Chapter 13

Lanie

 

Mom opened the back door of her car and frowned at the pumpkins covering it. “You don’t think this is too early, do you?”

“It’s September.” The wind must have been listening, because at my words, it picked up, cutting through my sweater and making me wrap my arms around myself.

“None of the neighbors have pumpkins out yet.” She pressed her fingers against her lips in concern.

“You’re a maverick. Let’s get them out. It’s so cold.”

Not waiting for her next protest, I pushed my way forward and hauled out the closest pumpkin. Once we’d gotten all of them out and set on the front porch, we used the kitchen to escape the chill.

“One week before Halloween is a good time to carve,” Mom mused as she frothed milk using the fancy coffee machine Dad had given her on their last anniversary. The contraption was huge and bulky with two group heads for pulling shots of espresso. It could have replaced the espresso machine at the coffee shop near my apartment. Still, it only took up a minuscule amount of space in the huge kitchen.

Sliding into one of the seats at the corner table, I looked out at the backyard. Perfectly manicured hedges traced the property’s perimeter. Every time I went over to my parents, a part of me expected to go out back and find myself in the childhood home I’d grown up in. That place was long gone, though. They’d sold it while I was an undergrad and moved to a bigger house farther outside the city.

Some people downgraded as they approached retirement. For my parents, there was no such thing. Life was all about constantly moving up.

“You don’t want sugar, do you?” Mom asked, her hand hovering near the ceramic sugar dish while her eyes gave me that look that said, Don’t you dare.

“Yeah, I’ll take some,” I answered, just to mess with her.

Deep-red lips pursed, she carried the tray laden with lattes, and the sugar dish, to the table.

“Thanks, Mom.”

The gratitude calmed her some. “You’re welcome, sweetie.”

“Am I gonna see Dad today?”

“Are you staying for dinner?”

“No. I’m going to Erica’s tonight. We always have dinner on Thursdays.”

“Oh, well. He won’t be home for it, anyway. He’s taking a business meeting.”

Good lord, woman. Why hadn’t she told me that in the beginning?

Keeping my sigh checked, I sipped my latte. If ever I needed a reminder of why I lived on the other side of the city, all I had to do was return home for an hour.

“How’s school, sweetie?” Mom touched my arm.

“It’s good. I think I made the right choice.”

“That’s great to hear.” She smiled at me, but there was worry behind it. “Dad and I have been concerned about you.”

“Why? I’m fine.”

“But you’re so far away, and you only have Erica over there. You must get lonely.”

The smile I gave her was genuine. As annoying as my mother could be, she was also incredibly loving. She might have grated my nerves, but I knew I could go to her at any time and for any reason.

“Mom. I’m all good.”

“Okay,” she said in a voice that made it clear the topic would pop up again soon. As she absentmindedly stirred her coffee, she eyed me. “Have you met anyone nice at the high school?”

I knew where this was going. As much as I wanted to meet a nice man, there was one person who wanted it to happen even more. Yep. My mother.

“I haven’t had the chance to get to know any of the teachers that well.”

She shrugged. “You’ve looked them over, right? Are any of them cute?”

“No,” I slowly said. “But I do have a date this weekend.”

Her eyes lit up like fireworks. “Lanie, that’s wonderful! With whom?”

“This guy named Andrew. He works in investment, and he’s nice. We spent a little time together at this art show last weekend.”

“And he’s cute?”

“Very,” I admitted, doing my best to check my smile. There was a fine line when it came to dishing on guys with a parent. Mom probably didn’t care if it was crossed, but I certainly did.

“So he has a good job.” Mom nodded. “And he’s attractive. He doesn’t have a secret wife, does he?”

“Not that I know of.” I laughed.

“Then he’s perfect.” She raised her latte, and I clinked mine against hers.

“It’s the first date,” I reminded her. “I can’t get too excited.”

“Oh, get excited.” She dismissively waved her hand. “After What’s-His-Name, you deserve to.”

I wasn’t sure which What’s-His-Name from my past she referred to, but it didn’t matter. They all pretty much sucked.

“When are you getting the new mulch?” I asked.

“Don’t change the subject. Tell me more about this Andrew guy.”

“There’s nothing else to say.”

I didn’t want her to know anything else. Once she got a mouthful of tidbits, she’d be giving me hell on anything that seemed less than perfect.

“How old is he?” Mom pressed.

I sighed. “Fine. He’s forty-five.”

Her eyes went wide as beach balls. “Forty-five!” she shrieked. “Lanie, that’s seventeen years older than you!”

“Thanks, Mom. I know how old I am.”

“Don’t mock me,” she snapped.

I pressed my lips together hard. “It doesn’t matter how old he is.”

“How are you going to marry a man that much older than you?”

“No one said I was marrying him.”

“But that’s what you’re looking for now. You’re almost thirty.”

Correction, it had been what I was looking for. At this point, after so many hurdles and punches, I would have settled for nothing more than a nice time. I’d been let down so much that getting my hopes up had begun to hurt.

“Your father is going to freak when he hears you’re dating a forty-five-year-old.”

“It’s one date,” I protested, leaving out the part about me praying it would be more. Marriage or not, having a guy around to have some fun with would be amazing. A deep connection would be a bonus, but I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for that.

Mom’s tongue clicked. “You’ve already agreed to the date, so I suppose it would be distasteful for you to cancel it.”

I stared at her, annoyance surging.

“Lanie?”

“What, Mom?”

“Don’t tell your father about this.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

I started to respond that I hadn’t, but maybe I had.

