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Juliette pokes her tongue out at him. “Moving on,” he says wryly, “let’s talk about what we’ve got coming up this week.”
The conversation continues, and we spend the rest of the afternoon working on THOR. But Juliette’s words continue to linger in my mind.
Chapter Twelve
Belle
Sherry comes home around one p.m., and the two of us spend the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen, cooking together. Gaby, Tyson, and Alex are coming around for dinner tonight, so Gaby can go over any last-minute worries about the wedding, and also because we haven’t had a family dinner for a long time.
Together we make a big steak pie and a truckload of mashed potatoes, then we chop some carrots and add frozen green beans to a big pot. Sherry then makes her famous Pavlova while I sit at the breakfast bar, chatting to her as I run a deck of cards through my fingers.
My mother texts me a few times while I’m sitting there. The irony that I’d rather talk to Sherry than text her back doesn’t escape my attention. Sherry was much more of a mother figure to me during my teenage years than my birth mum. Sherry was the one who washed my gym kit and helped me make my packed lunches, who put her arm around me when I cried over boys, and who talked me through friendship hiccups. She was the one who knew the bands I liked and that I preferred to wear black when I wasn’t in school uniform, when my own mother was still sending me pink frills and sequins. Mum might have provided for me financially, but Sherry was there for me physically and emotionally, which I value more than money. Easy to say when you have it, I suppose, but no expensive jacket or purse from L.A. can replace the time I shared with Sherry, when we’d get back from a netball match and spend the afternoon baking cakes in the kitchen while Dad mowed the lawn.
The third time Mum texts, though, I sigh and decide I should respond.
“That your mum?” Sherry asks as she places the freshly cut Kiwi fruit onto the baked meringue.
“Yeah. She wants to see me.”
“That’s fair enough. When?”
“Tomorrow. But in the morning I wanted to go shopping, in the afternoon I’ve got the kids’ party, and then it’s the hen night.”
“You should make time for her,” Sherry says. “She doesn’t come to New Zealand often.”
“Exactly. And she expects me to drop everything and see her, without a thought to what I’m doing.”
“That’s fair, but maybe she needs to see her daughter, sweetheart? It sounds as if she’s been having a tough time.”
“She’s got plenty of therapists if she needs to talk to someone,” I say with a scowl.
“Belle,” Sherry scolds.
I pout, but that makes me think of Damon saying,Don’t tell me, you have a brat kink, and that makes my lips curve up.
“What are you smiling at?” Sherry asks.
“Nothing.” I pinch a bit of Kiwi fruit, trying not to think about the text conversation we had this morning. Well, conversation is pushing it. I know I shouldn’t have done what I did. I couldn’t help it though. His words,My work here is done,and that damn devil emoji, got me all hot and bothered.
Dad comes home around four thirty, and we sit at the kitchen table and talk while Sherry puts the finishing touches to the dinner. She keeps me busy over the next hour, laying the table, folding serviettes, cleaning wine glasses, and sorting out some music to play while we eat. It’s close to six when she finally comes into the dining room and looks over my handiwork.
“Looks great!” She grins. “Well done.” As she walks out, she glances over her shoulder and says, “You’re one place short, though.”
I frown. I’ve laid out six settings: me, Alex, Sherry, Dad, Gaby, and Tyson. “Who else is coming?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer, and I go into the hall as I hear the front door open.
Oh. Of course.
“Hello,” Damon says, stepping to the side to let Alex enter.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, startled.
“Sorry,” Sherry says, joining me in the hall, “I forgot to tell you that I invited Damon. Hello, sweetheart.” She goes up to him and kisses him on the cheek. “Glad you decided to come.”
“I’d never pass on the chance for a piece of your steak pie,” he says. He’s holding a beautiful bunch of autumn flowers in cellophane, and my heart skips a beat as I think that he’s brought them for me, but even as the thought passes through my head, he holds them out to Sherry and says, “Thank you for inviting me.”
