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“I’m good, thank you. And again, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention and ran into you. I should’ve been more aware of my surroundings.”
I squeeze her shoulder, hoping she gets my hint to cut it out.
“It’s okay. You should be careful, though. Not everyone would be as understanding as me,” my mom says.
I snort and cover it up with a cough.
“Your father told me he invited you to dinner. I hope to get a response soon so I can make some plans.” She looks at me pointedly.
“Of course. We need to get going.” I smile at my mom. It’s forced and polite and not at all warm. “We’ll be in touch.”
She nods and says goodbye to Sage before walking away.
“Oh, my goodness. I can’t believe I ran into her.” Sage covers her face.
Laughing, I remove her hands from her face.
“It’s okay. She didn’t seem to mind, ironically.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that Nicole Remington isn’t one to brush off a nuisance like someone crashing into her on the street. I think she really did like you.” I look up at the blue sky in confusion.
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“I hope so. Let’s go to the grocery store and get you what you need.”
The fact that my parents seem to be enthralled by Sage is more confusing than a calculus problem. I don’t know what to make of it. Are they testing us? Or are they finally seeing that they need to relax and accept people more easily? Unlikely.
10
Sage
Tristan is a box full of surprises. He’s funny, charming, compassionate, and kind.
I expected a different response when I told him about my lupus. Instead, he showed concern and sympathy when I told him it hasn’t been easy to keep people around once they hear about it.
“When are you free for dinner with my parents? I need to respond to my dad.” He looks over at me as he pushes the cart around the grocery store.
I grab a few apples and put them in a small produce bag.
“I work every day until six this week, and any evening after that will work for me.”
“That works. How about I pick you up at seven? Give you some time to wind down after work?” His thoughtfulness is sweet.
“Of course.”
Tristan wears this cool and flirty exterior, which can easily be confused for someone who cares more about himself, but he’s so much more than that.
“Great. I’m going to do some shopping as well.”
“Okay,” I laugh. That was a random announcement.
We walk around the grocery store, grabbing things we need and throwing them into the cart. Tristan grabs a funky hat in the kids’ section and puts it on, dancing around. He looks like an angry chick.
“Stop it,” I laugh, holding my side.
“You think I should wear this to dinner?” He takes it off and bows before putting it back on.
