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I look up at Karen. “This juice is delicious. What’s in it?”
She sighs. “You don’t want to know. It’s good for you. That’s all you need to know.”
I chuckle. “Thanks, Karen.”
I can’t remember the last time I was able to sit on Saturday morning and simply read the news and enjoy my juice. Probably when my mother last visited.
At some point, Mom walks into the kitchen without Andie. “She’s grown so much since I was lasthere. She’s so articulate. Her mind is always working on overdrive, asking a million questions.”
“She’s amazing, Mom. So smart. I’m blown away by her every single day.”
Mom rubs my head like I’m a child. “You’re a good man, Beckett. You’re such a good father. I’m not sure how that’s possible, given the one you had, but I’m so proud of you. Speaking of which, have you seen your biological father and the child he’s dating?”
I let out a laugh. “Hiswifeis my age. And I don’t see them outside of our monthly dinner, despite only living fifteen minutes away.” We have dinner together and then Andie sleeps over there. It’s the only time each month my father sees her. He never remotely considers seeing her in between visits. It strikes me as odd, but I won’t beg him to spend more time with her. He was a hands-off father and is mostly a hands-off grandfather.
I see a small smile creep up on her lips. My parents have been divorced since I was a preteen. I don’t know why they ever got married. My mother is warm and loving. My father is anything but.
He wanted me to follow in his footsteps and go to law school. His head just about exploded when I dropped out of college to start my company. Even though I am incredibly successful, it somehow still bothers him that I’m not a lawyer like him. The fact that I’ve been a stay-at-home dad for five years has put a strain on our relationship. He doesn’t understand it. He considers me less of a man for it.
Mom looks over at Karen, who’s chopping and preparing our lunch. “Oh, Karen, that looks delicious. It smells good too.”
Karen smiles. “It will be ready soon, Mrs. Windsor.”
“Karen, you’ve been here for a decade. As I’ve told you before, call me Glinda.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mom shakes her head and sits at the table. “Beckett, darling, tell me about the woman you’re dating.”
Crap. I was hoping she’d forgotten that fabricated story. I see Karen subtly moving closer so she can listen. I lift my eyebrow at her, and she silently giggles before moving back to her food prep.
I look at Mom. “What do you want to know?”
“What’s her name?”
I blurt out the first name that comes to my mind. The one that’s often on my mind. “Amanda.”
“Amanda who?”
Once again, I blurt the first name that comes to me. “Amanda Tremaine.”
“Another French girl. Tell me about her.”
“She’s a talented artist.”
“How long have you been dating?”
“A few months.” I’m going to hell for this.
“Tell me more. I want details. I don’t know why you haven’t mentioned her until just the other day.”
Mercifully, my cell phone rings, and I see that it’s Nico. He’s hanging outside at the front gate of my property today with my security personnel. A delivery person must be here and he’s asking if he should send them down to the house.
I accept the call and put it on speaker phone. “Hey, Nico. What’s up?”
Mom whispers, “Tell Nico to come down to the house to have lunch with us.”
I shoo her away.
