Chapter 16
When they reached the house, Naomi had Victor pull into the driveway as far to the right as he could. Part of her deal with Baker had been that he’d show up after her and Chance. In fact, she’d messaged him on the way to coordinate their arrivals. By her calculation, he should be pulling up the drive within two to three minutes.
The sprawling redbrick of her childhood rested on a hill overlooking a winding valley of neighborhoods. From the driveway, one would assume the backyard dropped straight down, but beyond the stately magnolias, the Mallard property extended to nearly the size of a football field with willow, oak, and hickory trees strategically placed for both privacy and shade.
Chance exited the car first and then turned to help Naomi. Once they were both out, Victor closed the door. “Have a nice dinner. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”
Naomi straightened her clothing and resisted the urge to ask Chance how much the limo was costing him. “Thank you, Victor. I’ll bring you out a dessert as soon as I can.”
The driver acknowledged the promise before returning to the front seat.
Satisfied with her appearance, Naomi looked up to find Chance gawking. “Welcome to chez Mallard. It isn’t as daunting as it looks.” She rethought that statement. “Well, the house isn’t. The people inside are a different story.”
“What does your dad do again?” he asked.
“Dentistry. He’s run his own practice since I was in middle school.” When Chance continued to stare, she clutched his sleeve. To her surprise, he’d ditched the usual T-shirt and vest for a starched gray button-down. “Should we go in?”
“Hold on.” Intense brown eyes swung her way. “How are we playing this?”
She thought they’d established that on Friday morning. “Like you said. We met at work, hit it off, and have been spending time together.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “What kind of time?”
“Um . . .” Naomi wasn’t sure how to answer. “Regular time? A couple nights a week?”
“I mean, are we sleeping together?”
The question left her flustered. “You mean after this?”
Chance scrubbed a hand over his face. “Stay with me, Nay. I need to know what you want them to think. If we’re sleeping together, I’m going to act one way. If we’re closer to friends, I’m going to act another. Which is it?”
Why was he making this so complicated? And when did it get so hot outside?
“If I want Mom to stop pushing Neal on me, then I guess we’d have to be more than friends. But I broke up with another man only last week.” Naomi twisted her purse strap around her hand. “Seems kind of fast to be sleeping with someone new.”
Nostrils flaring, Chance asked, “Were you sleeping with Swanson?”
A personal question that didn’t have anything to do with the current situation, but Naomi answered anyway. “No. Michael and I never slept together.”
Visibly appeased, he took her hand. “Then that’s settled.”
Whatever conclusion they’d just reached was a mystery to Naomi. Before she could seek clarification, a red Honda Civic pulled up the drive. Seconds later, Baker popped out looking quite proud of himself. “Two minutes exactly.” Pausing to take in the long black car, her younger brother whistled. “Nice, sis. Way to travel in style.”
“This is my brother, Baker,” Naomi explained as her shaggy-haired coconspirator ambled over to join them. “Baker, this is—”
“Chance freaking Colburn.” He shook Chance’s hand as if trying to coax water from a well. “How you doing, man? You’re looking good. Way better than that mug shot posted everywhere.”
I’ll take “When It’s Okay to Kill Your Brother” for a thousand, Alex.
“We should go inside.” Naomi wrapped an arm around Chance’s and led him to the side door.
Unfortunately, Baker wasn’t finished embarrassing her. “I thought you were bringing some random guy, Homie. Way to pull out the big guns. Mom is going to shit a brick.” He shook his head as he hopped in front of them to reach the door first. “I’m so glad I get to see her face when y’all walk in. This is gonna be epic.”
Speaking for the first time since her brother pulled up, Chance whispered, “Did he call you homie?”
Full-blown humiliation achieved. “When he was a baby, Baker couldn’t say Naomi. What he could say sounded like homie, and he’s called me that ever since.”
Chance won points for not laughing. “Is that the strangest thing I’m going to learn tonight?”
She wished. “Probably not. My father is a frequent TMI offender. I’d limit extended conversations if I were you.”
Chance reached for the door Baker didn’t bother to hold for them. “Got it.”
The Mallard house far outshot whatever Chance had pictured in his head. Not a mansion by any means, but the imposing two-story made a statement. It said people of means live here. Real people. Not famous people. Famous people tended to go ostentatious. Personally, Chance preferred his three-thousand-square-foot cabin to a haughty palace sporting tennis courts and Olympic-size pools. But the Mallards had gone for classic upper-crust, white-collar pomp. Precision landscaping. Tailored grounds. Understated grandeur.
The complete and total opposite of the house Chance had grown up in.
They entered through a sunroom filled with wicker furniture and flourishing greenery. Following Naomi’s lead, he wiped his booted feet on the textured gray welcome mat.
“Last chance to back out,” Naomi mumbled, once Baker advanced farther into the house.
Chance had never been the curious type, but he could have given Willie a run for his feline money in that moment. “Abort the mission? Hell no.”
