28. Chapter 28
Chapter twenty-eight
I ’m not stupid. I know Gigi is going to try with all her might to do something for my birthday, and I will do my best to stop it.
The last thing I need is a birthday celebration.
Everything else, though, I’m starting to like… Love, maybe, if that was a possibility.
I really like spending every day with Gigi.
And that’s fucking terrifying.
I like fucking, too, of course.
But this thing is happening where I don’t want her to leave after. I think she’s noticed, because she doesn’t jump up and start getting dressed right away anymore.
We’ll lay in my bed for a while and she’ll trace her dainty fingers over my tattoos, scoffing when she sees something she’s not fond of—the blooming flower that says mom beneath it, the anchor, the set of gleaming, hungry wolf eyes.
She’ll ask me why on earth I got that, whatever it is, tattooed on me. I tell her the story behind the tattoo—most of the time, that story isn’t a story at all. It’s me telling Gigi I thought that piece looked cool and decided on a whim to have Eddy do the damn thing—and she rolls those beautiful blue eyes after.
Every time. I’ve started telling her there isn’t a story behind tattoos that have stories just so she’ll roll her eyes at me.
And not try to prod for info.
The more information I give her, the more she’ll love me, and the harder it will be for her when our time together ends.
I’m an asshole, but I don’t want to obliterate her heart. So, I’m treading carefully.
“Hey, tiger,” Belinda croons, walking into the back where I’m scraping at dishes—unfortunately headphone-less today. She runs her finger along the back of my neck, and I step away from her to put some distance between us. Ever since she’s been on the college-aged hunt, it’s like she got sights set on me.
Is she jealous of Gigi?
What a nutjob.
“Earth to Cadey-Wadey,” Belinda says, pulling me from my thoughts as she waves a hand in front of my face. “Did you hear what I said? What’s got you so lost in thought? Am I distracting you?”
“I didn’t hear a word.”
“I said that you’re coming over for dinner tomorrow.”
My eyebrows knit. “I’m what?”
“I’ve cleared it with my daughter. She’s excited for us to get to know each other. She recommended we spend time together.”
Yeah, right. Like Gigi would be jumping at the prospect of us and Belinda talking over a meal.
“She did?”
Belinda nods. “All you have to do is show up. Tomorrow, seven o’clock.”
My jaw ticks. I don’t like being told what to do.
I go to rebut, but Belinda wanders off before I can. As soon as possible, I meet Gigi in the hallway between the kitchen and dining room. Her hands are on her hips, those lips a mix of pouty and pissed.
“Why in the hell,” she sneers, “did you ask Belinda to have you over for dinner to get to know her?”
My eyes widen. “ I didn’t. Of course I didn’t. She told me it was your idea.”
Gigi scrapes her teeth over her bottom lip. “Okay. Well, what do we do now?”
“Looks like I’m having dinner with you and mommy, princess,” I muse. “It won’t be all bad.”
“For you?” Gigi counters. “Because for me, it’s my worst nightmare.”
When I knock on the door to Belinda’s house the following evening, I consider running back to the truck and driving off. Only for a split second. But I consider it.
Dinner with a girl’s parents? I’ve never done that. It’s not on my to-do list, and I’m damn sure having me over for dinner with her mother isn’t part of Gigi’s plan to get me to change my mind about us.
Even if it was, there’s no way in hell. Shit like this makes me want to run for the hills.
“Come in,” Belinda croons as she opens the door. “I’m just finishing up the salad.”
She’s wearing a snug maroon dress, showing far too much cleavage. I tear my eyes away once I realize Belinda is trying to get me to look at her rack.
“Like the dress?” she whispers as I walk in. “I do, too.”
“Where’s Gigi?” I ask stiffly. The sooner there’s a buffer here, the better.
“She’s finishing getting ready,” Belinda tells me as she walks into the kitchen. “I picked out a dress for her. You’ll like it. It’s just like mine.” I hear clattering in the kitchen, water running. “Why don’t you say hello to my friend?”
Friend? She has a friend over for this thing?
I take a few steps into the living room. There’s a guy sitting on the couch, wearing thick frames and a tweed jacket. At least I think it’s tweed. I’ve never actually seen it up close. He looks like a tweed guy, if I had to guess.
“Hey,” he says, standing as he notices me. He sticks a hand out. “I’m Marcus.”
“Marcus,” I say, nodding. “Cade.”
We shake and sit on opposite sides of the couch while we wait for Belinda and Gigi.
“Marcus,” I mutter, because I can’t help it. “Tell me something, bud.”
He raises his eyebrows.
