Chapter Twenty-Four

The restaurant opening is fascinating, and I soak in the whole atmosphere since I’ve never been to one. Sam’s Steaks teems with impeccably groomed, beautifully dressed people. The steakhouse interior is all dark wood, the corkscrew grain adding an elegant and rustic architectural accent. Ceiling fans spin lazily, filling the area with the mouth-watering scent of sizzling steaks.

Matt and I weave through the crowd, enjoying the choice cuts and wines offered to guests during the half-hour reception before the restaurant officially opens. “This is amazing,” I say after finishing a bite of perfectly aged and grilled filet mignon.

“Sam knows his steak.”

I nod. “I’m dying to get to dinner.”

Soon we’re seated, and our server brings substantial, leather-bound menus that look like they’ve been branded. I select the filet mignon, medium rare, with a Caesar salad. Matt has a rare porterhouse with mashed potatoes. I ask him to decide on the wine, and he murmurs his choice to our server, who nods with a smile of approval. He also orders an appetizer of shrimp cocktails—also my favorite. Did he get the info from Sammi? She knows how much I love them.

Just as our server lays out the platter of huge succulent shrimps, a slim blonde in a royal purple jumpsuit stops at our table. “My goodness, Matt. Finally! I thought about serving you just so we could have some time together.”

I look up at her. She’s maybe in her late thirties or early forties, her skin smooth and taut over the delicate bones. Something about her feels familiar, and I realize with a start she looks awfully like Olivia.

“Hi, Mom,” Matt says with a big smile. “I didn’t know you’d show up.”

Wait. That’s his mom?

“I’m here with a client. Zack Beane.” She sniffs. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have shown if you’d known.”

“C’mooooon.” He gets up and gives her a hug. “Sorry, I’ve been really busy.”

“There’s no way that company is keeping you as busy as you say. It must be this young lady.” She turns her attention to me. If I remember correctly, both his parents are lawyers. She assesses me coolly, as though I’m a hostile witness. Or possibly some low-life scum she has to defend because everyone is entitled to a lawyer. I resist the urge to raise my shoulders and somehow shorten my neck like a turtle. I haven’t done anything wrong.

“This is Jan. Jan, my mom, Melodie Aston.”

A diamond on her third finger winks as she extends her hand. “Nice to meet you, dear.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” I say with a smile, pumping her hand a couple of times.

“You’ll have to come to brunch tomorrow,” she says to Matt, although she’s looking at me. “You can bring your date.” She shakes her head. “Actually you should bring your date.”

“Mom, it won’t be possible. We have plans.”

We do?

“I insist. You’ve been avoiding me since you moved here.”

“Like I said, I was busy, and my answer to your real question still would’ve been a big fat no since I’m not resigning so soon after starting at a new company.” Matt is smiling, but there’s a subtle undercurrent of displeasure in his tone.

Then it hits me. His mom wants him to quit Sweet Darlings? Whoa. Why?

“Aston Richter Spencer Emerick is your legacy.”

“No. That’s your baby, not mine.” Then he reaches over and holds my hand on the table. “And if you don’t mind I’m on a date, and we have plans this weekend.”

Except we don’t.

Melodie narrows her eyes and glares at Matt, which isn’t easy since he’s taller. A hostile silence stretches out, and finally I can’t stand it anymore. I blurt out, “I honestly don’t mind.”

“Jan, you don’t have to,” Matt says at the same time Melodie says, “Thank you, Jan. That’s very kind. Matt, it’s at ten, like always. You don’t have to bring anything.”

He gives her a smile just as big as before. “Of course, Mom.”

When she leaves for her table, which is on the opposite end of the restaurant, he sighs. “Well. It could’ve been worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“She could’ve insisted on coming over.”

We return to our meal. At least the shrimp cocktail doesn’t need to be kept warm. But something’s not right. Melodie probably doesn’t bite, and she most likely adores her son—I mean, what mom wouldn’t if they had a son like Matt? But he seems too reluctant. Maybe I shouldn’t have jumped in and forced him into having to bring me to the brunch. Maybe he’s worried I’ll do something really embarrassing in front of his parents. He knows I’ve never eaten with the parents of a guy I’m sleeping with. Just what is the protocol anyway?

More or less on autopilot, I take a bite of the shrimp, but I don’t taste much of it except to note it’s very cold. Perhaps Emily Post has a chapter on dining with your first boyfriend’s parents.

“You’re thinking too much again,” Matt says.

“I’m…I feel like maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. Or maybe you don’t want me to meet your parents.” I fidget and shift in my seat. “I mean, it’s awkward.”

“No.” He reaches over and holds my hand, his eyes warm. “It’s not you. It’s really my mom. She thinks I ought to join the firm now that I’m back home, but since I’m not interested, things can get a bit tense. I’ve been trying to avoid a confrontation with her because, you know, I don’t want to hurt her feelings. But I’m not living my life to please her.”

“You love her.”

He smiles. “Of course. Even when she drives me crazy, she’s my mom.”

I smile back. That’s so sweet, but at the same time, it confirms what I know is true. Everyone does obligatory love, even though they deny it.

And this is why I like being with Matt. He doesn’t love me out of obligation. He just loves things about me, exactly like I love things about him.