by Kris Jayne
Curiosity finally got the better of me. “So, how did you meet Sienna Joy, Terrence?”
Eniola’s irritation ratcheted her angry sniffing up a notch, and she jumped in before he could respond. “He injured himself playing basketball and had to go to physical therapy.”
Terrence didn’t appear to mind his mother’s intrusion and laughed. “Yes. My weekend warrior act caught up with my old back and old ankles. The doctor suggested some PT and massage to address the problem before we went the surgical route. That’s how I met Sienna Joy.”
“I wasn’t his therapist,” she added quickly. “I don’t date patients, but he was in the office all the time and we’d chat. So, I asked him out.”
Delilah’s brows shot up. “You asked him out?”
“Of course. I liked him, and I’m not old-fashioned about that kind of thing.”
“Or anything,” Eniola mumbled, earning her a patient sigh from Sienna Joy.
“No. I am unconventional, but we hit it off anyway.”
“We did.”
Delilah responded to the grin on Terrence’s face with a flurry of disbelieving blinks. Her mouth parted. “You did…so…really? That’s great.”
I hoped it was just the oddness of the pairing and not jealousy that left her stumbling and took the sincerity out of her words. She said they’d broken up without any animosity. They didn’t have any of that marital tension between them.
“So how did the two of you meet?” Terrence asked.
Delilah tensed again, and I glanced at her, wondering if she regretted having me tag along to this fun family breakfast.
Chapter 11
Delilah
Terrence asked how Griffin and I met, then swirled his toast in the broken yolk of his eggs Benedict. Three swirls and then a bite. He’d eaten his favorite breakfast dish the exact same way for twenty-five years.
Griffin looked at me expectantly, and I sighed. Our story would go down about as well as Katerina’s announcement about the wedding date.
Explaining that I was dating my former boss? I braced myself for the onslaught of opinion although Terrence would have to cut me some slack, right? Eniola didn’t seem too excited about the “unconventional” massage therapist.
When my ex introduced his new girlfriend this morning as “Sienna Joy,” Griffin had replied, “Nice to meet you, Sienna.”
She shook her head. “It’s Sienna Joy. That’s actually my name.”
“Oh,” I’d said. “No last name?”
She laughed. “Oh, no. Last names are about ownership. I belong only to myself.”
“I see your point,” I replied. And I did. Still, I wondered what she put on her taxes or what she’d do if she and Terrence married. I had to fight to get Mother Johnston not to address her Christmas card to “Mr. and Mrs. Terrence Johnston and family” as if I had neither a first nor last name of my own.
Maybe Sienna Joy didn’t believe in marriage, and she and Terrence would live in sin. I twisted my lips sideways to keep from laughing. No way.
The question wasn’t how did Griffin and I get together. It was how in God’s name did they?
My wool-gathering only intensified the scrutiny, and Sienna Joy leaned in, excited. “Spill. I love hearing how people find love.”
I switched my gaze between them, marveled at how they put up with each other, and swallowed my blueberry pancake.
“Griffin and I knew each other from work,” I began. “I was an executive assistant at a company acquired by his. When we brought the two companies together, they reduced the administrative staff and gave me a few execs to support. And—”
“And he was your superior?” Eniola popped in. The silk draping on her hat teetered with disapproval.
“Never,” Griffin laughed and draped an arm on the back of my chair. “But she did work for me and a couple of other executives. That’s only how we met.”
“Our relationship was strictly professional, and I left in October,” I added.
“I called her in December about helping with another business I’m starting,” he said.
Heat scratched my cheeks as if I were being attacked by a tiger with fire for claws. I couldn’t say that we’d slept together before even having a proper date and that we’d been together for, shit, only a week. The fire tiger made its way down my torso and began gnawing at my clenched stomach. I put my fork down and drank some ice water, then continued with a tailored version of the story.