“Belinda?” I whisper-yell. “Have you met her? Dude, we’re the same age. You know that, right? We look the same age.”
He chuckles, low. “This is a bucket list for me. If I have to drink some wine, schmooze, and laugh a little, I will.”
I can’t imagine sleeping with Belinda Elliott being on anyone’s bucket list. The thought makes me shutter, my stomach twisting. “Better you than me,” I say.
He smirks slyly. This idiot really thinks he hit the jackpot with that woman.
Farthest thing from, buddy.
Now, her daughter, on the other hand—
Well, Gigi is certainly someone’s jackpot to win. If they care to gamble.
My phone buzzes. I pull it from my pocket and it’s a text from Gigi:
Look at THIS!!! I don’t want to come downstairs in this! I CAN’T!!!
The dress is navy blue, a dangerously low neckline, even for Gigi. It’s too tight, like Belinda purposely bought an extra small so she could tell Gigi she needs to shed a few.
It’s not the best . You don’t want to match mommy on a date.
Thank you for being honest . I’m changing.
Another buzz:
This isn’t a date. We aren’t in a relationship. What did you say we were? Fuck buddies?
She’s got me. I swallow hard, tuck my phone back into my pocket, and then my jaw starts to pulse.
“How long have you and Gigi been together?” Tweed Jacket asks. He pushes his glasses up his nose. Something about this guy just makes me want to punch him in the face.
“Only a month,” I lie. “Meeting Mom tonight. It’s a big deal.”
He guffaws. “Hell yeah, dude. It serious?”
“Not yet. What about you?”
“Brother.”
“I had to ask,” I mutter, smirking at him.
“I’m not in my meet the parents era yet,” he says. “And man, I’m so fucking glad, dude. It’s so… Fuck. It’s stressful, right? I’m stressed looking at you.”
I shrug. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
Tweed guffaws again. “Well, it’s a good thing you—”
“I had to go with this,” Gigi says as she floats down the stairs. She has her hair in a tight bun, wearing a light blue sundress that looks like it was made for her, if I had to wager a guess. She’s barefoot. She looks beautiful, but she also looks like she stopped getting ready when she was three-fourths of the way there. I can picture her getting frustrated, rolling her eyes, coming downstairs looking however she looked.
“You left this poor guy down here with me while you were up there beautifying yourself,” Marcus tells Gigi. “I’ve talked his ear off. And on the night your boyfriend meets Mom for the first time? Come on, Geeg.”
Hardly. Hardly did this idiot talk my ear off.
Gigi makes a face, one-thousand percent because this—Well, because her mother’s fuck buddy called her Geeg. “Um,” she says, looking Marcus up and down, “have we met? I’m Gigi. Belinda’s daughter.” Gigi turns to me. “Sorry I took so long,” she mumbles. She reaches up to—I think—kiss my cheek, but goes for my ear instead. “This is the Marcus. Ex-boyfriend Marcus.”
I pull away from her slightly, hook her chin with my finger, and stare down at her. If Belinda wants to play a game with Gigi tonight, I can play a game with Marcus here. “Hi, pumpkin. You look amazing, by the way.” I kiss her forehead, and she glowers at me. “I was telling Marcus we’ve only been dating a month,” I tell Gigi as she relaxes. “How I’m meeting Mom for the first time today.”
Her eyes flash as she catches on. “You have nothing to be nervous about, babe ,” Gigi tells me as she caresses my cheek. Her palm is warm, soft against my skin, and I miss her the minute she drops her hand. “My mother will love you. As much as she loves me. Probably more.”
“Definitely more,” I snicker.
Gigi rolls her eyes.
“Cade,” Belinda croons later, as she cuts into her chicken like she’s murdering it, even though it’s already long gone. “Gigi tells me that you want to get a tattoo shop started here. Is that right?”
I am in no mood to deal with Belinda and her attempts at socializing. And it’s not just because I can’t stop imagining leaping over this table and choking Marcus out. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“Why don’t you tell us about it?” Marcus says through a mouthful of salad. “I’ve seen the shows about running a place like that, but don’t know the first thing.”
This fucking guy.
“Yeah, it’s, uh—” I fidget. I hate talking about myself. Almost as much as I hate the attention being on me. “Well—”
“Oh, Cade,” Gigi’s mother cuts in. “Don’t be shy.”
Bile rises in my throat. I run my sweaty palms against my jeans, and then dainty fingers wrap around mine. She squeezes my hand.
“Tell them, babe,” she encourages. “I can, if you want. It’s really cool. I think I remember it all, but fill in the blanks if I miss anything?”