She laughed, and his gut tightened. “All right then.” Naomi took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Into the lion’s den we go.”
Hands clasped, they stepped into a blindingly white kitchen that he assumed could have fallen straight out of Southern Living magazine. No stacks of mail on the counter. No dishes in the sink. Just total silence as five sets of eyes turned their way. Baker kept his gaze on the older woman holding a stack of plates.
Naomi’s grip tightened as she offered a quick wave with her free hand. “Hello, everyone. I brought a guest.”
A willowy figure with light brown hair embarked on a coughing fit, prompting the man beside her, wearing what Chance considered golf-course attire, to absently pat her on the back. An older gentleman transitioned from astonished to approving in a matter of seconds, as he shoved past what had to be Naomi’s intended escort for the evening.
“Welcome to our home,” he said, wide smile revealing perfect, pearly whites. “I’m Benny Mallard, Naomi’s dad.” The patriarch turned to introduce the rest of the gathering, some of whom looked less enthused about the intruder in their midst. “Here’s our oldest daughter, Mary Beth, and her husband, Lawrence. Their girls are playing in the other room, but you’ll meet them soon. Our youngest, Baker, who I’m guessing you might have met outside, and this is my wife, Dawn.” With less zeal, he added, “This is Neal. He lives next door.”
The pretty boy waved, drawing the baby blue Polo shirt tight across bulging muscles. Since when did doctors get that kind of gym time?
In collective silence, they stared, either not sure what to say, or restrained enough not to say what they were thinking.
“Naomi didn’t tell us you were coming,” her dad said. “So we’re all a little surprised.”
Yeah. He could see that.
“Nice to meet you all. I’m Chance Colburn.”
The no-longer-coughing brunette muttered, “Oh my God,” as she reached for a pot holder and fanned herself.
Naomi finally found her voice. “Chance coming was a last-minute thing. Mom always makes more food than we can eat, so I figured one more guest wouldn’t hurt.”
Heavy plates slammed down on the massive island. “Of course,” Dawn said, unable to muster even a fake smile. “Any friend of Naomi’s is welcome here.”
Curling into Chance’s side, Naomi corrected her mother’s assumption. “Chance and I are more than friends, Mom. You always say you want to meet the men I date. So here you go.”
The announcement went over about as well as Chance expected, based on initial reactions. Big Sis chugged the wine in her hand. Her hubby bit his thumb to hide his laughter. And Mr. Next Door Doctor pinched his lips so tight Chance feared he might swallow them. All while Benny continued to beam with approval and Dawn openly simmered.
“Naomi Marie, can I talk to you in the living room for a minute?”
Clinging to his arm, his quasi date turned down the request. “We can talk later, Mother. Baker, would you pass us two waters from the fridge?” Little Brother did as asked, and Naomi handed one to Chance. “Are we ready to eat?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Benny said, rubbing his hands together. “I’m starving.”
His wife wasn’t ready to concede the battle. “I don’t know that we can fit another place at the table.”
“Oh yeah,” Baker cut in. “Priscilla couldn’t make it. But hey, Chance can take her place.” The boy would make a terrible actor.
“Great.” Naomi set her purse on the counter before dragging her make-believe date around the island, bypassing her family and charging into the next room.
Naomi had never been so mortified in all her life. Yes, she’d expected her mother to be annoyed that her plan had been thwarted. But open hostility to a perfect stranger was completely unacceptable. If she wanted to be angry with Naomi, that was fine. But she would not take that anger out on Chance.
The family filed into the dining room, where Naomi and Chance had already taken their seats. She’d endured enough of these dinners to know the seating chart with her eyes closed. Mary Beth, her daughters Felicity and Madison—seven and five, respectively—then Lawrence all on one side of the table. Two-year-old Brianna’s high chair occupied an area at the corner between her mother and grandmother. Baker always shared the opposite side with Naomi, but tonight a third chair had been added to their side, and another next to Lawrence.
If her mother had meant for Neal to sit next to Naomi, she must have intended to put Baker and his girlfriend on opposite sides. Thanks to a nonverbal exchange with her brother, he beat Neal to the empty seat next to her, leaving their neighbor the only seat left—next to Lawrence.
So far, Operation Avoid the Doctor was going well.
Lawrence and Mary Beth worked together to dish up the girls’ plates, while the others passed around platters of garlic-Parmesan chicken, new potatoes with asparagus, roasted carrots, and dinner rolls.
Once everyone had their food, Lawrence kicked off the usual catching-up-on-the-week conversation. “How’s the new job going, Bake?”
“Good. Real good. One week in, and I’m already assistant lead on a new start-up idea.”
“Nice,” Mary Beth said. “How was the course today, Dad?” Unlike Naomi, her sister was a natural-born athlete. She loved to golf but hadn’t been able to use her clubs much since Brianna had come along.
“We had low wind and plenty of sunshine. Can’t complain about that.” Her father sliced through a potato. “You need to get back out there with me.”
“I hope to soon.”
