Chapter 20 #2
“A little late to settle down? Or change things with your parents?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged again like it was decided.
It was strangely disappointing to hear him say that.
Any small hope that this thing between them could be more than a fling began to dissipate.
Her instincts were probably right—he was having fun on his vacation.
Wasn’t that what she was doing, too? “So,” she said, trying to mask her disappointment. “Do you like who you are now?”
He smiled. “I’d rather think how much I like you.”
“Okay. Given that I vomited all over your shoes, how much?”
He grinned. “You missed my shoes. So I still like you a lot. Is it not obvious?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “I might have thought it obvious if it hadn’t been for my bothersome family.”
“What, the Posse?” He shrugged. “They’re a piece of cake.”
“They are anything but a piece of cake. They are annoying as hell,” she said. “And you said you were afraid of them.”
“I am,” Harrison said. They laughed.
The food arrived, and as they ate, he talked about his conversation with his manager, Clay, and what a prick he was, but such a smart prick, which made it hard to hate him.
He told her how he once accidentally but very nearly nailed Clay with a shot because Clay was talking and not looking where he was going.
Then he told her about some of the wildest shots he’d seen on tour, which had her laughing.
And even mildly curious about golf. Which made Harrison a miracle worker because Amy had never been even a teensy-tiny bit curious about golf.
When they ordered dessert, Harrison winced sympathetically and asked her to call her mother.
“No,” Amy moaned.
“Well, if you’d rather, I can call Sandy to pick us up.”
“Ohmigod. Those are my choices?” With a sigh, she pulled out her phone and called her mom.
Her mom answered on the fourth ring. “Amy!” she shouted into the phone as if Amy had been lost for years and had just made contact. It sounded like someone had found the volume on the Christmas music and had cranked it. In the background, the Posse was howling with laughter.
“We’re playing a game. You should be here!”
“Mom, are you okay to drive?”
“What?”
Amy rolled her eyes at Harrison. “Maybe turn down the music a little?”
“Good idea,” her mother said, then instructed someone to turn it down. “I just turned it up,” she heard June complain, but a moment later, the music wasn’t quite as loud.
“That’s better. Can you come around the lake and get us?”
“Why?”
“Because I got sick on the boat ride over.”
“Oh, Amy,” her mother said with disappointment. “You should always have some Dramamine on you.”
“Well, I don’t usually get sick, so—”
“What are you talking about? Don’t you remember how sick you used to get on roller coasters? Always.”
Amy did not remember that. But if it was true, how come there had been multiple roller coasters? “Mom…are you safe to drive?”
“What sort of question is that? Of course I am! Where am I driving to?”
After an explanation that was longer than it had to be—“Not right, Mom. Left at the cutoff. Left. Right takes you to Dallas”—and another plea to use GPS that fell on deaf ears, Amy hung up. She looked at Harrison. “It’s possible we may live here now.”
“Well, the food is good, so we’ll probably manage to survive.”
They had dessert, then a while later, they waited outside under the awning for Amy’s mother to show up, bundled together against the cold and sleet. Harrison put his arms around Amy. “This has been nice,” he said, pulling her into his side. “The vomit notwithstanding.”
“Don’t remind me,” she said. “But yeah, it’s been really nice.” So nice that she felt all tingly inside. There it was, that telltale sign of feelings growing in her. She glanced up at him. “I have a confession: I’m missing our alone time. Hope that’s not too cringe.”
“Not at all. I’ve been missing it, too,” he said, and then leaned down and kissed her gently, like they were an item. Like they were dating. A friendly, fond kiss with promise of more to come. But then he lifted his head. “Unfortunately, the Posse moves around all damn night. Have you noticed?”
“Yes! What are they doing?” Amy demanded.
“Are they maybe Wiccans engaged in some ritual?”
“And poor Hillary is the sacrifice? Or maybe she’s the new recruit.”
“They could be digging an escape tunnel at night. Taking turns with the shovel.”
“To where?”
He thought about it. “Denison. They still haven’t gone shopping.”
“Or making a penis cake. I expect to see one any day now that the taco casserole has made an appearance.”
Harrison drew back. “Penis cake?”
“Oh, right—I forgot you didn’t know. I got a penis cake for my fiftieth. Complete with buttercream icing suggestively placed.”
“That is…wild,” he said, laughing, shaking his head.
His laugh was so warm, and Amy felt a terrible urge to confess she wasn’t hip enough to have a fling, but she would love to keep seeing him, if that was at all possible.
