Chapter 20 #2
Jo would be mortified—Nettie Lanahan is only our receptionist because she was Jo’s neighbor as a kid.
But she became a surrogate grandmother and remained close throughout Joanna’s life.
When her husband passed, she needed something to do to pass the time.
The practice was just about to open. The rest is history.
“Joanna loves me and would never believe it,” Mrs. Lanahan says, batting her eyelashes.
Handing over her own files, Rindy playfully rolls her eyes. “Either way, leave poor Oliver alone.”
“Uh-oh. Trouble with the redhead … ” Mrs. Lanahan sings as I turn to walk away.
Rindy grimaces in my direction, walking with me back toward our offices. “Have I apologized enough yet? If not, I will.” Every single conversation between us today has included at least three apologies. “Because I truly am so sorry, Ollie.”
Holding up my hands to silence her, I stop in the middle of the hallway. “Rindy, it’s really okay.”
“Really?” This woman’s sarcasm knows no bounds.
Sighing, I lower my hands. “Yes, really. It was something that was likely to come out anyway. It’s really okay. Neither of us are upset. I promise.”
Rindy nods. “So … when are you seeing her again?”
Pressing my lips together, I can barely suppress my smile. “I actually stayed with her last night.”
“With Nacho?”
“Of course.”
“Of course,” she waves, “go on.”
“I don’t want to ever be without her,” I continue, “so I was thinking about asking if she wanted to move in together.”
Rindy’s professionally tweezed eyebrows raise. “Are you sure about that? I mean, are you sure that’s not a little fast? How will Callie feel?”
I frown. “I don’t think it’s too fast.”
“And Callie?”
Hesitating, my frown deepens. I know it feels like the right decision. But could Rindy be right? Could Callie feel like this is moving too fast?
“You are obviously welcome to do what you like,” she says, “but I encourage you to think about all the factors here.”
“Like what, exactly?” I lean against the nearest wall for support as my friend lays out all the ways I might be an idiot.
“Like,” Rindy sighs, “do you know if she even wants to live with anyone before she gets married? Have you two even discussed marriage as a possibility? Or, she lives alone, right? What if she’s not ready to give up her personal space yet?
You’ve really only known one another for a little over a month.
Are you going to be okay if she doesn’t immediately jump at the chance to consolidate assets?
” My friend’s eyes roam my face with each dooming question.
“Look Ollie, I want you to be happy. I just don’t want you two to set yourselves up to fail. ”
“What do you suggest I do?” Folding my arms across my chest, I do my best not to act like she just ate the last piece of pie.
Rindy shrugs. “Maybe you should talk to someone else who’s been through a, um, whirlwind romance. And who’s successfully remained married for several decades.” She gives me a pointed look.
After thanking her, I finish up in my office and head to my car. Pulling out my phone, I dial the number and let them know I’m on my way.
As per tradition, my parents are home the day after Christmas and waiting for me in the living room when I arrive. Since neither are working today, they’re sitting in their respective chairs in lounge clothes when I walk through the door.
“What’s wrong?” Mom’s panicked voice would make me laugh on any other occasion.
“Geez, Sandra. Let the boy get in the house before you bombard him.” My dad takes a sip of his coffee. The twinkle in his eye is unmistakable.
My mom turns a withering glare in his direction.
“My son called me to say he has something important he needs to discuss, Marshall. What do you suggest I do? Bake him a cake?” She raises thin eyebrows at my dad who, smartly, remains silent.
She turns her worry back to me. “Do you want some coffee? Tea? Brownies?”
Unwinding my scarf and removing my coat, I shake my head. “No, thank you,” I say and take a seat on the couch.
Mom smacks Dad on the arm. “See? I told you. Something’s wrong. He’s refusing my brownies.”
Leaning forward, I place my elbows on my knees, wrapping my hands together. “Mom. Dad.”
Dad, whose eyes have been glued to the television, snaps his gaze my way. Slowly, he lifts the remote, pressing the power button.
“How did you know?” I ask. It feels like a frog has taken up residence in my throat. Maybe one of Callie’s plants invites all the neighborhood frogs to her apartment.
I’ll have to check when I get home.
Home.
“Know?” my dad repeats.
I nod. “You two barely knew each other. Only a couple of months, right?”
My parents exchange a look when Dad breaks out into a grin.
“Can’t say I’m too surprised, my boy. You looked head over heels for that girl the moment the two of you walked into this house on Thanksgiving,” he chuckles.
“And the way she doted on you, well,” he takes my mom’s hand, “all I can say is, it reminded me of someone else I know.”
Mom looks at him as if he’s the only other person on the planet before seeming to remember my presence. “Oliver, you just have to decide what’s right for you. And for Callie, of course.”
Wringing my hands together, a knot forms in my stomach about what has to come next. Especially since the Rutherfords know. “Well, there are, um, some things … that you aren’t … aware of.” Biting my lower lip, I feel like I’m in high school again.
Mom releases Dad’s hand, leaning forward. “Is Callie pregnant?”
Waving my hands around like a lunatic, I shake my head so fast my glasses nearly fly off. “What? No, nothing like that.” I don’t think.
“Then, Oliver Grant Rhodes, I would start talking.” That stare only a mother can accomplish threatens to burn a hole right through my head.
Sighing, I launch into the story from the beginning. With each new revelation, my face grows hotter. But to my parents’ credit, they sit there in silence as I spill my guts. By the time they’re up to speed, I feel ready to pass out.
Mom rubs her temples. “Oliver … ”
I flinch, waiting for the yelling to start, like with the Rutherfords. But it never comes.
Sighing, Mom lifts her head. “Honey, I am so sorry you felt like that’s what you had to resort to in order to make us happy.” After a couple moments of silence, she pokes Dad on the arm. “Marshall, say something.”
Shocked eyes look at his wife. “Like what? It’s honestly kinda hilarious. But it’s clearly turned into something that’s actually … something.”
“So,” my gaze flits between them, “how mad are you?”
Mom and Dad look at each other before looking back at me, but it’s Mom who speaks for them both. “We’re not mad.”
“Really?” Hope dares to bloom in my chest at not being sent to my room without supper.
“Really,” Dad answers. He sits up straighter in his chair. “Now, you wanted to know how we knew.”
I nod.
He beams at my mom, my favorite example of what love should look like.
Like what I’ve found with Callie.
“Son, everyone will have their own opinion on what you should do when you’re in love,” he continues.
“Where you should live, how long you should date, what steps you should take. Where you should try and meet your partner.” He gives me a pointed look.
“But, ultimately, it comes down to what you feel like is right for you and the person you decide to choose every single day for the rest of your life. Oliver, do you really love this girl?”
I’ve never been an emotional person. But my father’s question nearly brings tears to my eyes with how much love exists in my heart for this woman. “Yes.”
My father leans forward in his chair, eyes trained on me. “Then, son, what are you going to do about it?”