Conversation lulled as food was consumed. Naomi feared someone would muster up the courage to ask Chance something, and at the same time, she feared they wouldn’t.
As if reading her mind, her mother said, “Mr. Colburn, how long have you known my daughter?”
Multiple sets of silverware hovered in the air, everyone but the girls anxious to hear the answer.
“Please,” he said, “call me Chance. Nay and I met seven years ago, when she worked PR for my first album.”
He’d said they should stick with the truth, but she hadn’t realized how honest he intended to be. Nervous for the follow-up question, Naomi struggled to chew the bite of tender chicken in her mouth.
“That’s odd,” her mother drawled. “She’s never mentioned knowing you.” Was she accusing Chance of lying or Naomi of keeping a secret?
“That was back when I worked for Martha Reynolds, remember?” Naomi gathered carrots onto her fork. “Chance was one of the first artists I ever worked with. He wasn’t as famous as he is now, so I guess it never occurred to me to mention it.”
Her mother cut into her own chicken. “He’s certainly famous now, isn’t he? Or maybe I should say notorious?”
Heat spiraled up Naomi’s neck as anger closed her throat. Chance had come here as a favor. He didn’t deserve insults for his trouble.
“Let’s talk about something else.” Stabbing a piece of asparagus, Naomi glanced across the table. “How’s the insurance business, Lawrence?”
“Neal is a doctor,” Dawn announced, as if her daughter hadn’t spoken at all. “He’s joined a group of plastic surgeons associated with Vanderbilt Medical Center.”
“I specialize in reconstructive surgery,” Neal explained. “Detail work, really.”
“Maybe he’ll be working on some of your friends, Chance.”
Great. Now she was expanding the backhanded insults to company. This meal could not end soon enough.
“That’s a possibility,” he replied. “I hear nose jobs are all the rage with us country music folk.” Pointing his empty fork Neal’s way, he said, “Give me some business cards and I’ll pass them around at the next award show.”
Neal reached for his back pocket. “Really? That would be awesome.”
Dad put a hand on the eager surgeon’s arm. “Put the cards away, son. Chance is only kidding.”
“Oh.”
Naomi almost felt sorry for him. Neal was a guest at this awkward dinner, the same as Chance was. Other than being her mother’s choice for her new son-in-law, he’d done nothing to earn a part in this farce.
“I don’t see the humor,” her mother said, apparently taking offense at Chance’s joke. “Neal does real work. I was only suggesting—”
“That people in my profession are vain,” Chance finished for her. “Yeah, I got it.”
“I need more wine,” Mary Beth uttered as she edged her chair back.
Their mother’s next words kept her eldest in her seat. “Maybe we should skip the alcohol for tonight. Out of consideration for our unexpected guest.”
That was it. Bolting to her feet, Naomi tossed her napkin on the table. “This was a mistake.”
Chance took her hand. “Nay, it’s all right.”
“No, it is not all right.” She turned on her mother. “Rudeness and disrespect have never been tolerated in this house. Never. Yet the first time I bring a man home that I truly care about, you treat him like a . . . a criminal.”
Her mother stood, slamming her hands on the table. “He is a criminal, Naomi. Do you think we don’t read the papers? He was in jail just last year. The man is a drunk.”
Fire raged behind Naomi’s eyes as her hands curled into fists, each nail pressing divots into her palms. “That’s a bit of a pot-and-kettle statement, isn’t it, Mother? How much wine do you consume in a day?”
“We all need to calm down,” her father said.
“You calm down.” Naomi shoved her chair backward. “Chance and I are leaving.”
Mary Beth wadded her own napkin and set it on the table. “We’re going, too.”
“What?” Lawrence said.
His wife shot him an impatient glare. “I said, we’re leaving.”
“But we just started eating,” Felicity pointed out.
After lifting the child off her chair, Naomi’s sister reached for her middle child. “Get your shoes on, girls, while Daddy fetches Brie’s bag.”
Finally catching on, Lawrence leaped into action. “I can do that.”
Naomi waited for Chance to stand up. With unhurried movements, he rose to his feet and dropped his napkin on his chair.
“It was nice to meet you all. Have a good night.”
Before they reached the edge of the dining room, her father jumped to his feet. “Dawn, say something. This is ridiculous.”
Her mother chose to remain silent.
Drowning in embarrassment and guilt, Naomi picked up her pace, thankful for Chance’s warm hand in hers. She wouldn’t have blamed him for pulling away. This was her fault. Naomi never should have let him do this for her.
As they passed through the kitchen, Naomi grabbed her purse off the counter.
“Hold on,” Mary Beth called, catching them at the door to the sunroom. “I’m sorry,” she said to Chance. “That was inexcusable, what my mother said back there. I want you to know that she doesn’t speak for all of us. Lawrence and I would love to have you guys over for dinner some time. I promise, it’ll go better than this.”
Moved by the show of solidarity, Naomi fought back tears as she hugged her sister tight. “Thank you.”
With a squeeze in return, her sibling said, “Anytime.”