I nod at her. “Sure thing, sweetie .”
Then cute, sweet Gigi goes in on an explanation of my career on my behalf. Like she’s telling her own life story, knows every little detail like the back of her hand.
And I’d be lying if I said I’m not more than thankful for this woman at this very moment.
Making my life easy and acting like it’s nothing.
Belinda spent two hours preparing a roasted chicken, fingerling potatoes, roasted vegetables, and a red wine… something. Some glaze. I don’t know.
She has mentioned how hard she slaved at least three times, and demanded that everyone try everything she worked so hard for. She mentions it yet again as Gigi finishes her story about me.
“Plus,” Belinda says as we finish dinner, “I have creme br?lée setting in the fridge. It should be ready soon. Maybe just enough time to clean up, have a glass of red wine for dessert, finish off with the creme. What do we think?” Belinda stands. She has already decided, clearly.
“Sounds wonderful.” Marcus looks pleased as punch. Fucking weirdo. I still have a strong urge to punch him. “I’m going to freshen up. Amazing dinner, Bel Bel.” He’s off, pushing away from the table and bee-lining for the bathroom.
“Cade,” Belinda croons when she’s done giving a lusty stare at him that makes Gigi and I both flinch, “will you help me clean up, hon?”
My eyes flick to Gigi. I see the smallest bit of panic on her face. “I can help you,” she says, standing and wiping her hands on a napkin. She starts to pick up a plate, but I stop her.
“I’ve got it,” I whisper. “I’ll take this one for the team.”
She gives me an unsure smile. Belinda says, “Gigi. Go in the living room and relax. Talk to Marcus. You’ll be in love as soon as you get to know him.”
“I feel like I’ve known him my whole life,” she replies.
I narrow my eyes at her, curious. Will she admit she knows Marcus to Belinda? Has Marcus already spoiled it and Belinda is along for the ride at Gigi’s expense?
“Gigi.” Belinda’s tone is a warning. A very, no matter what, I’m your mother . I’m the adult . My mom uses that on me. But the difference is, my asshole nature is never warranted at my mom. Belinda deserves every ounce of Gigi’s sass.
Gigi pushes away from the table with no more than a heavy sigh.
I follow suit, albeit with obvious disappointment, standing, collecting plates and cups as I go. I get rid of my stack on a counter in the kitchen, then gather the rest of the dishes.
“Do you like him?” Belinda asks.
“Huh?”
“Marcus,” she explains, giving me a look that can only be described as duh! It reminds me of Gigi. “Is he, you know, worth it?”
I shake my head. Well, that depends on what you mean. “That’s your choice to make.”
“I don’t know, Cadey-Wadey,” Belinda laments. “I wonder, is there more out there for me?”
“Maybe.”
“Like a better guy. A more caring man. A man who knows how to love correctly . I just met Marcus a few nights ago, you know? At the beach .”
I start putting dishes into the soapy water as Belinda trails her eyes over me.
“Do you agree?” she asks. “I deserve to be loved correctly.”
What the fuck is this lady doing? I’m not Dr. Phil. My body stiffens in discomfort, my calves aching. “I guess you deserve to be happy.”
I can hear her smile. “Thank you, Cade. No one tells me that, that they simply want me to be happy.”
Anything to get her to shut up.
“You know, you’re an amazing man, Cade.”
I shift uncomfortably as the knot in my stomach tightens. “Thanks. I guess.”
“And I’ve so, so appreciated all that you do for me. How you care.” Belinda is still studying my face, not even trying to wash a dish.
“We have dishes,” I snap through clenched teeth.
“Marcus, honey,” she calls, “will you come help?”
I can hear Gigi’s eye roll from here. I hope she’s told him off by now.
“I planned this so I could talk to you,” Belinda whispers. “About us. We can’t keep flirting at work.”
I turn, ready to snap at Belinda again, and then she’s forcing her body into mine and pushing me against the sink. “What the f—”
She pushes onto her toes, forcing her lips into mine. It’s not a kiss—no way. Just two lips suctioning at skin as I keep my lips tucked behind my teeth. I’m trying to force Belinda away and off of me all the while, while also trying not to hurt this woman, no matter how much I may think I want to at the moment.
“What the hell?” Marcus sees first, poor guy. “What the hell are you doing, bud ?”
Belinda tears away from me, eyes wide, lipstick smudging. “He kissed me,” she says quickly. “He just came on to me suddenly. He overpowered me.”
“Cade?” It’s Gigi standing in the entryway now, her blue eyes searching the scene for answers that I can’t begin to give her.
I have no idea what the fuck her mother’s doing.