13. Thirteen #2
I grinned. She was singular in her interests at times. “Alcoholic or non-alcoholic?”
She gave me a flirty look, although she likely didn’t realize it was flirty. She never realized when she was flirting. She was always just Wylie being Wylie. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “With you, I can never tell.”
She laughed and shook her head. “It’s alcoholic.”
“What are the ingredients?”
“Well, you can make it with vodka or gin,” she started.
“What’s it mixed with? That determines if you want to go with vodka or gin.”
“Blue Curacao and grapefruit bitters.”
“Is that it?”
“And Ginger beer or ginger ale.”
That sounded awful, regardless, but I shrugged. “Definitely vodka.”
“Do you want to drink it with me?” She actually looked nervous to ask the question.
“You want to drink Romulan Ale with me?” Worries about how disgusting the concoction sounded immediately flew out the window.
“Only if you want to.”
I grinned. “I guess I could try some Romulan Ale.” Something occurred to me. “Only if you promise not to speak Klingon, though.”
To my surprise, a mischievous grin took over her features. “Oh, I’m going to speak Klingon. You know I’m going to have to.”
“But … it’s weird.”
“You like it, and you know it.”
Because she was right, all I could do was stare in her wake. “Fine, but I’m never speaking it. I need you to come to terms with that.”
She didn’t look at me. She just danced her way to another grave. “Never say never.”
I MADE A RESERVATION FOR THE following day at The Olde Pink House. I’d used my mother’s agent, who was the mother of my agent, because she was good at cutting through bullshit to get what she wanted. She secured the reservation within 10 minutes.
Then I tried not to think about what drinking Romulan Ale with Wylie would entail. That was a nighttime endeavor, right? We wouldn’t do that in the middle of the afternoon.
Thankfully, I didn’t have too much time to get worked up about that situation, because my mother called to distract me.
“Hello, darling,” she practically purred when I picked up. “How is my favorite boy?”
She always asked that question. It was as if she were contractually obligated or something. “I’m good,” I replied, and for the first time, I realized that I was telling the truth when I said it. “How is Jules?” I asked, referring to her current husband.
“Oh, he’s … fine.” Mom’s voice had an edge that told me Jules wasn’t fine. No, Jules would be out by the end of summer. He would leave with a small parting gift thanks to the prenup my mother forced him to sign. Then she would never mention him again.
“Fine, huh?”
“Don’t start,” she chided, managing a little laugh. “If I want to get divorced, I’m going to get divorced. You know that better than anybody.”
I definitely knew that. “You know you don’t have to get married whenever you find a new man, correct?”
“I like being married, Huxley. What do you want me to say?”
I wanted her to say that I wouldn’t have to meet her next husband. It wasn’t as if I got attached to them — I’d only ever gotten attached to one, although I hadn’t even realized it at the time — but I didn’t want to go out of my way to get to know them either. It was tiresome.
“It doesn’t matter,” I replied. “What else is going on with you?” I flopped on the couch.
“I’m working on a new trilogy,” she replied. “I think it’s going to be big.”
“Yeah? I’m glad.”
“How are things for you?” she asked.
“I’m ahead of deadline. I’ve been working pretty steadily.” I thought about writing with Wylie and smiled. She was adorable when she got to brainstorming. The way she chewed on her thumb when she thought she had something really exciting was amazing.
“You haven’t been making it all about work, have you?” she asked. “You’re in a fun place, Huxley. Not everything should be about work.”
“I’ve been exploring the town, too,” I assured her. “Just today I visited a cemetery to look around, and I had my fortune told a few weeks ago.” Immediately, I wanted to take it back. It was too late, though. I’d said too much.
“You went to a cemetery? That doesn’t sound like you. Who did you go with?”
I had to dig myself out of this hole, and I had to do it fast. “There are a lot of authors here,” I replied. “I’ve met a few through those reader events we’re doing every two weeks. I told you about those.”
“Yes, those reader events are so successful that they want to launch some up here. They don’t sound fun to me.”
“I don’t know.” I pictured the way Wylie interacted with her readers, how she wowed them without even realizing what she was doing. “I enjoy them.”
“And you’ve met other writers? Anybody I know?”
I didn’t want to lie to her. My mother was the sort of person who could take the truth, however brutal. I didn’t mention Wylie, though. Because of the situation with Agnes, that was a different matter entirely. I didn’t want to get my mother going. There was little she loved more than a good rant.
“Do you know Brody Bates or Bree James?”
“I’m familiar with the names, although I’ve never met them. Their love story made the rounds a few years ago. I’ve seen photos, and they’re adorable.”
“They’re kind of gross in person with how schmaltzy they are, but I like them both. Bella Oakley and Nathan Cooper are married, too. He’s a bit of a goof, but they’re fun to hang out with.”
“Before he fell in love with her, he had a reputation as a ladies’ man on the conference circuit,” Mom mused. “I was considering taking a run at him between husbands. Alas, he was taken off the market too soon.”
I tried not to picture my mother making Nathan yet another stepfather. “Well, too bad for you, I guess,” I said dryly, eliciting a laugh from her.
“I’m glad you’re making friends and seeing the city,” she said. “I never expected you to go to a fortune teller, though. Which one of them talked you into that?”
“Oh, there’s a group of us who hang out together,” I said.
That was the wrong thing to say. She picked up on my evasiveness right away. “You found a woman.” She didn’t phrase it as a question.
“No, I didn’t.” I shook my head even though she couldn’t see it. “I found friends. We’re just hanging out.”
“What’s her name?”
“Mother, there is no woman.” I was adamant. “Don’t make this weird. Men and women can hang out together without it turning into a thing.”
“What’s her name?” she repeated.
Sensing trouble, I took a shot in the dark. “Hayley Clifton.” I prayed she’d heard of the name.
“The clean and wholesome romance writer?” she asked after a beat.
“Yes, we’ve become fast friends.”
“The lesbian?”
I didn’t particularly like the judgment in her tone, but I was committed to this route. “One and the same,” I confirmed.
“Oh, you really are friends with a woman.” Her disappointment was palpable.
Laughter burbled out of me. “Sorry to disappoint.” I wasn’t, but she needed to think I was. “Right now, it’s just hanging out with friends. If I do find someone to date, you’ll be the first to know.”
“No, I won’t. You never tell me when you’re dating.”
“Huh, I wonder why.” I kicked back on the couch. “Tell me the plan for divorcing Jules,” I prompted. I needed to get her on another subject.
“I didn’t say I was ready to divorce him.”
I just waited her out.
“Fine. I’m totally going to divorce him. Do you have to be right about everything?”
I thought about Wylie again. “You know what, Mom? I’m starting to come to the realization that I’ve been wrong about a lot of things in my life.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my son?”
“Very funny.”