But that was all too much to say or ask.
Not here, not after a few days. He was being a very good sport about her family, and she was enjoying his company, and she decided then and there to eject the question of how to define this relationship.
It didn’t need to be defined. It needed to be lived.
That was it. She was beginning to annoy herself.
Because why would she screw this up? This was wonderful. Enjoy it while you can.
If she had any lingering ideas about an actual relationship, they were pummeled into submission when her mother arrived in a Tahoe SUV with a wreath attached to the grille. She waved at them through the front windshield.
“After you,” Harrison said, and opened the door for Amy. The moment she climbed into the front seat, she heard her oldest son’s voice. She snapped her gaze to her mother, wide-eyed. Jonah was talking over the car speaker.
“Jonah? Jonah,” her mother said, interrupting his talk of something to do with the fourteenth century, “your mom is here.”
“Oh. Hi, Mom.” His deep, raspy voice boomed over the car radio as Harrison climbed into the back seat.
“Umm…hi, Jonah. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. Nana called me.”
Amy looked at her mother again.
“Nothing is going on, honey. I’m just checking in with the boys. Their mother is out of town right now.”
“Mom,” Jonah said. “Get some ice cream at the store. The intense chocolate kind. No nuts. Dad had some and it’s really good.”
“Well, I don’t know when I’ll—”
“Also, I need some lotion.”
Amy winced. No mother wanted to know that her seventeen-year-old son wanted lotion.
“Mom!” Ethan’s much higher voice was suddenly crackling in the Tahoe. “Mom, Mom, Dad won’t let me go to Connor’s house!”
“Because we have plans, freak,” Jonah said. “And Connor is lame.”
And now they were on speakerphone.
“Shut up,” Ethan shouted, and then there was the sound of a slap.
“Ouch!” Jonah shouted.
“Jonah, I am sure Ethan’s friend is not lame,” Amy’s mother said.
Amy wanted to open the car door and toss herself out. She couldn’t see Harrison’s face, but she could imagine the horror written all over it.
“Mom, please let me go,” Ethan said. He was crying now. “Dad is so mean!”
“Ethan, you have to do what your father says.”
“It’s not fair! I always have to do everything, and Jonah doesn’t have to do anything.”
“Yeah, bruh, I’m living on easy street over here. Who had to take out the trash?”
“I hate you!” Ethan shouted like a small child, reverting to grammar-school behavior. It was as baffling as it was embarrassing.
“What is all the shouting?”
“Oh God,” she murmured. Her humiliation was complete because now Ryan had entered the maelstrom that was her life. “Hang up,” Amy muttered to her mother. “Hang up.”
“Hi, Ryan,” her mother said. “Sorry to disturb. I just wanted to check on the kids while Amy is out of town.”
“No problem, Barb. But why is everyone shouting?”
“Ethan wants to go to Connor’s house, and he was asking Amy since you said no.”
Her mother could stir up trouble without lifting a finger, and so damn blithely, too. It would almost be admirable if it wasn’t so maddening.
“Amy?” Ryan paused. “Where is Amy?”
“In the car. With me.”
“You’re with Amy?” Ryan sounded terribly confused.
“I’m driving her and her friend.”
“Wait, what? I thought she was at the lake doing some art something.”
Some art something! Proving once again that no one listened to her. Amy hunched down farther in her seat.
“She is! So am I,” her mother said.
“You’re doing the art thing, too? But I—”
“I don’t have time to explain right now,” her mother said. “Kiss the kids for me.”
“Barb, wait. She’s there with someone?”
“Good night!” Barb clicked off. She looked at Amy and giggled. “That was fun. That man could never read a room.”
Oh, the irony. Amy let the weight of her humiliation bury her for a moment.
“How was your dinner, H?” her mother continued, oblivious to her daughter’s consternation, and looked at her other passenger in the rearview mirror.
Amy couldn’t stand it. She risked a glimpse of him, turning slightly in her seat to see him behind her mother. The poor man looked shell-shocked. He was probably going to pack his bags the moment they were back at the lake house.
“It was good. Had a burger.”
“I love a good burger myself. But you missed a very good taco casserole. I have made more taco casseroles than any human alive, and can you believe that Carol had the nerve to critique it? Too much chili powder, she said.” And then she launched into an explanation of all the ingredients in her taco casserole, why she had chosen them, and in what amounts.
Amy wanted to die with embarrassment. This was not how she’d wanted this night to end and privately feared how much worse it could get.
It did not feel good.