Chapter 5
“U
rgh,” Dylan grunts, in the way only a thirteen-year-old boy can. “This is such a waste of a Friday evening.”
“It’ll be more fun than you think,” I say as we walk up the steps to the huge green front door of the main house. “Maggie and Jim have been good to us, so if she wants to invite us to dinner, it’s the least we can do.”
Though, if Maggie hadn’t assured me Tom was in Boston for the evening, I sure as hell would have found a reason for us not to be here.
“Not as fun as thrashing Ling at Overlord Hybrids,” Dylan says. “Especially when I don’t have to get up tomorrow. Such a waste.”
Jesus. That goddamn video game is the only thing he and his friend Ling think about. At least it keeps him out of trouble. Usually. I’ve been called to the school a couple times since we moved out of Nicholas’s house—once about Dylan being “disruptive” in a history class, and once when he and another boy had a paint fight in the art room.
Part of me thinks kids will be kids, but I also know crap like that needs nipping in the bud.
“It’ll be good for you to spend one evening not staring at a screen. And if you play any more of that game, you’ll end up looking like one of those robot things.”
“They’re assimilators, Mom,” he says like I’m the most uncool person alive. “Assimilators.”
I put my arm around him as we reach the top step. “Right. Well, you can play that any other night. Tonight, it would make me very happy if you could be charming to the lovely people who’ve put this fabulous roof over our heads while we wait for Rachel’s house to be ready.”
He stares at his feet in silence.
“Dyl?” I tip up his chin till he has no choice but to look at me.
Every time I look at this beautiful face, the face that lights up my existence, infuriates me, makes me laugh till my stomach hurts, frustrates me, gives me a reason for getting up every day and putting one foot in front of the other, and fills me with more love than I thought could exist in the whole universe, I want to cave and give him everything he wants.
But that would make me a terrible parent. And since he already has one of those, I’ve always intended to be the exact opposite. So this evening, even though I’d love to make him happy by spending the evening zapping alien invaders, I’m determined he’s going to learn something about gratitude.
“For me. Please?” I ask.
He snorts and shrugs.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
As I haul open the front door, lively chatter from the kitchen reaches us.
Chatter that brings me to a dead stop half way across the foyer, and fills my stomach with a heavy rock of ice.
“What?” Dylan asks, pausing beside me.
I hold my finger to my lips to shush him and strain my ears.
Tom.
That’s his voice.
Tom is in the fucking kitchen.
With his half-Boston, half-British accent. Christ, it’s a heady combo that must make knees on two continents tremble. I lock mine firmly into place. But I have less control over my heart, which sputters as it finds a higher gear. I struggle out of my coat, the chill from being outside suddenly replaced by a full-body sweat.
“Why are you all pink?” Dylan asks.
“It’s warm in here,” I say quietly, flicking my eyes back to the front door and wondering if we can sneak out without anyone noticing and I can call and say Dylan’s not well and I have to stay with him.
At the end of the hallway, Jim’s head pops around the kitchen door. “Aha!” he says with a wide grin. “Thought I heard the door squeak. Have to oil that.”
Shit.
But maybe Tom’s about to leave. Admittedly, it’s a little late for getting to a gig in the city, but in a lot of the cool venues the good acts don’t start till about eleven, so yes, maybe that’s what’s happening and he’s on his way out and everything will be fine.
“You give me your coat, young lady,” Jim says, approaching with his arms outstretched. “Did you come here in just that?” He nods at Dylan’s sweatshirt.
“We only walked from just there,” Dylan says, pointing to the right.
I nudge him and shoot him a look he’s all too familiar with as Jim takes my coat.
“I mean, yeah, it’s cold,” Dylan forces out. “But I’m fine.” He looks up at me, and I administer the nod that indicates there’s still something he hasn’t said. “Thanks,” he adds.
As Jim turns to hang my coat in the hall closet, I give Dylan an appreciative smile.
“Well, come in, come in,” Jim says, heading back to the kitchen and beckoning us with enthusiastic arm waves.
We cross the threshold, and there he is. Tom. Standing in the middle of the room. When I saw him the day before yesterday, he was half hidden by the kitchen island. But now, I get the full top-to-bottom view for the first time—with clothes on, anyway.