“We started talking and realized that we were interested in each other, so I invited him over for Christmas dinner, and—”
Sienna Joy eased forward. She clapped her hands and then flashed them jazz style in a flight of drama. “And you’ve been inseparable ever since, instantly knowing you’re meant to be together.”
“Not exactly,” I tittered. “Griffin had to go back home to North Carolina for a family emergency, but we’ve talked and…I don’t know.”
I chuckled and shrugged.
Griffin swirled his fingers on my upper arm. “You’d be surprised how much you can connect over the phone. Hasn’t that been a surprise, Delilah?”
Mock romanticism saucered his eyes, and he grinned at me with bemusement.
I fiddled with the stiff corner of the faux linen napkin draped on my lap. “Very unexpected,” I said and coughed.
“Is there some kind of story there?” Terrence asked. The level of suspicion in his voice was more surprising than Griffin’s mischievous comments.
Maybe Terrence’s negative attitude had something to do with Carter. That’s the story with some holes in it, but Griffin hadn’t wanted to talk about it now. Later.
“No. We’ve grown closer with all he’s gone through this week,” I replied.
“I find it odd that you’re so quick to start carrying on with your boss,” my ex-mother-in-law said. “And he’s so young.”
“Grandma!” Katerina exclaimed.
“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business, but I’m not sure why I’m having to endure a family event with some young man you’ve only been dating for a week who looks at you like the two of you might…” Eniola’s finger pointing morphed into a backward wave of her hand before she pressed it to the triple swag of pearls on her abundant bosom. I watched her fingertips carefully, but amazingly, she didn’t quite clutch them.
I paused to breathe in the courage to say what I needed to with diplomacy. I no longer had to kowtow to the woman. I maintained a respectful manner with her because she was older and Kat’s grandmother, but she wasn’t anything to me anymore. I didn’t need her approval, and given all her rules and regulations, I didn’t want it either. It might have taken twenty years to get to this point, but I wasn’t going to backslide now.
“Mother Johnston, Griffin isn’t that much younger than I am. He’s a grown man, and we didn’t do anything inappropriate. I don’t work for him or anyone. I’m single, and I can see whomever I want. I guess, like Sienna Joy, I belong to myself.”
The new object of Mrs. Johnston’s disdain gave me a supportive chin nod but stayed silent. Eniola’s hat started waggling again.
“Others may not be, but I am old-fashioned. In my day, you didn’t throw away twenty years of marriage and start dating women who rub on people for a living or men who run off from their families and don’t speak to their fathers,” the older woman continued.
Is that what they’d heard about Griffin? Was that from Carter? I’d never met him, so I had no idea how close he was to Terrence or to Griffin’s family, but it seemed he was talking an awful lot about things that weren’t his business. No wonder Griffin reacted the way he had when Terrence mentioned him.
Griffin’s reddening jaw flexed. “Ah, that’s the ‘story’ you heard, huh? Well, my family dynamics are more complicated than that and, truly, none of anyone’s business.”
Terrence cut in, suddenly embarrassed. “I’m sorry I mentioned anything that Carter said to me. You were right earlier, man. I’m too old to be gossiping like middle scho
oler.”
But Eniola wasn’t ready to let the conversation go. “How we know it doesn’t change what we heard. You can’t be serious about this, this, this,” she glared at Delilah and flailed, “lightweight, entitled boy over a decade your junior. I thought you’d managed to outrun your troubled upbringing and avoid living up to that horrid name. What kind of example does that set for Katerina? No wonder she’s being so impulsive.”
She finished, and her lips pinched. Her church-lady hat slowly stilled over her face, which shone with the fire of a disapproving pastor castigating the sinners in his midst.
A familiar mix of shame and indignation trapped the breath in my chest.
