered under her breath as she glanced in her rearview mirror, looking for an opening so that she could move into the right lane. Austin traffic was always a bitch, but evening rush hour was a special kind of pain in the ass.
That’s what she got for canceling on her mother and stepmom for the past month. Their weekends were now all booked up—because they both had more interesting lives than she did—and a weeknight was the best either could do. London had come close to suggesting they just skip their monthly dinner altogether, but she was in no mood for the backlash that would cause. She heard enough shrieks of “you work too hard” and “we never see you” already; the last thing she needed to give The Mothers was more ammunition for their argument that she was a workaholic.
Besides, she was intrigued by the sense of urgency she’d gleaned from their multiple text messages today, reminding her at least a half-dozen times about tonight’s dinner. She’d inquired about her dad, wondering if he’d had another TIA, but April had assured her that Kenneth was doing fine.
She quickly took the exit for Bluff Springs, grateful to get out of the traffic snarl. But one quick glance around as she pulled up to an intersection reminded her that she was now smack dab in the middle of Suburban Hell.
Someone could offer her a million dollars for the Craftsman-style bungalow she owned in Hyde Park—in fact, multiple peoplehadoffered her well over a million for it—but there was no way London would leave her charming little neighborhood. Not if this tan-colored, strip mall–laden existence was the alternative.
Her mother adored the cookie-cutter house she’d bought several years ago in a planned development just south of the city. And despite the fact that London would get lost if she didn’t know the house number—because there were only three home designs in the development, and they repeated over and over again—she was happy that her mom was happy. Having London’s stepmother, April, nearby also helped.
She always got strange looks whenever she told people that her mother, Janette, and her father’s current wife were best friends.
No, they didn’t grow up together. No, April didn’t steal London’s dad from her mother. Kenneth Kelley had gone through three wives between the time her parents divorced and his latest—and, hopefully, please, God, last—marriage. Her mother and April had hit it off from the very beginning, despite April’s being ten years younger. And her ex-husband’s new wife.
Her family was strange. There was no other way to describe them.
London pulled into the parking lot of the chain restaurant—another aspect of suburban life she could do without—and spotted her mom and stepmom walking up to the restaurant entrance. She blew her horn to get their attention, and pointed to an empty parking spot a few yards away.
Of course, a Prius swooped into the spot before she could get it. Because that’s just how her luck rolled these days.
She circled the steakhouse a couple of times before finding a spot, then quickly made it inside to where her mother and April were waiting. Hugs were dispensed, and the obligatory “skipping meals again?” and “are you getting enough sleep?” questions were asked.
London answered with yes and no, because why lie?
She gestured for them to go ahead of her as they were ushered to a table, but moments after they were seated and served glasses of water, she noticed something was off. The Mothers both had pensive looks on their faces.
“What?” she asked, setting her menu on the table.
Her mother looked to April. “Do you want to tell her?”
Panic immediately seized the air in London’s lungs. “What’s going on?” she asked. “You said Kenneth is doing okay, so who’s sick? Is it you?” she directed at April. “You?” she turned to her mother.
“No one’s sick. It’s not anything like that,” her mom said.
