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“Exactly.” He rolls his eyes.
“Damon, I raised you better than this. Why’d you just rush off—oh…” A blonde woman turns the corner of the house onto the pathway and comes into view. She has a long gray wool coat belted around her slim waist, slacks, and heels. Beautiful diamond earrings hang off her ears, and her makeup is subtle but perfectly applied. “Adeline?”
I place my hand over my stomach and my cotton dress that I bought at a store she’s probably never been inside in her life. “Hi.”
Damon places his arm around my waist, standing at my side. “Mom, this is Adeline. Adeline, this is my mom, Heather.”
His mom’s smile never falters as I hold out my hand. She shoos it away, wrapping me in a hug. “I’m so happy to meet you.” She pulls back and studies me. “You’re one of the lucky ones, only holding the weight in your belly.” She drops my arms. “Damon had me as big as a house. My legs were swollen, it was horrible.”
I didn’t realize until I got pregnant how many people feel the need to comment on your body and your weight without being asked.
“Jesus Christ, you two.” A man who is the spitting image of Damon but a couple decades older comes around the corner. “We could present as a family.” He wears a button-down shirt tucked into his slacks with a belt and a sweater over it, his long coat open. He’s an attractive man for his age, which probably means Damon will continue to be blessed with his good looks.
“Come meet Adeline.” Heather’s eyes never stray from me, but neither does her welcoming smile.
“Adeline.” He nods and holds out his hand. “I’m Stanley.”
“You can call him Stan,” Heather offers, and I’m pretty sure Stanley growls.
We shake hands.
“Nice to meet you,” he says, and I hope that’s a good sign.
“Please come in.” I step back but fumble on a shoe behind me. Damon is there, catching me before I fall over. “Thanks,” I say, looking up at him.
“Oh, you must be Marge.” Heather breaks the distance and hugs my mom the same way she did me.
“My mom can be a bit much,” Damon whispers.
“She’s very nice.” I shut the door. “Can I take your coat, Mr. Siska?”
“Sure.” He takes his arms out of the coat, but Damon grabs it before I can.
“Mom, coat?” He waits for her.
Heather continues to talk to my mom while taking off her coat. She’s wearing a white silk top with taupe slacks that taper at the ankle. Her high heels make her tower over my mom, but she still looks short compared to her son and husband.
“I’m sorry our other son, Oliver, couldn’t make it, but he said he was sending a gift,” Heather says.
“That my parents probably bought,” Damon whispers in my ear. He hasn’t told me much about his parents or his brother.
After all the introductions are made, Mr. Siska points at the dining room table. “Can we all sit a moment?”
My mom looks at me, and I shrug. We head over to the table, each family standing on either side of the table. I really do feel as if I’m sixteen and pregnant, and our parents are going to tell us exactly how this is going to go.
“Can I get either of you something to drink?” my mom asks.
“I’ll have iced tea, please,” Heather says.
“Do you have some scotch?” Stanley asks.
Both Heather and Damon look at his dad.
“Fine, iced tea is good for me too,” he says.
“No, I’ve got some scotch,” my dad says, going to the locked cabinet in our kitchen. My parents aren’t big drinkers, and if they do, it’s usually beer or wine.
Stanley sits at the end of the table as if he’s the head of the household. He’s intimidating, I’ll give him that. From what I read online, the Siskas are old money. Stanley’s family was big in the steel business, affording them the life they now live.
