Chapter Fourteen
JOE LEFT the house early the next morning so he could get a jump on winterizing his clients’ gardens and for no other reason. He absolutely was not panicking about Austin meeting his mother or the knowing looks his mother sent his way all night long.
Not that she knew anything. Because there was nothing to know.
Every time Pepa made a move in Joe’s direction, Maria had given Joe a look like she knew he lied about her ownership.
He hadn’t exactly meant to lie about it, but he hadn’t told his mother about the dog because she’d never been fond of them, not to mention that owning a dog together spoke of intentions.
She would read into it and assume Joe was trying to get things that he definitely wasn’t.
Just because Pepa liked the breezeway didn’t mean that Joe was going to keep a whole house for her.
So Joe had pointedly ignored all of his mom’s looks and focused on having a nice evening feeding people.
Still, it was weird to see his mom get on so well with Austin. She’d never taken an interest in his friends when he was a child or teen, and she hated Paul. She’d always been better at meeting Joe’s material needs than his emotional ones. Watching her make such an effort was weird, but also nice.
But he couldn’t avoid Austin forever, because Meg had a swim meet that weekend, and her parents wanted to take everyone out for dinner after—everyone including the other party DeeDee had left the house to, who Chris wanted to verbally interrogate.
The restaurant was nice enough to have good food—not so nice that any of the kids would fail the dress code—but from the get-go, Joe could tell things were going to go sideways.
First of all, Meg seated herself between her mother and Will, not leaving an empty space for Alex.
Instead, Alex sat across the table from Meg, as if in defiance, and Gavin sat to their left.
The only way Joe could sit near Alex was to take the seat between them and Chris, which he couldn’t do because Chris was already waving Austin into it and asking questions.
So Joe was stuck at the opposing head of the table, one seat away from his tension-filled children.
They made it through the ordering and delivery of their meals with only mild sniping from Meg and Alex, so Joe hoped that whatever was brewing would continue to simmer for one more day.
Joe was distracted by his dinner and watching Will casting longing looks kitty-corner toward Austin, so he didn’t hear all of the conversation, but he definitely heard the end of it.
“That guy on Meg’s team wasn’t bad either—Hammerhead,” Gavin said.
“Hammerhead?” Meg asked with a frown.
“Yeah,” Gavin explained. “Guy with his eyeballs practically on opposite sides of his head?”
Meg’s frown deepened. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”
Gavin looked abashed.
“What’s it to you?” Alex asked. “Why do you care what anyone says about it? It’s not like you like him.”
Meg’s fork clanked against her plate as a dark flush spread over her face. “Being a decent person isn’t dependent on experiencing romantic attraction.” She paused for effect. “Obviously.”
Joe’s breath whooshed out of him. Right for the nuclear option. He met Chris’s eyes, then Cheryl’s, trying to gauge if either of them had the slightest clue what their kids were fighting about. Looked like a no.
Super.
“Meg,” Cheryl said sharply.
Alex’s chair scraped against the floor as they stood up quickly. For half a second, Joe expected them to throw their drink in Meg’s face, but they just said, “Excuse me, I have to use the bathroom. If I can find one that’ll let me in.”
Joe watched them go, his mouth half open in shock. Finally he looked at Gavin. “Do you…?”
Gavin’s face was pale, his eyes round. He shook his head.
Joe looked at Will. Will was concentrating so hard on his short ribs that Joe thought he might be attempting a molecular breakdown. No help there.
He looked at Meg, who was still furiously red.
She pushed away her plate. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
Fantastic.
“Meg, you just had a swim meet. You need to eat—”
“I said I’m not hungry.”
Fuck it. Joe turned his gaze to Chris and attempted to communicate telepathically, I’ll handle the other three if you take Meg. “Should we get the check?” He glanced around at the half-full plates. “And some takeout boxes?”
It was a long, awkward drive home. Will squashed into the middle of the back seat. All three kids stewed in silence. It smelled like leftovers.
Austin drove in silence, tapping his fingers on the wheel, the radio turned low. The speakers crackled so much Joe could barely make out the tune, never mind the lyrics.
Finally Austin let out a breath. “You know, I hate to side with the kids,” he said, “but if this is your idea of a date, you really do have no game.”
In the back seat, Will made a noise that might’ve been a laugh or might’ve been some kind of audible wince. Gavin howled.
Alex continued to stew.
“Don’t worry,” Joe said. “I’m not in the habit of bringing moody teenage chaperones on my dates.”
His voice carried every ounce of his displeasure. Good. Let it. Alex should know he was pissed. They were going to be having a long talk when they got home.
Actually, fuck that. They could have it now. When they got home, Joe wanted a beer, a shower, a cuddle with the critters, and his bed.
“You want to tell me what your problem is, Alex?”
They huffed. “Of course you’re siding with her.”
Was Joe imagining it, or was there a little extra vitriol on that pronoun? “Uh, yeah,” he said, “because from where I’m standing, you’re being a real asshole for no reason.” He mentally awarded himself two points for not saying bitch.
“Fine, whatever. Can we talk about this later? I don’t want to get into it with everyone.”
“Maybe you should have thought of that before you made a scene in front of ‘everyone’ at Meg’s big night.” Jesus, raising teenagers was tough when you didn’t have any actual authority.
More silence from the back seat, broken only by the sound of chewing. Gavin had not given up on his french fries, even though they had to be stone-cold by now.
Then a sniffle.
Ah, fuck.
Then an unexpected low murmur from the driver’s seat. “Why don’t you sit this one out?” Austin suggested. “We’ll be home in ten. I’ll get it.”
Joe cast him a sideways glance as they passed under a streetlight. “What?”
“It’s—no offense.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a sad parody of a smile. “Just… I think I’ve got more applicable experience in this case, all right?” He paused. “Plus, you look wiped.”
Joe wanted to argue, but he was, in fact, wiped. He sagged into his seat—God, next time they were taking the truck, even if that meant the kids were even more squished; this car was so uncomfortable—and leaned his head against the window. “Thanks.”
Austin flicked his blinker to exit the traffic circle. “Hey, what are house husbands for?”