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Yeah. No. Somehow I don't think I want to have this reunion with my dad, his girlfriend, and her judgmental cat bearing witness. I shake my head.
He smiles. "Mine then."
At this point in the conversation, I should probably say 'no' to his proclamation.
We could — and probably should— have this conversation somewhere public considering what happens between us when we are too close for polite company.
But do I say something?
Nope.
What I do is nod, keeping my mouth shut as my mind swims into more doubts and questions that I could count. Before I know what's going on, we're out of Belle's building and walking to this downright freakishly huge white truck, my hand held in Phillip's.
And then without the slightest sane objection, I'm climbing up, my short fluffy ass needing more than the average assist from my big, handsome hero as I do, thanks to the gauzy, cumbersome —albeit beautiful— princess gown that I'm wearing.
Phillip makes sure I'm comfortably seated. He carefully buckles my belt and then after the softest, sweetest kiss on my lips, he walks around the truck and gets behind the wheel. He starts the car and turns to look at me.
"Okay, clearly we got our facts mixed up here."
I nod. "You said you called me after that night?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "Not called. Texted. I was told you didn't want to be contacted any other way."
"You were told?" I ask, befuddled.
"By your mom."
I do a double take at his words. "What mom? I don't have one," I mumble incredulously.
Phillip hits the steering wheel. "What?"
I sigh. "My mom's been dead since I was two, Phillip."
"Fuck," he murmurs. "I'm so sorry, baby."
I shrug. "You didn't know."
"Still sucks."
Yeah, it does. I look out the window as the first flurries of snow start to come down in billowing, glittering white chains. "How did you know?"
"How did I know what, little doll?"
My belly bursts into a thousand crazy fuzzy butterflies whenever he calls me that, and for a moment I lose my train of thought.
Focus, girl.
"That she was my mom? I'm thinking you met her at my dad's house."
He nods once.
"So did you assume she was my mother because she was there or did she actually say she was my mom?"
"Option number two."
"Unbelievable."
"Tell me about it." Phillip glides a hand over his face and then rakes it through his short wavy hair.
