“Shit.” I threw an apologetic smile towards Will. “I had no clue they were coming.” I kept my voice at a whisper.
Luckily, he was grinning and not freaking out at the situation like some guys would have been. “The least I can do is go rinse my mouth out with water,” Will murmured.
Meanwhile, I tried to decide if waiting out my parents and pretending I didn’t hear them would convince them to leave.
“There are new toothbrushes under the sink, if you want, and toothpaste in the drawer,” I offered in the same quiet tone. It was absurd that I’d have to whisper as an adult in my own home. But I couldn’t deny that I felt as though I’d just been caught by my parents.
He smiled in thanks before retreating down the hall.
Taking a deep breath before opening the door, I was unprepared for the immediate engulfing hugs from my parents. I let them in and asked the question I felt inevitable considering it was nine o’clock on a Sunday morning and they’d arrived without notice. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Surprising you, that’s what.” My dad wheeled in his suitcase.
My mother patted me on the cheek, sympathy etched in her features. “We received a text from Michael last night.”
What the hell? My ex was texting my parents now?
“What did he say?” My voice was calm, but in my mind I was plotting a very grisly death for the man. If he thought he’d manipulate me or my decisions by going to my parents like I was twelve, he had another thing coming.
“He said he’d upset you last night and that we might want to give you a call to make certain you were doing okay. He didn’t think you wished to hear from him. So we decided, why not take a quick flight down to see you instead?” my father offered.
“Oh.” Well, that deflated my anger somewhat. Although it might be more convenient to hate my ex-husband, he wasn’t the sort of guy who really inspired that emotion. Was he selfish at times? Absolutely. Did he have awful timing in confronting me last night? Yes, definitely. But he didn’t try to be an asshole on purpose. Most of the time. Ironically, it might’ve been easier if he had.
“I’d say you’re doing a lot better than Michael knew, for sure.” My mom was all smiles, looking beyond me to where Will had appeared with a sheepish expression on his face.
She made a beeline for him once he stepped into the living room. “Are you the young man from last week in the video with the impressive abs?”
“It would be awkward right about now if he wasn’t,” I muttered.
Will was the only one who seemed to be paying attention to my words. He fought a grin. “I am, and it’s nice to meet you in person, Mrs. Davenport. And Dr. Davenport, it’s a pleasure to thank you in person for taking the time last week. As you probably heard, you were right about the appendicitis.” He shook hands with my father after squeezing my mother’s hand warmly.
My mother didn’t skip a beat. “Please call me Liz. And don’t you need to check on his incisions, Tom? Lift up your shirt, Will, and let him have a look.”
It was official: my mother was a pervert. I rolled my eyes while my father managed to unintentionally embarrass me further.
“I’m sure if he’s healthy enough to partake in, um—” He suddenly stopped as he must’ve realized whatever he assumed Will was healthy enough for was with his daughter.
“It’s good. The surgeon did a nice job,” Will assured them. “Uh, I was about to say goodbye, but I hope you enjoy your visit.”
If I were him, I’d run far, far away. At the same time, the thought of him leaving had me instantly wondering when I’d see him again.
My mother, however, was on it before I could process anything to say. “How about lunch later today? Would you care to join us, Will?”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him he didn’t have to, but I found myself curious to hear his answer. I was also happy for an excuse to see him again.
“That sounds great. Just text me the address and time, Cath, and I’ll meet you all there.”
I nodded and walked him to the door, well aware that neither of my parents were moving or bothering to pretend they weren’t trying to listen to our conversation. For that reason, I shut the door on them, putting Will and me out in the hallway.
We both were quick with our words and back to whispering. “If you have plans or don’t wish to come, I understand.”
“I don’t have anything going on, but if you don’t want me there…”
“Are you kidding me? I think my mother wants you there more than she wants her own flesh and blood.”
He chuckled and then hugged me close to whisper in my ear. “I’ll try to stretch up and let her catch a glimpse of my abs if she’s good.”
I burst out laughing. “You’ll probably have to shake her from your leg if you do that.”
He winked, and I watched him walk towards the elevator.
It occurred to me that with an ass like his, my mother might not be the only one making a spectacle of herself during the meal.
***
Will showed up at the restaurant fresh from the shower and looking casual, yet sexy, in jeans and a soft gray Henley, a shirt which showed off his impressive chest and arms.
And if I hadn’t noticed, my mother certainly did. Out loud, of course. “Catherine, this young man is gorgeous. Please keep him.”
“Subtle, Mom, real subtle, and he’s not a puppy.” If he were, though, I’d totally keep him. And pet him and love him and squeeze him.
I’d already explained earlier that we weren’t romantically involved, but considering they’d found him this morning in last night’s wrinkled tuxedo, they hadn’t believed it. It hardly seemed fair to be labeled his sex partner when I hadn’t actually had the opportunity. But I pushed the thought aside. We were friends.
Will only smirked, giving me a wink. This had all of my girly parts rebuking the friend-zone thoughts and my mother sighing at the gesture.
“I’d like a Bloody Mary, double vodka, please,” I requested when the waitress came up to take our drink order.
Will chuckled, ordering only water.
