Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
MELISSA
“Melissa? Would that be okay?” my mother asks.
“Hmm?” We’re at the playground with Liam, who’s squealing with glee as I push him on the swing.
“Is it okay if Eileen gives her nephew your phone number?”
“What?” Without thinking, I push Liam a little harder, and he giggles. “Mom, why—”
“Eileen’s nephew would like to meet you,” Mom explains. “The optometrist, remember? She showed him a picture of you, and he was very interested.”
“Where did she get a picture of me?”
“I sent her one,” my mother says.
“Mom!” I exclaim. “I don’t need you to set me up with anyone.”
My mother clucks her tongue. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Melissa. People meet through friends all the time. It’s much safer than using one of those dating sites.”
“Mom, I’m not looking to date anyone right now.”
Except Austin Davenport, of course. I’ve thought of texting him to cancel our dinner plans tomorrow, because I’m terrified at the prospect of going on a date. It’s technically only our first date (the hockey game doesn’t count) so I doubt he’ll expect me to go home with him after, but still.
And I’ve debated whether I should tell him about my history with Luke, but I’ve managed to convince myself it’s not relevant. Luke’s moved on—Sloane’s clear proof of that—so he won’t care if Austin dates his high school ex.
“It doesn’t have to be a date, Melissa,” my mother insists, and I realize she’s still talking about the optometrist. “Just meet him for coffee or something.” She grins. “He told Eileen you were really pretty.”
“What photo did you send Eileen?”
“Oh, I don’t remember,” my mother says quickly. A little too quickly.
“A recent one?”
“I think it’s from a couple summers ago,” she admits.
Knowing my mom, she sent Eileen a photo of me from when I was at my fittest; tight and toned, with perfectly highlighted hair.
“So you’re hoping to pull a bait and switch on the optometrist nephew,” I say flatly.
“What?” my mother says with an awkward laugh. “Of course not.”
“But I don’t look the same as I did a couple summers ago,” I persist. “So if I meet this man for coffee, he’ll be disappointed that I don’t match my picture.”
“Melissa, it’s just a couple years,” she says dismissively. “You’ve barely changed.”
But I know I have. It was brought home to me last night, when I went through my closet for something to wear to dinner with Austin. Despite my efforts to diet, I still can’t zip up my favorite jeans.
And despite what she says, my mother clearly isn’t confident that my current looks could attract a man. If she was, she would have given Eileen a recent photo.
“More pushing, Mama!” Liam yells, and I realize his swing’s barely moving.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” I say, giving him another push before turning back to my mother. “I have a date tomorrow, actually.”
“Really?”
“Uh huh.” I didn’t plan to tell my mother about Austin, and I’ll probably regret it. But right now, the look on her face is worth it.
“Who is he? How did you meet?”
“He’s one of Sophie Kaminsky’s friends. You remember Sophie, from high school? I ran into her when Claire was in the hospital, and—”
But my mother isn’t interested in Sophie. “What’s his name? What does he do?”
“His name is Austin. He’s a plastic surgeon.”
There’s a beat of silence as my mother absorbs this. It’s almost like she’s disappointed that I managed to find a date without her help.
“Is it your first date?”
“Yep.” The hockey game really doesn’t count.
“You’ll be careful, won’t you?”
“Always. And like I said, Austin’s friends with Sophie.” He’s also friends with Luke, but there’s no point mentioning that to my mom.
“Mama, I want to get down,” Liam calls.
“Good timing, buddy,” I say as I catch his swing. “It’s time to go get your sister from school.”
My mother saves the rest of her questions about Austin for the following afternoon, when I drop the kids off for their sleepover. After I’ve kissed Claire and Liam goodbye, Mom follows me out to my car and asks for Austin’s full name and phone number.
“Just in case anything goes wrong,” she insists.
“Nothing will go wrong,” I insist. “He’s friends with Sophie, remember?”
There’s no way I’m giving my mother Austin’s phone number; I wouldn’t put it past her to call and invite him to a family dinner or something. I don’t regret moving home, but there are times when I wish my mother wasn’t so into my business.
My mother purses her lips. “Where are you going?”
“Mickey’s. It’s a new gastropub on Colborne.”
“I’ve heard it’s busy. I hope Austin made a reservation.”
“Well, if he didn’t, we’ll figure out something else.”
Mom nods. I can tell she’s preparing to ask another question, so I pre-empt her. “Thanks again for taking the kids tonight, Mom. Love you.” I give her a quick hug and move to my car door, and she reluctantly heads back into the house.
But now that I don’t have my kids to distract me, I’m free to wonder what I was thinking when I agreed to this dinner.