“An older man with a younger woman.” Mom shook her head. “You know what your father will say. He’ll think this man is taking advantage of you.”

“How? In what way?”

“You’re mature in some ways, Lanie, but seventeen years is too much of a difference.”

She hadn’t answered my question at all. “I have to go,” I said, not bothering to look at the clock. “Erica is waiting for me.”

“Be careful this weekend. Don’t go anywhere where there aren’t other people.”

“He’s not a sexual predator.”

“Lanie.”

“Okay. I hear you.”

She huffed, perfectly-manicured fingers tapping against the table. Surprisingly, no steam issued from her ears.

“Love you, Mom. See you later.”

With her tart goodbye ringing in the room, I left. Since the kitchen sat at the back of the house, the journey to the front, in my opinion, took way too long. I needed out of that house ASAP.

On the drive to Erica’s, my teeth wouldn’t unclench. My mom had been right about my dad’s reaction to me dating an older guy. My parents were so by-the-book, their heads would probably explode if they knew the man I was going out with was the father of one of my students.

Parking at Erica’s, I found myself checking my phone, hoping there would be a text from Andrew. The screen was blank, though. We hadn’t been in touch since our conversation on the phone the day before. I found myself aching to hear his voice. I’d only seen this man twice in person, and yet I already missed him.

Was that a bad sign? What if my mom was right after all? Maybe I’d gotten in over my head. Andrew probably had girls fawning over him all the time. If I continued to fall for him but didn’t meet his expectations, nothing would stop him from moving on to the next person. And there I’d be, alone. Right where I’d started.

Realizing I was going down the rabbit hole of worry again, I collected my purse and keys and schlepped it into Erica’s building.

“What’s that sourpuss face for?” she asked the second I came through the door.

“I just saw my mom.”

“Say no more.” She donned a pair of mitts and extracted a baking pan from the oven.

“Oh my god,” I groaned, dropping my purse and plopping into a chair. “I forgot to pick up ice cream!”

“Whoa. Relax. It’s not the end of the world. The pie’s not going to be that good without it, but I need to back off on dairy anyway.”

I ran my fingers down my cheeks. “I just don’t have my head on straight right now.”

“Every other time you go to your mother’s it’s like that.”

“I know, I know.”

“So what happened?” Erica sat down next to me, bringing a cutting board and tomatoes to the table. She started dicing the fruit into little cubes, her cuts swift and clean. I lightly touched the place where I’d nicked myself the week before. It had healed fine, but every time I thought about dinner at Erica’s now, I thought about Andrew.

“I told her about my date with Andrew Marx,” I slowly said. “Just that he’s in investing and he’s forty-five, well, according to the internet.”

“Uh-huh. And how did that go?”

Like she had to ask.

“She made it pretty clear she thinks it’s a mistake. She kept talking about how my dad would freak out if he knew I was dating an older guy.”

Erica scrunched her nose. “You shouldn’t have told her.”

I threw my hands up. “Well, I left right after that transgression, so there you go.”

“Good choice.”

She finished cutting the tomatoes and neatly wiped her hands on the dish towel slung over her shoulder. “You want my advice?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

“They’re my parents.”

She held her hand up. “I’m only putting it in such a rough way because I know how you are.”

I know how you are. God, I was tired of everyone talking about how they either knew me or knew what was best for me.

“Don’t patronize me, Erica.”

She gave me a sharp look. “I’m not. All I’m saying is, it doesn’t matter what anyone else says. It’s up to every person to do what’s right for them.”

“Yeah,” I conceded.

“What’s right for you in this case?”

“I don’t know.” I worked my bottom lip between my teeth, feeling more confused than before.

“Oh, come on. It’s to go out with Andrew.”

“Are you sure? It’s a seventeen-year difference. That’s—”

“The age of his daughter,” she interrupted with a giggle.

“Exactly.”

“But who cares?” Erica dramatically threw her hands in the air.

“There are differences, things he might understand that I might not. Or, maybe—”

“Maybe a lot of things. Haven’t you ever wondered why it didn’t work out with Brad?”

“He was immature. You know that.”

“What about Hudson? Nick? Enoch?”

“You’re going to list every man I ever went on a date with?”

“They were boy-men.” She punctuates the last part by pointing her finger at me. “They couldn’t grow up. Men our age are kind of, well, ugh.” Erica shook her head.

“Your boyfriend is our age.”

“He’s an exception. Thank God. Look, Lanie. Maybe you haven’t found the right guy yet because you’ve been looking in the wrong age group. Going out with an older guy might be good for you. It’ll give you an idea of what you’ve been missing.”

“Hm. I guess.”

Thinking about it, Erica’s point of view grew on me. Something had always been off about the men I dated. It was like they lagged behind in one way or another, and I was stuck waiting for them to catch up.

“I think you’re mature for your age,” Erica seriously said, taking her tomatoes to the stove and dumping them into a skillet.

“Thank you, but I’m not sure that’s true.”

“Spoken like a truly mature person.”

I laughed, and Erica joined me.

“Okay, I’ll do it. I’m going out with him.”

The conversation moved on, but as we cooked and talked about movies coming out and the trip Erica and Matt were planning to Ireland, I barely saw the things in front of me. Those dark brown eyes were back, filling my inner vision and distracting me from anything and everything else.

I cared what my parents thought more than I wanted to admit. Even when I disagreed with them, their disapproval still had a way of getting under my skin. But enough was enough. The time to do things for myself had come. I was going out with any man I wanted to. With that decision made, a rush of excitement filled me.

I absolutely could not wait for Saturday night.