Chapter 21 Fitz #2
“Do you want some cheese?” I pet her ears under the cone. She pads after me into the living room, where I pour a fresh scotch and watch Winnie and her family through the open doorway to the hallway.
“Mom—” Winnie stands on the bottom step. “I told you I’m not dating the neighbor’s son.”
“When Kathy was out on her date, I wanted you to have someone as well. Your dad and I didn’t want you to feel left out, and you never know, you might find love.” Her mother tucks Winnie’s hair back in its clip.
“Maybe Fitz has another brother,” Frances suggests.
Winnie will date one of my brothers over my dead body.
“It’s okay if he doesn’t have money, Winnie,” her mom is telling her. “You’re at the point in your life where you can support a dependent or three.”
“True dat. I was at Kathy’s coloring-book night at the Brew & Browse. You’re poppin’.” Winnie’s granny flashes a hiphop sign.
“Now, Logan is a very nice young man. Do you have a safety pin, Frances? This blouse is gaping.”
Winnie pulls the emerald-green blouse that’s gaping at the chest closed.
“It really is rough out there in the dating world. Just try, Winnie.” Now her dad’s coaxing her.
“No.” Her voice gets louder as she comes into the living room. “I’m sorry, but you’re not staying for dinner.”
“Winnie,” her mom gasps. “Now, Logan, of course you’re—where is Logan?”
They look around, confused.
Winnie’s face screws up when she sees me still there.
“He left. Said he had a family emergency. Very tragic.” I sip my drink.
“I hope Mrs. Miller is okay.”
“I hope that house burned down. She’s feeding raccoons hot dogs, cat food, and cookies,” Granny Frances complains. “Tanking our property values.”
“My property values,” Winnie murmurs.
“Now, look, I got some bad news.” Mark comes back in, wringing his hands.
“Dad, you were supposed to get Kathy ready.” Winnie’s exasperated.
“She’s still getting over her breakup, my poor little girl.” He dabs his eyes.
“You’re too soft on her, Dad,” Winnie says. “And Fitz came all this way for her.”
Mm, for Winnie, but sure.
“You can take my other daughter.” Mark grabs Winnie.
“What? No!”
“What a wonderful idea. It’s fate,” her mother declares. “Winnie, go put on some shapewear. And don’t drink so much at dinner—you want to impress your sexy date.”
“Mom, I’m not going on a date with him.” Winnie turns to me. “I’m very sorry about this. Can we reschedule?”
I give her my slowest, laziest blink. “Do you have any idea how much my time is worth, Creampuff?”
“Why don’t we”—her mom claps her hands—“all have dinner here?”
“Fitz already made reservations.”
“I’m not eating dinner by myself,” I tell her.
“I’ll be your date, sweetcheeks.” Frances waggles her eyebrows at me.
“Gran, no.” Winnie presses a finger underneath her eyes.
A timer dings in the kitchen.
“Do you like red or white?” April trills.
Winnie’s glaring at me as Fidget and her mother escort me to the dining room.
“Winnie, when was the last time you used this dining room?” I tease her.
“You need to eat then leave.”
“Make the man his plate, Winnie,” her mom orders.
“He can get his own food.”
“Winifred Larkspur, that’s no way to treat a guest.”
“Especially not one as good-looking as him.” Her grandmother glugs wine into my glass.
“Kathy! Come on down and get some food, sweetie,” Mark calls up the stairs as Winnie dishes up the food. “You need to keep up your strength.”
“How about those Orcas, huh?” Mark scoots his chair up to the table.
“Yes, I’m pretty pleased with that GM hire.”
“Well, no kidding, you own four sports teams. Hey.” Mark points at me with his fork. “Have you ever thought about starting a shuffleboard league?” Mark leans in.
“Dad, no one wants to watch shuffleboarding.”
“It’s exciting! We drew quite the crowd on the Coastal Daydreams cruise, didn’t we, April? You remember, Kath?” Her dad gives Kathy a sympathetic pat as she slumps down in the chair next to him.
“Did you enjoy your cruise?” I ask them. “I just bought that cruise line but was worried it wasn’t as nice as the Norwegian lines.”
“It was wonderful. Oh, we love cruising, don’t we?” April gushes.
“Fantastic time.”
“Frances was almost left on an island.”
“That was the cruise I was supposed to get proposed to on,” Kathy wails then rushes away from the table.
Her parents race after her.
Fidget rests her head on my lap.
“Hey, girl.” I sneak her a mushroom. “I know. The service here is pretty atrocious. Fidget and I are hungry, Winnie.” I smirk at her.
She drops pasta on my plate like she’d rather dump it on my head.
I know what you sound like with a man’s fingers on your clit. “I’ll take some more wine too.”
