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Maeve kisses me first. In the parking lot of the Glenmont football stadium. With most of the town watching. Wearing my jersey.
And it feels better than winning the game.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
MAEVE
“Idon’t really think the coffee table needs to be wipedagain, Mom. It’s not the President coming to visit, it’s just my arch nemesis,” Liam remarks caustically from his spot on the coach.
I peek back from my spot in the armchair by the window to watch our mother give him a sharp glance.
“I know you’re not thrilled about who our dinner guest is this evening, but you will not like the consequences if you are anything less than polite tonight, Liam. Understand? Football aside, this boy is important to your sister, and he is welcome in this house.”
Liam grumbles something under his breath that I doubt is an agreement.
After the game last night, Wes went off to celebrate with his teammates. He offered to skip it or have me come, but I wanted him to have his moment. Plus, I had two unpleasant conversations waiting for me at home. Liam didn’t say much when I told him I’ve gotten back together with Wes. My father was even more inscrutable. My mother said she’s happy for me.
This morning, I woke up to a loud argument. The gist? My mother wanted to invite Wes over for dinner. My father was less than enthused about the idea.
I entered the kitchen just in time for my mother to tell my father that “our daughter’s happiness is more important that a grudge” and to tell me to invite “Weston over at six.” I expected Wes to have some ambivalence about the idea, but he accepted the invitation immediately.
Wes’s Range Rover pulls into my driveway, and I leap up from the armchair I’ve been perched in for the last hour, even though it’s only just six now.
The grandfather clock next to the fireplace chimes, and Liam rolls his eyes. “He’s probably been parked around the block, waiting to pull up exactly at six.”
“You’re annoyed he’s on time? Seriously, Liam?” I question as I head over to the front door.
I open it as soon as I hear his steps on the stairs, and Wes gives me a smile that makes my stomach flutter. He looks at ease, but he’s dressed up somewhat. Aside from when he picked me up from Chase’s and his birthday, I’ve only ever seen him in athletic apparel. Tonight, he’s wearing a pair of dark wash jeans and a gray sweater that hugs his muscular chest. He’s clutching a bunch of flowers.
“Hey,” he greets, leaning in and giving me a kiss.
“Hi,” I reply, beaming up at him. I know I have a dopey grin on my face, but I don’t bother to hide it. This moment feels surreal, and I’m determined to enjoy it.
“You must be Weston,” my mother says, appearing in the front hallway.
I step aside and shut the front door so she can greet him.
“Yes, I am. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Stevens,” Wes replies. “These are for you.” He holds out the bouquet.
“Thank you, these are lovely!” my mother exclaims. Unlike my father and Liam, this is the first time she’s ever seen Wes in person, up close at least. I can tell she’s taken aback by how good looking he is.
Liam comes and hovers in the open doorway between the front hallway and the living room.
“Hi, Liam,” Wes greets graciously.
“Weston,” Liam grits out in a much less amicable tone. I send him a glare, and my mother does the same.
“I’m going out to help Dad with the grill,” Liam announces.
Despite the chilly temperatures outside, my father decided to grill the chicken for dinner. I know it had a lot less to do with his claim it tastes better, and a lot more to do with the fact it means he can escape outside.
“I should put these in some water,” my mother says before heading into the kitchen, flowers in hand.
“This your attempt at a Van Gogh?” Wes asks me as she disappears, peering at the framed painting of a star-filled sky on the wall.
“What gave it away?” I ask wryly. “Does it not look like the original?”
“It looks like a fresh take on it,” Wes offers with a dimpled smile.
