Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ABBY
“ W asn’t that nice of Abby to come make us dinner?”
Mom taps Dad’s arm, getting his attention.
“Oh, yes. Very nice,” he says agreeably, though I’m not sure he knows what he’s agreeing to.
“I’ll clean up,” I say, grabbing my empty plate. “You guys can relax in the living room.”
“Nonsense,” Mom says. “You cooked, so I’ll clean. I’m sure you and Dad can find something you both want to watch on TV.”
“I’d rather clean.”
Mom falters from where she was gathering Dad’s silverware and napkin, glancing over at me with concern. She rubs at the spot on her chest over her heart, as if she has heartburn.
I guess I said that a little forcefully.
“How about I set your father up out there, then we can both clean up?”
I nod, not wanting to argue about it, and continue collecting the dirty plates off the table, bringing them over to the sink. Mom doesn’t believe dishwashers fully clean the dishes, so everything in her house is washed by hand.
I scrape the stuck-on food into the trash, trying to focus on the action rather than the looming time. Only an hour now until I’m supposed to meet everyone at Harry’s Bar tonight.
And I still have no idea what to say to Grayson.
He’d texted earlier asking what I was up to, and I told him I was busy. Which was technically not a lie. But busy with things that weren’t time sensitive. I deep cleaned my house. Finished up the last of the origami for the wedding favor boxes I’m putting together for Harper as my wedding gift to her, including personalized calligraphy for each guest. Then came over to my parents’ house and deep cleaned over here, too.
To be fair, they needed it. Mom can’t keep up with the cleaning here, not with her health and usually needing to keep an eye on Dad, too. She won’t admit she can’t do as much as she used to.
I plug the drain in the sink and turn on the hot water, squeezing a glob of dish soap in to bubble up. The last few days spending time with Grayson have been a break from reality. A chance to pretend I’m someone I’m not. I wanted him to see me as fun, flirty Abby. Not Abby who has to take care of her aging parents. Abby who feels guilty for thinking of them as a burden sometimes, even though she loves them and they’re the only family she has in the world.
That’s not sexy. That’s not who he wants.
God, I still can’t believe how far I’d gone last night before we were interrupted, how in the moment I was. And, as crazy as it seems, that he might have been, too. I swear there’d been interest in his gaze as he’d looked at me in my lingerie.
What would he have said if my phone hadn’t rung?
“Turn the water off, dear.”
I startle, glancing down to find the sink nearly overflowing. I turn off the tap and gather the silverware to soak in the hot water and soap.
Mom edges in next to me, handing me a dish rag. “How are you? You don’t seem quite yourself.”
“I’m fine,” I murmur.
“Abby.”
Her chiding tone makes my insides twist with guilt for lying. One of the best and worst things about being an only child is that all of your parents’ attention is on you.
“Does it have anything to do with Grayson?” she asks, undeterred.
I drop the fork I was washing back into the sudsy water.
“So it does.”
I laugh, unable to help myself. If I don’t, I might cry.
“Can’t tell you how surprised I was that he showed up here last night with you. At nearly ten o’clock at night.”
How scandalous. “We needed his help to get Dad up.”
Looking back on it now, thank God he’d offered to come. Mom would have strained her back trying to help me lift him.
“He said you were working on something for the wedding?”
“Mm-hmm,” I say noncommittally, not wanting to contradict anything he told her. And especially not tell her what we were actually doing.
“How has it been seeing him again?”
“Fine.” When is she going to drop this topic already?
She hesitates as she takes a plate from me to rinse. “I… I know how you used to feel about him. In high school.”
My fingers slip on the dish I’m holding, but I don’t drop it. “What do you mean?”
“That you had a crush on him.”
I glance over at her, pink staining her cheeks. I inherited my easy blushing from her.
“W-what?” I stammer. I’ve never talked to my mom about my love life before. Or, rather, lack of one.
She mumbles something, but I don’t catch it, and ask her to repeat it.
She sighs in exasperation. “I found your diary, okay?”
“My diary?” I echo, shock radiating through me. Mom isn’t the type to snoop.
“I wasn’t searching for it,” she says, almost pleading, rubbing at her chest absentmindedly. “I just came across it. Under your mattress.”