No, I didn’t know who my father was. Yes, my mother was an addict who dumped me with my grandparents to set herself free of me as much as to give me a stable life. But Mama and Papa raised me well and worked hard to set me up to live a life to make them proud. I had done that. My mother’s shame or my father’s—whoever he was—wasn’t mine. Or Katerina’s. She could do whatever she wanted as long as it made her happy. So could I. I’d say all of that to this woman with her judging eyes, but I didn’t want to—again. Instead, Katerina and my ex stumbled through their objections.
“Gigi, that’s not fair,” Kat exclaimed as her father spoke.
“Mama, you know how I feel about your bringing up Delilah’s history—”
Griffin’s voice, steady and low, interrupted my ex. “What history does Delilah have to be ashamed of? She is a smart, kind, upstanding person. I’ve known her for two years, and I know she takes her responsibilities and her vows seriously. When I started working with her, there wasn’t a single person—not one—who didn’t sing her praises. She’d been there for two decades. Everyone respects her and loves her and has missed her work ethic and intelligence and open-heartedness since she’s been gone. It’s who she is. I won’t let you smear her over outdated ideas about her birth or over her name, which, for the record, is perfectly beautiful.”
Griffin took my hand. Everyone at the table was aghast and silent, so he continued.
“Divorces happen, and I think it’s a testament to both Delilah and Terrence that you can all stay cordial and have family time for Katerina’s sake.”
Terrence nodded and stared down his stalwart mother. “I know you don’t approve of our divorce or of Sienna Joy.” He stopped to squeeze his girlfriend’s hand. “Or Griffin, I suppose. But we’re here as a family and that matters. Do you want to run off poor Adrian before he and Katerina can even get to ‘I do’?”
“Poor Adrian” jumped at the mention of his name, but he managed a limp smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”
It was a tiny statement, but one that cemented my opinion of my future son-in-law. If he could survive the judgmental, self-righteous outbursts of his wife’s “Gigi,” then he was well-prepared to be a member of the Johnston family.
The conversation pivoted away from my alleged past, and Griffin leaned over.
“Was I too much? I didn’t want to go too far. She’s elderly, and this isn’t my family,” he said.
I abandoned my restraint and kissed him. The soft touch of his lips on mine dispersed decades of tension. Sanitizing light from the window poured in, glowing around him.
“You were not too much. No one—not even Terrence—has ever defended me like that to her.” I had to force the words out past the emotional lump growing in my throat.
“It probably helps that she isn’t my mother,” Griffin whispered.
“No. It helps that you have more spine than he does.”
“It probably helps that she isn’t my mother,” he repeated with a chuckle.
“Probably.”
And I laughed with him, reveling in the joy of having him on my side.
Chapter 12
Delilah
I had three weeks of intense preparation before I joined Griffin in North Carolina. I decided to stop booking new client appointments until after I returned from the wedding planning trip to France over Katerina and Adrian’s spring break. The final week before the trip was packed with client meetings, so I could fill my coffers before taking the time off. Griffin offered to pay extra for my week-long relocation, but that felt way too Pretty Woman, so I told him I’d be fine.
Between two visits, I squeezed in a lunch with Clarissa. She stood by the hostess stand talking to a tall, frosty blonde when I arrived at our favorite bistro.
“Hey, Delilah! I hope you don’t mind, I invited Vivienne to have lunch with us.”
“No problem. I’m Delilah Johnston.”
“Vivienne Moran.” She extended her hand and a warm smile.
While we shook hands, Clarissa furthered the introduction. “I met Vivienne a few years ago at a friend’s party. She’s an interior designer,” she said.
Vivienne nodded. “When she mentioned she had a friend with an organizing business, I asked her for an introduction. I’m getting more and more requests for that kind of thing, but it’s not exactly what I do, you know? But I’d love to be able to refer clients to someone and then work on the design side of things—custom interiors, furniture, storage, that sort of thing.”
“Wonderful. I’ll have to get you some business cards. Remind me when we leave. I have a couple in my purse, but I have a stash in my car,” I said, then mouthed a thank you to Clarissa when Vivienne turned to follow the hostess to our table.