He’s taller than when he was naked and curled in on himself.
And his shoulders are broader and squarer than they looked when he was hunched over his brunch at the island. The gray long-sleeved T-shirt stretches from one shoulder to the other by way of some firm-looking pecs.
His hair is a little fluffy at the ends, like it’s freshly washed, and his chin is shadowed with stubble that gives the impression he last shaved in London.
He shoves his hands into his jeans pockets and digs his teeth into his cushiony bottom lip. Not a trace of a smile. Definitely not pleased to see us. Nor does he look like he’s about to go out.
“Oh, how lovely, you’re here,” Maggie says, even though she saw me about two hours ago when I was mopping this very floor.
“Thank you for inviting us,” I say.
Tom looks directly at Maggie. “Yes. And such a…surprise.” He tilts his head and widens his eyes to emphasize the last word.
“Oh, yes. I got all the days confused.” Maggie waves her hand in front of her face. “Since I stopped working, I can barely tell one end of the week from the other.” She turns to me. “Tom was actually out last night, not tonight.”
“Oh, it’s okay,” I chip in quickly before anyone changes their mind. “We can go.”
Hallelujah. Glory be. Thank the angels. A way out.
“Yes,” Dylan chimes in, already halfway back to the kitchen door. “Thank you, I mean. Thank you.”
“Oh, no, it’s totally fine. Please stay,” Maggie says. “Entirely my mistake.” She shakes her head and dramatically rolls her eyes. “Silly me.”
Tom’s head turns, oh so slowly, until his gaze meets mine. One corner of his mouth twitches.
I know what he’s thinking. He knows what I’m thinking. It’s like our brains are still tied together, like something invisible still connects them across this room all these years later.
And we’re thinking the exact same thing.
We’re being had.
“Honestly, Maggie, it’s okay. Really.” Everything inside me relaxes a little, safe in the knowledge that, at this moment, Tom and I are on the same side. We both want out of this. “You guys haven’t had the opportunity for a relaxed family evening together yet. Tom must have been too tired the first night, and if he was out last night, well, this evening is your first chance. And we absolutely wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“No. No intruding,” Dylan agrees, now back by my side.
“Well, actually,” Maggie says.
“Yes, there’s another thing,” Jim adds, as if reciting rehearsed lines.
Tom steps toward the island, rests his forearms on it, and looks at Maggie and Jim. “Oh, do go on.”
Now I have a full side view as his butt sticks out, his jeans pulling tight across it and hugging his thighs.
“Such a coincidence,” Maggie says, turning away to pick up her purse from the counter behind her. “But I already got us movie tickets for this evening, and it starts in an hour, so Jim and I have to head out.”
Tom’s head drops forward and almost hits the counter, those spectacular shoulders shuddering slightly as he stifles a chuckle.
“Yes, planned it for weeks,” Jim says. “Like Mags says, we lose track of the days these days.”
Christ, they’re planning to leave me and Dylan here with Tom. Holy shit, no.
“Okay, well not to worry.” I put my arm around Dylan. “We can do this some other time. We’ll head?—”
“Oh, no.” Maggie rushes toward us, pushing past Jim.
“Yes. No,” Jim says.
“I already made all the food before I remembered about the movie.” She points at the fridge. “You must stay and eat it. Way too much for us.”
“Yes, we must get going,” Jim says, taking the car keys off the hook by the fridge. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing the next Lord of the Hybrid.”
Dylan’s body tenses against me. He can’t help himself and lets out a loud gasp. “Overlord Hybrids? You going to see the new Overlord Hybrids movie?”
“That’s the one,” Jim says.
“Yes, we saw the first one on TV last week,” Maggie says. “By accident, of course. So terrible with technology. And enjoyed it. So thought we’d treat ourselves to catching number two on the big screen.”
“Oh my God.” Dylan’s mouth is open wide enough for me to shove my whole fist in there. Which I just might have to do to shut him up. To him, Maggie and Jim have just become entirely different people—ones worthy of the respect of any decent teenage alien zapper.