Wow, apparently my very original hiding spot wasn’t so secret.
“But not when you were in high school,” she amends. “It was once you had left for college. I didn’t want the bedsheets to get dusty, so I was changing them, and I found the diary.”
I hand her another plate to rinse, not sure what to do with this information. “I forgot to pack it. I think I came and got it during that first Christmas break.”
She nods. “I saw it was gone later. And I’m sorry. The house was so empty once you left and I missed you. When I found it, I guess I wanted to feel close to you again. To know your thoughts and feelings, even if they were from years ago.”
I try to hold on to anger at the violation of my privacy, but can’t. Mom doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. She wasn’t trying to spy.
“I barely remember what I wrote in there.” What kind of teenage fantasies did I spin in that thing?
“Well, as far as Grayson was concerned, how cute you thought he was. How you liked that he helped his family. That he was athletic and smart in school.”
Heat flushes my face. This is mortifying. Even if I still think all those things about him.
“But you also seemed upset that he never noticed you. Did you try to get him to notice you?”
I scrub the casserole dish in my hands extra hard, trying to get the baked-on gunk off. “No,” I finally say. “I didn’t do anything. Just… waited in the background.”
That about sums up my life. Waiting for something to happen.
Like I told Grayson yesterday, though, I’m stepping out of my comfort zone this week. Otherwise, nothing will ever change.
“Do you still feel the same way about him?” she asks quietly.
I waver, unsure whether to admit it to her. To put it out into the universe like that, where it means something. I can’t take it back if I do.
When I’d told Harper about it last year, it had felt low-stakes. I thought I’d never see her again. Thankfully, she’s kept the secret, but telling my mom is different. Like it makes it real .
Don’t I want it to be real, though?
“Yes,” I finally say. “I still like him.”
I’m stunned at the relief that flows through me, as if a weight released that I didn’t know was holding me down.
“But he lives in Seattle.”
Her comment crashes down on me, weighting me again. Like I need the reminder when it’s something I’m specifically not thinking about .
“I know. It’s not like anything’s going to come of it, anyway.”
Could it have last night? If we hadn’t been interrupted?
“I just don’t want you to get hurt. The way you seemed upset in the diary.”
“I’m fine, Mom. Really.”
I hand her the last dish to rinse off, then drain the sink. Grayson and I aren’t anything, I remind myself. I can’t get hurt because there’s nothing there.
And if I want that to change, it’s up to me.
“Abby, you came!”
Harper is all smiles as she hugs me, some kind of half-empty cocktail in her hands already.
“Of course,” I tell her, squeezing her in return. “It’s your wedding week.”
She leans back and beams at me. “Well, thank you. I know this isn’t normally your scene.” She takes a sip of her drink. “But I got Harry to agree to make some different mocktails for you.”
A blush works its way to my cheeks. As if I’m some underage girl who can’t drink. I don’t see how everyone enjoys the taste of alcohol. It’s disgusting.
“Everything’s on me and Owen at the bar for our group,” Harper continues blithely. “So get whatever you want.”
“Drinks are on you?” a woman asks. I glance over at Ruth Cooper, our town’s token busybody. This woman’s got her nose so far up everyone else’s ass, it’s a wonder she can see her own.
Harper wags a finger at her good-naturedly. “Just for the wedding party. But we’ll have an open bar on Saturday, so you can drink your heart out then.”
Ruth harrumphs but doesn’t comment as she grabs her beer from Harry and disappears back into the crowd.
“You invited Ruth to the wedding?”
Harper sighs. “How could I not? I’d never hear the end of it, otherwise.”
That’s true.
“Hey, do you know where the bathrooms—” Elena cuts off mid-sentence when she notices me. “Oh, hey, Abby.”
“They’re over there,” Harper says distractedly, pointing to the far wall. “Oh my God, Greg is talking to Kelly. He better not be hitting on her.”
She leaves to go intervene in whatever is happening across the bar, and Elena and I stand there awkwardly.
“Congrats on winning game night,” she says, smiling at me.
The sudden tension in my shoulders eases slightly. All I can remember is going all possessive with her yesterday about Grayson, wrapping my arm around him and telling her I’d take him home, not her. She must think I’m nuts.
