Chapter 3
My brain is dissolving.
There’s water and saliva dripping down my chin, and Daryl has a few droplets of spit on his cheek, and I keep looking from Dominic’s horror-stricken face to my mother’s scandalized expression, and none of it makes sense.
I may as well have a sign on my forehead that reads Does Not Compute.
“I’m so sorry.” They’re the first words I’m able to get out.
“Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry. Here.” I dive for the wad of paper napkins in the middle of the table.
“Here. Let me just—I’ll just—” But I break off, frozen, because I cannot and will not wipe spit off of my mother’s boyfriend’s face.
Even if it’s my spit. So I shove the napkins in front of Daryl’s nose.
“I’m so sorry,” I say again, but the words are more miserable now.
“Really, Reese,” my mother says, and although I’m not looking at her anymore, her voice is as scandalized as her face still must be. “What’s wrong with you?” She lets out a tinkling laugh. “She’s quite something today.”
Daryl waves one hand good-naturedly. “No harm done,” he says as he accepts the clump of napkins I’m still holding out. “No harm done at all.”
Well. I guess Daryl isn’t such a bad name.
Except, of course, that it’s attached to the last name Harper.
“Reese, sweetheart, introduce yourself properly,” my mother says with a nudge of her sharp elbow and a smile that bares clenched teeth. “And scoot in the booth, will you? Being next to the wall makes me feel claustrophobic.”
“I’m Reese,” I say with a stupid little wave at Daryl, who’s still wiping his face. He gives me a distracted nod, and I can see the resemblance to Dominic. They have the same eyes, the same hairline.
Which, you know, of course they do. OF COURSE THEY DO. Because they are father and son.
My mother. Is dating. Dominic’s father.
I’ve seen Daryl around town. I know Daryl in the same way I know most of the people in Autumn Ridge. We’ve never chatted, but I know who he is. I once even wanted him to be my father-in-law.
But now?
Bad. This is bad. I’m an openminded woman, but my mother cannot date my ex’s dad. It’s too much, too tangled, too weird.
This is no good. No good at all.
Dominic clearly agrees, because he’s staring at me like he’ll die if I slide into this booth.
But what else am I supposed to do? Our parents don’t know we dated.
So I ignore his silent signals and sit on the bench, light brown vinyl worn and cracked.
I scoot over, wiping the table with the sleeve of my sweater as I go, until I’m directly across from Dom.
He watches with irritation, but when I give him the tiniest, panickiest look—one he will clearly interpret as It’s not like I have a choice—his eyes tighten, and he jerks his gaze away from mine.
“Hi, Reese,” Daryl says with a smile at me, setting the used napkins off to the side.
“It’s good to meet you. I know your family, of course, but we’ve never formally talked.
” His voice is deep, manly, direct. “You might have seen Dominic around, though”—boy, have I ever, Daryl—“and my girls couldn’t be here today, but you’ve probably seen them too.
Rosie’s over at the inn, and Emma works at the library. ”
Daryl’s smile is genuine, and he seems overall very kind and normal as he talks a bit about his daughters.
If he’s kind and normal, why is he dating Alvina? What could they possibly have in common? Isn’t there someone nicer he might like to see?
Someone less related to me, perhaps? Literally anyone at all?
When my mother reaches across the table and places her bony hand on top of Daryl’s, dread coils in my gut, and I swear Dominic almost throws up. He swallows as the corners of his lips curl down, and a pale shade of green enters his cheeks.
Maybe I should be offended on behalf of my mother, but to be honest, I don’t even blame him for his clear disapproval. My mother is nothing but bad news when it comes to dating and marriage and men in general. I don’t know how she and my dad stayed together so long.
Sometimes I even wonder—
No. Nope. Not going there.
All that to say, Dom never thought Alvina was good for me—even though we were in college when we were together, so he never formally met her. Now that he’s meeting her for the first time in person, his feelings are probably cemented.
“So tell me,” he says, his eyes trained on where our parents are now holding hands over the table and smiling at each other. “How did you two get together?”
Good. Good question. There must be some logic behind this pairing.
“I’d love to know as well,” I say, and my voice is only slightly strained.
“Well, really, it was meant to be,” my mother says, beaming at Daryl.
He nods back in agreement.
No, Daryl! I think. Do not be taken in!
