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She’s right. I’m not much of a cat person, but I couldn’t ask her to return him to the animal shelter. Scooby came from a good place. I only wish she’d chosen something that needed less upkeep—like, say, agoldfish.
“You seem to enjoy spending time with your grandcat,” I reply. “I’m doing you a favor by traveling sofrequently.”
She lifts her chin. “When are you going to move home, find a good man, and settle down? Stella is doing it. Maybe you should follow herexample.”
Here we goagain.
This is why the majority of my visits with her are when she’s Scooby-sitting.
“Men and I aren’t on the same page right now.”I have a feeling we’ll neverbe.
“If you’d quit looking in all the wrong places, they’d be. Come to church with me tomorrow, honey. They expanded, and traffic is booming! God-loving young men are scouring the place for a good wife to start a familywith.”
I can’t stop myself from scowling. “Men scouring the place for a wife? Not my type, Mom. That sounds not only desperate, but also scary.” I’m sure those men wouldn’t approve of me carrying someone else’s baby out ofwedlock.
I drag my phone from my pocket when it beeps. I turned it back on when my plane landed but have yet to reply to the seventy-eight text messages from every citizen in BlueBeech.
Dallas: You make it to your mom’sokay?
I set my phone to the side, ignoring it, and then pluck it back up. His threat wasn’t empty, and the last thing I need is him showing uphere.
Me: Just got here. Talking toher.
Dallas: You break the newsyet?
Me: I need to loosen her up with a glass of winefirst.
Dallas: Goodluck.
Me: I should be the one telling you good luck. She’ll probably take it better than yourparents.
Dallas: I haven’t told them yet. I’m waiting for you to be here. Consider your mompractice.
Me: Nothappening.
He’s eating bath salts if he thinks I’ll be attending that shitshow. Dallas’s family is as traditional as it gets. They’re nice people, don’t get me wrong, but super oldschool.
Dallas: We’ll talk aboutit.
We’ll talk aboutit?
The hell kind of answer isthat?
I toss my phone onto the pillow next to me on the couch. “How about we go to dinner at La Vistatonight?”
* * *
My planof liquoring my mom up, so I could spill the beans wasn’t as bright as I’d thought it was an hourago.
She wisps her hair, the same color as mine, away from her eyes to better stare at me. She’s been eyeballing me since our drink order was placed five minutes ago. I’m doing my best to avoid direct eye contact with her, scared she’ll read mymind.
The restaurant is packed. It always is on Saturday nights, given it’s the nicest place in our suburb. A few of my mom’s friends stopped to talk to us while we waited for our table, their eyes scrutinizing and judging me for the wrongs my ex-boyfriend did to a young kid who was the star of his little league baseballteam.
“I take it, you have something to tell me,” shesays.
A knot ties in my belly. “Huh?”
“You’ve been nervous since you got home today. You then bring me to La Vista and order a glass of wine for me before the waiter even got the chance to introduce himself. You bring me here whenever you have news you don’t want to break tome.”