“Thanks. I think it’s supposed to be one of those things where everyone wins because we had fun.”
She laughs lightly. “Yeah, you’re right. And, um, I didn’t mean to step on any toes about Grayson. Kristen mentioned you two weren’t really dating, that it was so their mom thought he had a date.”
My shoulders deflate. Wonderful. One fewer person we have to keep up the act for. Which, in my case, is bad.
“No, I’m sorry. I went kind of psycho girlfriend on you there, didn’t I?”
Her eyes crinkle at the corners as she smiles. “Oh, that was nothing. I almost got punched at a bar once by a girl who was convinced I was hitting on her man. I only asked if they were using the spare chair at their table.”
I wince. “Well, we’re not that crazy in Crescent Pass. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t…” I swallow hard. “Well, if you didn’t set your sights on Grayson.”
She studies me in that same way Harper does, as if she can divine all my secrets. How do the two of them do that? “You like him?”
I nod hesitantly, not sure what compels me to reveal that. Maybe because I did the same with Mom earlier. Maybe it’s time to stop living in the shadows.
“But Kristen doesn’t know,” I blurt out. “Or Grayson.”
She mimes zipping her lips. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Thanks.” Of course Elena’s nice. She’s one of Harper’s best friends. “Actually, um, do you have any advice for me?”
Her brows pop up. “Oh my God, I love playing matchmaker. Give me all the backstory between you two.”
She orders a Moscow Mule and sips at it as I tell her what I can, not that the story is long.
“Okay, so childhood sort-of friends and you want him to see you in a new way,” she sums up. “Also, he doesn’t live here, so that’s an added factor. And he’s your best friend’s older brother.”
I nod, a wave of guilt swamping me. What would Kristen think if she overheard this?
“Are you flirting with him?”
“I did last night.”
She squints at me. “Does he know it’s flirting?”
My stomach drops. Am I that obvious? “I’m not the best at it.” As in, I don’t know how to do it at all.
She nods decisively. “We need shots. To loosen you up a little.”
I open my mouth to tell her I don’t drink, but really, what do I have to lose? Maybe this will push me past a barrier that’s been holding me back.
She gets Harry’s attention. “Three Kamikazes.” She looks back at me and drains the rest of her cocktail. “I’m a sucker for vodka and lime.”
“You want me to take three shots?” That seems like a terrible idea.
“One for me, two for you. Trust me.”
Okay…
Harry lines them up on the counter for us.
“One right after the other,” she says, sliding her shot in front of her.
I eye my two. “I’m not a fan of vodka.” Or anything.
“Don’t think about the taste, just drink.”
Before I lose my nerve, I do it, pushing past the burn in my throat. Oh God, that’s vile. Like paint thinner.
She grins. “You look pretty lightweight, so give that fifteen or so to kick in.”
“Are we doing shots?” Kelly asks, joining us. Greg must have finally left her alone. “Give me a Woo Woo,” she says to Harry.
He looks at her like she’s got three heads. “What the hell’s a Woo Woo?”
“Peach schnapps, vodka, cranberry juice, and lime.”
“Ooh, that sounds good,” Elena says. “Give me one, too.” She turns to me. “You want one?”
I shrug. “Sure, why not?” In for a penny, in for a pound.
Kelly holds up three fingers. “Three Woo Woos, please.”
Harry rolls his eyes, mumbling something about out of towners, but sets to making them.
“Abby, are you drinking?” Harper asks as she sidles up next to our group.
“I guess I am.” I don’t feel any different so far. Elena said it’d take fifteen minutes, though.
“Yes, all right!” she cheers, holding up her empty glass. “Make another of whatever they’re having for me,” she calls to Harry.
He finishes making the shots. “Y’all might want to pace yourselves.”
“It’s Harper’s wedding week,” Kelly tells him, as if that explains everything.
Elena holds up her shot and shouts, “Harper’s getting married!”
“Woo!” Harper and Kelly yell in unison, then all of them down their shots.
I grab mine off the counter, wincing down at it, already anticipating the awful taste.
Bottoms up, I guess.