“Your mother was seated in front of me at church,” Daryl says.
His words are softer now, even dazed, as he continues to stare at Alvina.
“Even from behind I could see she was beautiful. I’d seen her around, of course, but something was different this time.
She was so focused on the pastor. I could see that fervor for righteousness. I admire that in a woman.”
I have so many responses to this, but I can only get out a few words. “At church,” I say with a weak laugh. “Imagine that.”
My mother attends church for one purpose and one purpose only: It gives her a legitimate reason to dress fancily and show off. She is not a woman of faith.
Alvina Berkeley is her own higher power.
“It started with brunch,” my mother says, patting Daryl’s hand. “And the rest was history.”
“History?” I say blankly, my voice a little too high-pitched. “It was two weeks ago—ow.” I push myself closer to the wall so that Alvina’s elbow can’t do any more damage.
When I glance up at Dominic, he’s watching us with eyes narrowed again, irritation still etched in his features. He turns that glare on Alvina—where it belongs, I might add—and then he speaks.
“Careful,” he says lightly to my mother, perfectly casual, even bland.
His gaze jumps to where Alvina’s bony elbow has probably bruised my ribs.
“I heard recently that involuntary twitches can be a bad sign. You want to take care of your health.” The smile that glazes over his face a second later could almost be called friendly, except that annoyance still lingers in his eyes.
Alvina sniffs and tucks her elbow closer to her body, away from my side. “Such a considerate young man,” she says with brittle affection, false but significantly better than what I would receive if I had said the same thing.
“He is,” Daryl says with a genuine smile, and he claps Dom on the shoulder. “He’s grown up to be a great young man.” He doesn’t notice Dominic shrink under the praise.
I want to shrink too—not because of anything Daryl has said but because I am so, so tired. It hits me like a sack of bricks. I would love to go to sleep and wake up and realize none of this actually happened.
Please let this be a bad dream. I will wake up in my old bed in the room I share with Alvina in my old house, and she will be snoring and drooling but not dating my ex’s father, and we will all go about our business as normal and usual and everything will be fine.
“Anyway, kids, we know this is all a bit sudden,” Daryl says—sweet Daryl with that smile on his face and absolutely no idea of the train wreck he is hitching himself to—“but we wanted to let you know what was going on, in case you see us together.” He directs a smile at me.
“Your mother has been coming up with some fun fall activities for us to do together.”
My laugh is hollow but also slightly manic. “Has she really?”
Alvina has the audacity to look completely at ease, like she didn’t just ask me to do that bit of legwork for her.
Daryl gives one brisk nod. “So if anyone would like to join us, we’d love to have some good old-fashioned fun!”
I would rather be strangled to death with my mother’s negligee.
“Probably gonna have to pass on that one,” Dominic says, the words breezy.
“A lot of business at this time of year.” Then he gives the table a thump and nudges his dad.
“I have to go.” All he offers me and Alvina is a brief nod before he and Daryl stand.
Daryl shifts out of the way so that Dom can leave, and I hurriedly tap Alvina’s arm.
“I need to go too,” I say quickly. Then, paying very little attention, I add, “Have a good—fun!”
Because Alvina does not possess the same manners Daryl does, she does not move for me.
So I end up basically sitting on top of her and then emerging on the other side, darting toward the entrance as fast as possible.
When I push through and find myself in the front lot, I look around, searching for Dominic.
I find him as he’s disappearing into his old Ford, a green baseball hat pulling my eye. Even though I hate running, I break into a jog anyway, making a beeline for the pickup.
I remember that truck, by the way. An old clunker, red-orange and battered but apparently still chugging along. There’s a stain on the passenger seat belt from a bottle of nail polish I spilled. The rearview mirror has a tiny crack in one corner.
I kissed Dominic in the bed of that truck, too. So many kisses, so many ways, so many things we laughed about together.
When I huff and puff up to the Ford and knock on the window, however, neither of us are laughing. I’m completely winded, and Dom is looking at me with furrowed brows.
He rolls the window down slowly, his gaze wary on me. He reaches over and then holds up a water bottle. “Want a drink to go with that stitch in your side?”
I frown. Then I reach through the window to flick the bill of his hat before pushing it off his head.
“Don’t be childish,” he mutters as he grabs for the hat. He swipes it up and jams it back on his head. “Did you need something?”