My mother clucked. “You know, she won’t tell us what Michael said last night to her at the party, but I’ve never seen her order a double.”
I thought it interesting she believed my drinking had more to do with my ex than with her and her nonstop inquisition all morning. The truth was not even my parents knew I’d been going through in vitro when Michael had announced he was leaving. We’d decided to keep it quiet in case it didn’t work. So to delve into all of that personal history at this late juncture would’ve been exhausting, not to mention moot. So I’d simply chosen to explain to my parents we’d argued and leave it at that.
Will was diplomatic in coming to my defense. “Some things are better left private, don’t you think?”
“I like this young man, too.” My dad announced his approval as if the very subject wasn’t sitting right there next to us.
As the waitress set down our drinks, I noticed my mother had her phone out typing away. “Who are you texting, Mom?”
“Your idiot ex-husband to let him know you’ve obviously moved on to better things and didn’t need consoling from us.”
I gasped. There was no word for the horror that instantly flooded my brain. “You are not. Put the phone down.” I was not only embarrassed she would step over the line, but also that Will, trying not to crack a smile, was here to witness it.
“Too late. It’s sent.”
I could only stare her down, wanting to say so much. But of course I couldn’t in front of Will and a whole host of other witnesses.
My mother shrugged, not appearing apologetic in the least. “Don’t go giving me that look, honey. The way I see it is I restrained myself from asking your friend—” She punctuated ‘your friend’ with air quotes. “—from lifting up his shirt and sending a visual along with the note. It annoys me no end to think of Michael picturing for one moment you crying over him. So I just ma
de sure he’s aware that’s definitely not the case.” Then she leaned over and said in a conspiring whisper to Will, “I do hope you can help shave off those corners of her square and show her a bit of fun.”
“Just remember who your power of attorney is for making future medical decisions, Mother,” I mumbled, knowing the threat was as empty as my Bloody Mary glass. I signaled the waitress for another round, anticipating I’d need it.
She cackled. “Please, you adore me. I mean, what’s not to love?”
My father glanced over toward me in sympathy and shushed my mother. “Take it down a notch, Liz, before you scare the young man off and make our daughter an alcoholic.”
I shot a smile of thanks toward my dad who luckily, my mother did listen to upon occasion.
“Fine, fine. Sorry, Cathy. Guess you could say I have issues with not saying exactly what’s on my mind. But love it or hate it, at least I’m never boring.”
I instantly tensed up. My mother had never heard me refer to myself as boring, so she absolutely wasn’t targeting me now, but it hit home nonetheless. Ironically, perhaps it had been my mother’s unconventional outspokenness and affinity for marching to her own drum that made me so conservative in contrast.
“No, you’re never boring, Mom,” I said on a sigh and felt Will take my hand under the table and squeeze it.
When the waitress came over to take our orders, sidetracking my parents, Will leaned in and whispered. “Boring people don’t order double vodkas in their drinks.”
I smirked. “Maybe the ones who want to be more fun do.”
While the meal progressed, I sipped on my second double vodka Bloody Mary and Will handled my mother like a seasoned pro. Unfortunately, the thought reminded me of his job at Club T, where he’d probably mastered the technique.
We all made small talk during lunch. I thought it might get awkward when my dad asked Will where he worked, but he handled it beautifully by telling my father he not only modelled, but he also moonlighted as a bartender in a club while taking classes.
“In fact, I need to get to work,” he stated, pulling out his wallet.
My father waved him off. “No, son. I have a rule that absolutely no one younger pays while I’m at the table. We sure hope to see you again soon, maybe if you come up to Boston for those ribs and burgers.”
Great, now my dad had hopped on the not-so-subtle freight train with my mom. I wondered if that’s what caused a look of irritation to pass over Will’s features when he flicked his gaze towards me.
“Sure. It was nice meeting you both, and thank you for lunch.” Will stood up and glanced over at me. “Do you mind walking me out, Cath?”
Once we were on the sidewalk, I spoke first. “Thanks for coming and sorry about the countless innuendos. I promise I told them we were only friends, but given how they found us this morning, it doesn’t look like they believe it.” I blamed the vodka for my nervous chatter.
He chewed on his lip and appeared distracted before answering. “I didn’t mind. Did you, uh, tell your dad about my financial situation by chance?”
Ah, so that was the annoyance I’d witnessed. “Absolutely not. I’ve tried my whole life to pay a check for my father, even for his own birthday, and never won. He’s old-fashioned that way.”
His smile was apologetic. “Sorry, I jumped to conclusions—” He ran a hand through his hair. “Anyhow, enjoy the visit with your folks, and I’ll talk to you later.”
Right. Later could mean tomorrow or three weeks from now. He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. I returned to the table already wondering when I might hear from him again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
By Wednesday of that week, I’d put my meddling, yet supportive, parents back on a plane north to Boston; met with the priest who had married me for my ‘interview’ regarding the annulment, where I’d experienced enough Catholic guilt to last me a lifetime over a failed marriage; and had coffee with my ex-husband, who’d whined about the process taking so long but had at least apologized for his behavior the night of the gala. In all, it had been the type of week that left me feeling meh. I told myself none of it had to do with not hearing from Will.