Tom rises leisurely from the island and places his hands on his hips, just above his belt. “You watched the first Overlord Hybrids film?” he asks, with slow, drawn-out skepticism. “And enjoyed it so much you bought tickets to see the sequel at the movie theater?”
“Yup,” Maggie says.
“Absolutely,” Jim adds as if, heaven forfend, anyone should imagine something different. “Amazing, you know…cinematography and…stuff.”
Tom’s eyes meet mine again, and he flicks his brows at me, sending a shudder rippling from my chest to my belly. Which is not good. Not good at all.
“Wow,” Dylan says, pulling away from me. “Wow. So cool.”
“Well now, young man.” Maggie rests a hand on his shoulder. “The thing is, like I said, I’m terrible with technology. Particularly at online ordering. And by total accident?—”
“Oh, do let me guess,” Tom says from behind her.
Maggie ignores him, and focuses on Dylan. “I bought three tickets instead of two.”
Dylan bounces and grabs my arm with a grip that instantly cuts the blood flow to my hand. “Can I, Mom?” It’s hard to tell which is wider, his eyes or his mouth. “Can I? Please.”
Christ, how many parts am I being torn into right now?
One part is all wobbly at the sight of Tom struggling not to laugh, though I’m positive that deep down he’s also a bit pissed off. Another part is furious and outraged that I’m being set up in a way I can’t get out of without appearing incredibly ungrateful. And another is so overwhelmed by Dylan looking the happiest he’s been since we fled to Blythewell that I might be about to burst into tears.
Actually, all three parts make me want to cry.
I swallow hard and take a breath. “Can you what?” My son’s face is full of hope. “No one’s invited you to do anything yet.”
“Would you like the third ticket, Dylan?” Maggie asks. She places her other hand gently on my arm. “If your mom doesn’t mind, of course. But we promise to take good care of you.”
Knowing the five boys she raised—well, four, after Tom went to London—I’m absolutely certain she could cope for one evening with a thirteen-year-old who’d spend the whole time staring at the big screen in rapt silence.
How can I possibly say no? “Of course. And that’s very thoughtful of you, Maggie.”
It kind of is. And it’s also kind of infuriating. But once they’ve left, I can go straight back next door. I’m sure Tom doesn’t want to spend the evening with me any more than I want to spend it with him.
“Oh, Tom,” Jim says. “I keep forgetting to ask. I think the frost got to the outdoor tap Maggie uses for filling up the watering can. Could you take a look at it sometime?”
Tom opens his mouth, but I get in there first. “I noticed that and fixed it yesterday, Jim. The washer was cracked, so I replaced it. And I’ve wrapped the whole thing in bubble wrap to insulate it. Should be good now.” The skills you learn when you have no money and have to fix everything yourself go a long way.
Tom’s mouth is still open.
Jim’s smile is broad. “Oh, thank you.” He turns to Tom. “She’s always sorting things out before we even know they need sorting. Such a treasure.” He pats the back of my shoulder as he walks by toward the door.
“Well.” Jim jangles the keys. “Hybrid Lords, here we come.”
“Overlord Hybrids,” Dylan corrects, breaking into a trot behind him.
“Hey, Dylan,” I shout after him. “Go to your room to get your ear plugs first.”
“Sure.” His reply trails off as he disappears out the front door with Jim.
“Don’t worry,” Maggie says, full of gentle motherly concern. “I’ll make sure he wears them. Now. You two,” she says purposefully, spreading her arms as if trying to pull Tom and me together. “All the food is prepared. It’s in the fridge. All cold. No cooking to do. Just enjoy it.”
“Oh, honestly,” I say, avoiding Tom’s brown eyes. There’s no way I’m having dinner with him. How could I sit across the table from a man who treated me the way he did? And a man I kind of yelled at the other day. I mean, who’d want to spend time with a girlfriend abandoner who looks so irritatingly sexy in a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans? “I’ll just?—”
“Please.” Maggie looks from me to Tom and back to me. “Enjoy.”
She lifts her purse strap from the crook of her elbow up to her shoulder and trots through the kitchen door. “Wait for me!” she calls as she disappears. “You know how I love those robots.”
There’s now nowhere else for my gaze to fall but on Tom as we stand facing each other and fold our arms across our chests at the exact same time.