She picks up the wine bottle and dumps it all out into her glass then sets it back down wordlessly.
“Oh, Winnie, he needs more salad.” Her mom is back. She spreads out her napkin. “So, Fitz,” she begins. “Why are you still single? A rich, good-looking man like you?”
“Just haven’t found the perfect woman.” Lies. She’s sitting right next to me.
“Any woman would be lucky to have you.”
“My wife hit me with her car. That’s how we met.” Mark smiles happily.
“Honey, you’re a good driver.”
“I bet you don’t need to drive yourself anywhere, Fitz,” Mark tells me.
“Man owns the football team—he can do whatever the hell he wants,” Frances declares.
“I’ll get you all tickets,” I offer.
“Perks!” Winnie’s granny cheers. “See, Kathy?” Her grandmother turns to the mascara-smudged girl moping back into the dining room, blowing her nose. “This is why you can’t keep shitting the bed.”
“Winnie wouldn’t go on a date with him either,” Kathy complains.
“I’m trying to help you out,” Winnie screeches.
“Don’t mind me. I love being objectified.” I smirk up at her.
“Eat your salad.” She picks up the empty bottle of wine and curses then sets it back down. She disappears then returns from the kitchen and sets down a platter of beautifully pan-seared white fish in the center of the table. Winnie adds an aggressive flourish of lemon and parsley.
“I can’t believe you wanted to waste this on Logan, Creampuff.”
“…staying for you, Winnie,” Kathy whispers to her sister as they head back to the butler’s pantry.
I dig into the meal with relish.
“That man knows how to eat your fish, Winnie,” her granny quips.
I’m choking on the dinner when Fidget comes back in with another bottle of wine in her mouth. She sets it carefully in my lap.
“No, the 2019, Fidget,” Winnie says then turns back to arguing with her sister.
Coughing into my napkin, I stand up and crane my neck. I watch Fidget go to the wine fridge, open it, paw at the bottles and select another, and replace it with the one Winnie sent back.
“She’s shit the bed on every single date I set up,” Winnie complains to her mom.
“Now is not the time and place. We have a guest.” April is incensed.
“We don’t have a guest. He’s an interloper.”
“Finally. Thank you, Fidget.” Winnie pours wine into my glass, hovering too close. “Drink the rest of that.”
I want to drag her wrist to my mouth.
I don’t.
The dog drops a bag of flour on my nuts.
I wheeze.
“Fidget,” Winnie yells, “I told you to stay out of the cupboard.” The dog tosses a box of caramels on top of the flour. “I’ll take that.” Winnie’s fingers are so close to my crotch.
“Fidget wants butterscotch blondie brownies.” Kathy sighs, returning to the table with more bread. Freshly baked.
Guy could get used to this.
“I like your butterscotch blondie brownies,” I say.
“Me too.” Kathy sniffs.
“It’s settled,” Mark declares. “Winnie’s making brownies!”
“Fine,” Winnie hisses.
I grin at her.
“Huzzah!” Mark cheers, already tipsy.
“She’ll make extra so you can take some home,” April assures me.
“Did I tell you she bakes?” Mark asks me. “She makes these little pizza-roll things—I could eat a hundred. She’s gonna make someone a very happy husband.” Her dad pats his belly.
I’ll burn down the church if any man besides me marries Winnie.
“My daughter,” April says, dishing up more food for me, “needs to be a little nicer. She’s grumpy.” She pulls me back down before I can get up to take care of the bread and let Winnie eat her food.
“Now, Fitz, I’ve signed my daughter up for a parents-of-singles mixer,” April says decisively. “No, Winnie, don’t protest—you don’t have to pay me back. And, Fitz, I’ll sign you up too. As an apology for Kathy.”
“This man doesn’t need our little ol’ mixer, April.” Frances licks her spoon. “He probably has all those fancy dating apps. Like what’s-it-called? The real exclusive one with all the celebrities?”
“It’s called Parlor, Gran,” Winnie says, grinding the bread knife into the baguette.
“Can you get me an invite? I need to find a rich older man,” Gran tells me. “I’m going to feed him just like Winnie does. Lots of butter and salt. Six months, his fortune is mine.”
Winnie is by the buffet where the food is laid out. I watch the reflection of her nodding and making noncommittal noises as her father tells us a long-winded story about golfing. I almost miss it in the reflection.
She freezes, her hand on something, then pulls out a scrap of paper. Crumples it up behind her back.
A note.
But—it’s not my note.
I frown.
Smooth out my features. Feel in my pocket.
No, mine is here.
If her family wasn’t sitting here around the dining room table, I’d grab her wrist and pry her fingers open for that little piece of paper.
Because I need to know who the fuck is leaving notes for my girl.