My parents had encouraged me to come home next week and take a breather before things got really crazy at work as it typically did in the fall. Considering I hadn’t taken a real vacation in years, I was sorely tempted. However, my idea of relaxation needed to involve more sand and less of my mother. I loved her and my father dearly, especially that they would drop everything to come down and check on me, but small doses normally ensured I appreciated them more.
I was feeling restless, almost anxious for something new, but not knowing quite what it would be.
Will’s text came as a nice surprise.
“Do you have time for me to come by your office? I can bring lunch if you haven’t eaten.”
I typed out my response immediately. “Lunch sounds great, thanks. I’m free from 1-2.”
Then I buzzed my assistant, informing her he’d be on his way up soon.
Glancing down at the blood-red Armani dress which hugged all my curves, I smiled at my choice for today. I was a mood dresser. Today’s ensemble had been inspired by refusing to dwell on anything depressing this week. It was my armor, so to speak, but the fact that it looked downright sexy and I was about to see Will didn’t hurt, either.
If I was being completely honest with myself, I knew I was rapidly developing feelings for him outside of the friend zone despite knowing it wasn’t smart. Not because he wasn’t a terrific guy and not even because he didn’t meet all of the criteria on my ‘perfect’ mate list, but because I was going to get hurt. He saw me as a friend. If I’d learned anything the hard way, it was that I needed to heed those boundaries. Even if I thought he was giving mixed signals, there was no way in hell I’d ever put myself out there again. I was well aware of my tendency to misread things after the debacle I’d had a couple years ago with my friend Josh.
Too bad the decision was easier thought than followed when I took one look at him walking into my office.
“Hiya,” he said, grinning. He was dressed in a suit, which most likely meant he was heading to Club T afterwards.
“Hi, yourself.” I wasn’t quite sure how to greet him any longer. A hug, a handshake—
Thankfully, he took the uncertainty out of my question when he leaned in to give me a kiss on the cheek.
We moved towards the small, round conference table where he set the food down. I watched him survey my office and wondered what he was thinking as he scanned the framed magazine covers on the walls and the accolades on the shelves behind my desk.
“I hope I’m not disrupting your day?” His eyes fixed on me.
“No, not at all. Matter of fact, the next couple of weeks are the calm before the storm, so to speak. We’re really busy here in the fall. Um, we can eat here at the table or over in the sitting area.” I pointed toward the couch and loveseat near the window.
“On your white sofas? No, the table is good.” He started taking out containers. “I think this year’s Fashion Week will be a busy one. I’m already booked for three shows.”
I smiled, impressed, as this wasn’t a small feat. “Good for you.”
“You look great, by the way. Red is certainly your color.”
And now I could feel myself turning that particular shade from the simple compliment. Jesus, Catherine. He was being nice, not anything more.
He set out the food, and I was pleasantly surprised to see the chef salad from one of my favorite restaurants. When I looked at him in question, it was his turn to blush.
“I swear I’m not a stalker, but I noticed the menu on the front of your fridge with this item circled. I hope it wasn’t too presumptuous.”
If I’d held a gun to my ex-husband’s head and asked him the type of salad I preferred and from where it came—even with the menu in plain sight—he wouldn’t have been able to say. Not at any point during our entire marriage. But Will had be
en over once and was now apologetic over appearing presumptuous that he’d noticed. “No, not at all. Actually, it’s very thoughtful. Thank you.”
We started eating and settled into small talk. “You’re leaving for Australia soon, right?”
“Yeah. Actually, that’s why I came by. With our Sunday plans for recapping your date getting waylaid by your parents showing up and me leaving this Friday, I wanted a chance to give you my feedback on your date with Paul.”
Ah, and just like that I was painfully reminded of the real reason he was here: to work off his so-called debt. I tried not to let my disappointment lace my tone. “Sure. What are your thoughts?”
“I think we need to get you out of New York City for your dating.”
I paused mid-bite, and then swallowed it down with the help of some water. “Although it might be nice to have some anonymity, meeting someone who doesn’t live local would make it difficult when it comes to beginning a relationship, don’t you think?”
A smile played at his lips. “Agreed, but I’ve been thinking and believe you may be putting too much pressure on yourself to get out there and meet the one, when you should be out having fun.” He laughed out loud. “See, now I’m rhyming like Dr. Seuss. Anyhow, you need to learn how to feel comfortable flirting and dating without the pressure of trying to find forever.”
That didn’t sound so bad, after all. “What do you have in mind?”
“It’s easy. I think you should come to Australia with me.”
I was sure the shock was evident on my face. “Um, that’s a long way to go.” Not to mention, the fact we’d be together wouldn’t exactly help my respect of our friendship boundaries or my mixed signals radar.
“The further away from here, the better. The way I see it, Manhattan is pressuring you to follow certain protocols based on your high-profile job. But you travel to the other side of the world, and no one will know who you are. Plus, compared to the States, Australia is much less politically correct and so much more down to earth.”
“That’s probably true, but—”
Teach Me Something (Something Series Book 4) Page 10