And to wonder what Austin was thinking. He seems like the type who would go for a girl like Olivia or Sloane, not a thirty-one-year-old mother of two who can’t zip up her favorite jeans.
I shower and blow-dry my hair, then shimmy into a clingy purple sweater and my third favorite pair of jeans (although maybe my new favorite, because they fit comfortably).
Austin picks me up promptly at seven, in a sleek red BMW with buttery leather seats.
It’s actually a lot like Troy’s car, but I resolve not to hold that against Austin.
The restaurant is buzzing, and the bar at the front is swarmed with young people.
The girls all seem to be wearing skimpy tops that showcase lean arms and toned midriffs.
An hour ago, I’d managed to convince myself my purple sweater was sexy because it shows a hint of cleavage, but now it seems positively demure.
Austin guides me through the crowd at the bar to the dining area, where the blonde hostess greets him warmly.
It turns out he does have a reservation, but from the way the hostess is looking at him, I bet she’d have found him a table regardless.
Austin takes a step closer to me and takes my hand, an unspoken message to the hostess that he’s not interested.
She swallows her disappointment and pastes a smile on her face as she leads us to a table.
“Is this okay?” Austin asks after we’re seated. “It’s not the fanciest restaurant, but the food’s delicious.”
“It’s great. I don’t own the right clothes for anything fancier.”
Austin laughs. “Noted. I’ll keep that in mind for next time. Maybe we could picnic or something.”
“Maybe.” I glance down at the menu, which is surprisingly extensive.
“I always get the burger and fries,” Austin suggests. “They do it really well here.”
“Sold.” I can start my diet again tomorrow.
“So,” Austin says. “What’s it like being back in your hometown?”
“Mostly good,” I say thoughtfully. “I’d never have been able to afford a house in Toronto, and I like having a yard for my kids.”
He nods. “How many kids do you have?”
“Two. Claire’s nine and Liam’s three.”
The waitress appears, a perky redhead with a nose ring, and I’m grateful for the interruption. I’ve never been great at small talk, and if I’m not careful, I’ll spend most of the date talking about my kids.
“So Sophie mentioned you’re a plastic surgeon?” I ask, after we’ve ordered burgers and beer.
“Yeah. The black sheep of the family.”
“The black sheep?” I repeat. Austin’s educated, personable, successful—a far cry from the stereotypical black sheep.
“Yeah.” Austin grins ruefully. “See, my dad’s a politician. A Member of Parliament for the Liberals.”
“Ah. Are the rest of your family in politics too?”
“No. Mom’s a family doctor who works in addictions, and my brother plans to join her practice when he finishes his residency. So that looks great on Dad’s website.”
“Ah.”
“And my sister’s an immigration lawyer who works with refugees, so that looks pretty good too.”
The waitress brings our drinks, and Austin takes a sip of beer before continuing. “And then there’s me, the guy who does nose jobs and breast enhancements to finance his BMW. I get a lot less space on Dad’s website.”
He speaks casually, as though it doesn’t bother him, but I can tell that it does.
“But not all plastic surgery is cosmetic, right?”
“Oh, sure,” Austin agrees. “There’s burn work, and reconstruction after cancer surgery. I do a fair number of skin cancer cases too. But the truth is, I like the cosmetic stuff. There’s an artistry to it.”
“I can see that.”
He nods. “Yeah. And I think if you do it right, you can do a lot of good.”
“Yeah?” I ask, unable to hide my skepticism.
“Yeah,” he says earnestly. “You can tell people that appearance doesn’t matter, that they shouldn’t worry about their crooked nose or big birthmark, but a lot of them won’t believe it. A procedure can change the way they see themselves, give them more confidence.”
“I guess so.” I sure can’t argue with him. I’d feel a lot more confident right now if I looked like Olivia does.
The waitress arrives with our food, and after a week of fairly disciplined dieting, the taste of the hamburger almost overwhelms me. My delight must show on my face, because Austin grins.
“Told you it was good,” he says with a smirk.
“It’s delicious.” And it’s all I can do to keep from inhaling it, which wouldn’t be a great look on a first date. I take a sip of beer and let my gaze wander around the pub—and almost drop my drink.
Luke is leaning against the bar, looking good enough to eat in a brown leather jacket and jeans. On his right, a scantily dressed blonde is flirting her heart out, and on his left, a brunette is trying to catch his attention. But Luke’s eyes are on me.
“So tell me more about your kids,” Austin says, and I drag my attention back to him.
“Well, Liam loves all forms of transportation,” I start. “Cars, trucks, buses, you name it. He loved to ride the subway when we lived in Toronto.”