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“Oh no, dear,” she tittered. “I mean your muscles. That button-down is so flattering, dear. It shows all your bestassets.”
I just threw up in my mouth.
“I’m flattered,” I replied. “I hope you’re doing well, but I must go. My parents are waiting for me—” I turned, but she stopped me again.
“Would you be busy this Saturday? There is this corporate gathering at my mansion, and my goddaughter isappallinglysingle. I would like for you to be her date for the night.”
And there it was, the offer I was hoping to avoid.
It felt like I was being pimped out without having an actual pimp.
“I’m sorry, I’ll be busy,” I replied, “My best wishes to your goddaughter, but I must go.”
I moved away before she could sink her claws into me, and I got to my parent’s table and dropped a kiss on my mom’s cheek. “Hello, mom. You’re looking as radiant as ever.”
She smiled. “Such a charmer.”
“Hey, Dad.” I nodded to him while taking the third seat. “How’s it going?”
He looked up, his sharp brown eyes meeting mine. “It’ll go a lot better when you explain to me if you’re canoodling with Mia Sullivan.”
“Canoodling…” Jesus. “There is no canoodling going on, Dad. Besides, who in this century says that word? I assume you heard some rumors, but of all the rumors, they don’t tell you the proper reason. There’s a mealybug infestation in the orchard and in Sullivan’s vineyard, too. We’re only collaborating to make sure everything is done properly.”
“Oh,” Mom inclined her head. “That sounds like a reasonable explanation, doesn’t it, honey?”
“It does,” Dad replied, his gaze still skeptical. “But how did you decide to contact her?”
“I hired a negotiator from Washington DC,” I deadpanned. “You know, one of those hostile war guys who have experience with demilitarized zones and make sure nothing implodes or detonates. He was very good.”
Dad’s lips twitched at my dry humor. “I’d appreciate it if no part of my Meadery goes up in flames.”
“It won’t, not when I am at the helm,” I told him.
“Have you had breakfast?” Mom asked. “If not, go on and order something.”
I’d had half a cup of coffee that morning, but I wouldn’t—couldn’t—tell Mom that, or I’d get an hour-long lecture on how good a proper breakfast was. That was what I got for having a retired nutritionist as a mom. It had been an uphill battle when I told her I was changing to vegan years ago, and I don’t want to repeat that.
I picked up the lunch menu and ordered a Greek Pasta Salad and pomegranate juice and ate it while listening to Mom tell me all about their trip to their cabin and probably a trip to Europe in the winter to see their friends.
Finishing my meal, I sat back and asked, “So, I assume the rumors about Mis Sullivan was all you called me for, here at the den of delusional land?”
“Den of… delusional land?” mom asked.
“Yes,” I shrugged. “Come on, Mom, I know you like the comfort here, but you must’ve realized that your new friends have no touch with reality. Didn’t you tell me one CEO here bought a fleet of BMWs for his kid's school trip? Not hired, he bought them. If that doesn’t scream delusional, I am Santa Claus.”
She laughed. “They do get over the top, I agree, but delusional is a strong word.”
I shook my head. “Well, since that’s all I came here for, I shall be getting back,” standing, I kissed Mom’s cheek again. “We’ll talk later, Dad.”
“Ethan,” Dad warned me, “Don’t underestimate Mia. She might be young, but she is still aSullivan.”
For reasons beyond me, I was irritated. “Dad, don’t you think it’s about time we get rid of this silly feud? I mean, John just had a heart attack, and Mia is not back in the town to continue this silly rift.”
Dad’s brows shot up. “Sullivan had a heart attack?”
Shit.
I shouldn’t have said that.
