“I’ll only turn eighteen once, right?” I grinned. “It’s okay, Mom, we can do dinner with Will.”
Her eyes narrowed.
I took another drink of cocoa. “Should I dress up for this? Since he is a doctor and all. Oh! Are we going to a fancy dinner and will we talk politics and current events?”
“Shush it.” She smiled, though, settling back. “I think you’ll like him. He’s not stuffy or overbearing. He’s really like…”
My heart did a funny thing. “Like Dad?”
Mom smiled sadly. “Yeah, like Dad.”
Neither of us spoke for a few minutes. Mom had met Dad her first year of nursing residency at the hospital in Florida. He’d been a patient, having fallen off the deck and broken his foot, trying to impress some girl. But according to my dad, the moment he’d looked into Mom’s eyes, he couldn’t even remember the other girl’s name. They’d dated for six months, got engaged, and married within the year. I came shortly thereafter, and there hadn’t been two people more in love than them. Even when they’d argued, love fueled their words.
I’d give anything to have that kind of relationship.
I finished off the rest of my cocoa and wiggled closer to Mom. She lifted her slender arm and I snuggled in, inhaling the apple-scented body lotion she always wore during autumn. Mom had this habit of changing her perfumes and lotions with the seasons.
“I’m happy you met him,” I said finally. “Will sounds like a really nice guy.”
“He is.” She kissed the top of my head. “I like to think your father would approve.”
Dad would approve of anyone who made Mom happy. I’d been there the day hospice had told us it wouldn’t be much longer. Standing outside their bedroom, I’d heard him tell Mom to love again. That was all he wanted.
I closed my eyes. That kind of love should’ve been able to beat sickness. That kind of love should’ve conquered anything.
Chapter 8
I readjusted the thin black straps for the third time and finally gave up. No matter how many times I tugged on it, the neckline of the dress wasn’t coming up any higher. I couldn’t believe it fit me. Aw hell, it fit a little too well, emphasizing the vast difference between Dee’s body and mine. My boobs just might come out and say hello tonight. The dress clung to my bust and had a cinched empire waist before it billowed in soft waves to end before my knees.
I kind of looked hot.
But I needed to cover those babies up. I whipped open the closet door. I knew I had a red cardigan that wouldn’t look too bad with this dress, but I couldn’t find it in the mess. It took me a few minutes to realize that it was in the dryer.
“Holy crud.” I moaned and headed downstairs in a flurry of black and tapping heels.
Thank God Mom had already left for work. She’d either stroke out or applaud the dress. Either one would’ve been embarrassing. I headed down the hallway, nervous and nauseous. I could hear the car doors outside, the laughter as I pulled out the cardigan, shook it, and slipped it on. What if I did something stupid? Like lift a TV in front of an entire house full of classmates?
Just then there was a knock on the door. Taking a deep breath, I backtracked to the front door and swung it open. “Hey.”
Blake stepped in, holding a half dozen roses in his hands. His eyes drifted over me. “Whoa, you look really great.” He smiled as he held out the flowers.
Blushing, I took the roses and inhaled their clean scent. Giddiness swept through me. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.”
Ah, the key word again: want. “Well, they’re beautiful. And you look really nice, too.” And he did, dressed in a dark V-neck sweater with a collared shirt on underneath. I stepped back, holding the roses close. No one had ever given me flowers before. “Would you like something to drink before we head over?”
Blake nodded and followed me into the kitchen. Options were limited, so he settled on one of my mom’s wine coolers. He leaned against the counter, looking around as I found a vase for the roses. “You have books everywhere. It’s really cute.”
I smiled as I set the roses on the counter. “My mom hates it. She’s always trying to pick them up.”
“And you just put them right back, huh?”
I laughed. “Yeah, sounds right.”
He moved forward, wine cooler in one hand. His gaze dipped and he reached out, picking up the silver chain. His knuckles brushed the swell of my chest. “Interesting necklace. What kind of stone is this?”
“Obsidian,” I told him. “A friend gave it to me.”
“It’s really different.” He let it drop. “It’s cool.”
“Thanks.” I placed my fingers on it, trying to push away the images of Daemon it brought along with it. I searched for something to say. “Thanks for the flowers again. They’re really pretty.”
“I’m glad you like them. I was worried I’d look like a nerd for giving them to you.”
“No. They’re perfect.” I smiled. “Are you ready to go over?”
He finished up the wine cooler and rinsed it before tossing it in the trash. Mom would’ve loved him for that—well, not the underage-drinking-of-her-wine-cooler part. “Sure,” he said. “But I kind of have some bad news. I can only stay for half an hour tops. We have some family coming in last minute. I’m really sorry.”
“No,” I said, hoping the disappointment wasn’t audible. “It’s okay. We didn’t give you much notice.”