We settled in with our menus, and Clarissa beamed about our New Year’s Eve.
“We had such a great time at Delilah’s new…What are we calling him? Is he a boyfriend yet?”
I laughed. “I guess so. It’s all moving kind of quickly, but sure. Griffin’s my boyfriend.”
Vivienne perked up. “Griffin?”
“Kelso, right?” Clarissa supplied.
“Yeah.” I cruised down the salads, picking one and closing my menu.
The sleek blonde flipped her blunt cut hair behind her ear. “I know Griffin. He’s friends with my brother. How’s his father doing? I heard he had a heart attack.”
“Fine. He’s been home since a few days after Christmas. I don’t think it was an actual heart attack. Everyone keeps calling it an ‘episode.’ But he’s getting back to work. Griffin flew back to help with company business a couple of weeks ago. I’m headed there myself next week.”
“Really? That much of a family reunion?” Vivienne’s brows rose in surprise.
“I’m going because he and I were working on a project together, and since he’s relocating for a couple of months, that’s where we’re working. I’m kind of doing him a favor to help him organize his business.” A paid favor, but I didn’t see the need to get into it.
“I didn’t know he and his father were on good terms, but I suppose that’s good news,” she said. “How long have you been dating?”
I laughed and chewed the edge of my lip. “A few weeks. I had him over for Christmas dinner, and we’ve been seeing how things go.”
“A whirlwind,” Vivienne said, grinning.
“Sort of. I used to work with him, so I’ve known him for a couple of years.”
“Well, good for you. If find someone you like, why wait around playing games?” she asked.
I scanned her hand for a ring to signal her status and found nothing.
“Thank you. I keep trying to talk myself out of feeling rash and irresponsible, but I was married for over twenty years. I’ve been separated and divorced for a little over two. Everything about dating feels awkward.”
“I know what you mean. I’ve never been married, but I came out a few years ago, and suddenly, dating was this completely different animal. It turns out all I knew how to do was pretend to like men and be arm candy at social events. Those skills don’t exactly help you navigate the lesbian bar scene,” she said with a dry laugh.
“Maybe the bar scene is the problem. Is that a way to meet people, sorry, but at our age?” Clarissa asked.
Vivienne smoothed her hair behind one ear. “No, but it
’s preferable to being continuously set up by one’s mother on dates with any lesbian she trips over at the grocery store or her tennis club. I used to agree because I appreciated her support, but now, I’m hiding.” Vivienne held the menu in front of her face and pulled it down carefully, darting her eyes back and forth, then laughed. “Is she here? I can’t fight my way through any more sushi dates with golf pros.”
I cackled until my side hurt as Vivienne detailed some of her more interesting fix-ups. “God, that does sound like a nightmare. I grew up with my grandparents, and I loved them, but they would have picked the worst men for me to date. They also would probably want me to have my head examined for dating a guy ten years younger with a history of dating every cheerleader from here to the Laker Girls.”
“It’s not that bad. He’s just a man—and a handsome one at that. He’s had options, but he’s a good egg. If he’s taking you home to North Carolina, then he must adore you,” Vivienne assured me.
“Maybe.”
“If it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t,” Clarissa declared. “Have some fucking fun for once. It doesn’t have to be serious.”
“You’re right,” I said. But what if I wanted it to be? I’m not sure I knew how to date casually.
“You deserve to have fun, and he makes you smile,” my friend said.
“He does.” I pressed my lips together to keep from grinning again.
Vivienne merely looked on as Clarissa chastised me.
“You don’t have to take dating as seriously as you do everything else.”
“I don’t take everything seriously,” I said.
“No comment,” Clarissa replied. “Does the age difference bother you for real or are you joking?”
“When we’re together, I don’t notice it, but when I think about where he is in his life versus where I am with mine, I freak out. I have a grown daughter who’s about to get married and graduate from college. Most guys his age who want to settle down want to have kids. I can’t start over with that.”