“Let me guess.” Will chuckles as he tucks his hands behind his head and leans back in the couch. “It only makes you more determined.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.” I grin at my buddy. “You know I love a good challenge, but it’s more than that. I might have only met her, but I really, really like her. She’s sexy and sweet, and we just clicked. It was easy breezy.”
“Until she rejected you.” Cohen smirks.
I flip him the bird again. “That is only a minor obstacle, and she’s the kind of girl worth making an effort for.”
“If you say so.” Cohen’s stupid smirk is still firmly planted on his face, and a wave of irritation crests over me.
“I do, and I’m staking my claim now.”
Will whistles under his breath, Noah almost chokes on a mouthful of cereal, and Cohen chuckles.
Calling dibs is the kind of douchey behavior Cohen is known for, not me, so I understand their reactions.
Noah hooks up occasionally, but he’s not interested in dating. I think he’s still hung up on his childhood sweetheart back home. She broke things off with him just before he left for Oregon, and I don’t think he’s gotten over her yet.
Will and I are into relationships, favoring dating over random one-night stands. I would not ordinarily make a claim on any girl ’cause it’s a major dickhead move, but there is something about Stevie that makes me want to beat on my naked chest, throw her over my shoulder, and turn full Neanderthal. “We had insane chemistry, and I have never wanted to kiss a girl as badly as I wanted to kiss Stevie last night. I just want to see where this might go.”
“Wow.” Will grins. “Sounds intense.”
“I think it could be.”
“Your tie is crooked.” Mom purses her lips as she strides across the large living room, making a beeline for me, when I materialize in the doorway.
“You look nice, Mom,” I say as she approaches.
Ivy Allen-Golding-Smith doesn’t look a day over thirty despite celebrating her forty-fourth birthday recently. Mom has her cosmetic surgeon on speed dial, and she spends an inordinate amount of time at the dermatologist’s office and at the gym with her personal trainer, and it shows. Today, she is wearing an elegant, fitted navy lace dress with cream and gold high heels that accentuate her slim frame to perfection. Expensive pearls—gifted to her by Henry Golding during their short-lived marriage—adorn her neck, and she wears a matching bracelet on her wrist. Her dyed-blonde hair hangs in loose curls over her shoulder, and her makeup artist clearly paid a house visit.
She looks every inch the society belle she has molded herself to be.
Dad’s current wife is the opposite of Mom. As if he purposely set out to find a woman who isn’t anything like my mother. Dawn couldn’t give a flying fuck what she looks like, and she’s never seen the inside of a plastic surgeon’s or a dermatologist’s office. She favors jeans and yoga pants, and the only time I ever see her dressed up is when she attends an official business event with Dad. Dad married her three years after his divorce from Mom, when I was nine, and they have been happily married ever since.
I have a real laid-back relationship with my stepmom, and she’s good people. She helps to balance the sometimes exhaustive high maintenance demands of my mother.
I love my mom, but she’s hard work.
“Thanks, sweetheart.” She fiddles with my tie as I arch my neck, look up at the ornate ceiling with the intricate molding detail, and try to resist rolling my eyes. Everything is about appearances with Mom. God forbid I show up to the country club with an askew tie. “Today is important. Your father is trusting you to represent the family, and you can’t let him down.”
Dad wouldn’t give a shit about my crooked tie. As long as I show up, smile, shake a few hands, and say the right words, he’ll be happy. Allen Wineries is sponsoring the inaugural golf tournament at Sand Point, and if it’s a success, it will probably become a regular annual thing. Normally, Dad or my uncle would represent the company, but they are overseas meeting with clients, and they took their wives with them.
Dad asked me to fill in, instead of one of the management team, and I readily accepted. I need to start getting more involved in the business, and I’m proud to represent my family today. “Dad knows I won’t,” I supply as the doorbell chimes.
“Oh good. They’re here early. We can have champagne on the terrace.”
My eyes narrow to slits. “Who’s here?”
She beams at me, the skin on her face remaining stationary with the motion. “Relax, darling.” She squeezes my shoulder. “I just invited Cristelle and the governor.” She brushes hair back from my face with an effort at a scowl. “I really wish you’d do something with your hair.” If she had her way, it’d be much shorter and worn in a preppy style, and my wardrobe would consist solely of polo shirts, loafers, and dress suits and shoes.
“Is Pepper with them?” I ask although I suspect I already know the answer.
“Pepper will be accompanying us today too.” Her smile widens, but I don’t share her exuberance.
“Mom.” My tone contains considerable warning. “Stop. Meddling.”
“What?” She feigns surprise. Something that’s hard to do when her brow barely lifts. “Pepper’s a gorgeous girl. She’s single. You’re single, and you’re both destined for amazing things. She’s a great catch, Garrick. I don’t know why you’re resisting.”
“I like Pepper,” I admit. “She’s a great friend.” I enunciate the word in the hope it might finally get through to my meddlesome mother. “But friendly feelings are all we have for one another. You can’t force something that isn’t there, and you need to quit with all this matchmaking bullshit. I can find my own dates.”
“Language, darling.”
Air whistles out of my mouth in frustration. “Stop treating me like a little kid who can’t make his own decisions. I’m a grown man, Mom, and you need to let me lead my life the way I choose.”
“I’m only suggesting you keep an open mind. Feelings can develop over time, and the best relationships grow out of friendship.” The sound of approaching footsteps echoes in the hallway behind me. Mom stops fussing over me and steps back. Her lips pull into a tight line. “Just look at your father. He’s a ringing endorsement for friends to lovers.”
“I don’t know why you’re still pissed at Dad. It was you who filed for divorce.”
And you who had an affair, which broke up your marriage. I think it, but I don’t articulate it. Everything that needed to be said on that topic was said years ago when the seedy truth came to light.
“You have repeatedly told me you weren’t a good match,” I continue. “You should be happy he’s happy. I know that’s all he wants for you.” It’s true. Dad doesn’t have a bad bone in his body. He’s content with Dawn, and he would love Mom to find someone she stays married to for more than a year or two. I think it’s very generous of my father considering the hell he went through with Mom.
Sometimes, I wonder if she’ll ever find true contentment and inner peace. She never seems happy even if that’s the front she portrays. Deep down, I think she’s riddled with insecurities and incapable of lasting happiness. It makes me sad. I remind myself of this at times when I’m close to losing my patience with her. She loves interfering in my life, believing she knows better than I do about what’s best for me. Her meddling drives me insane even if I know she believes it’s coming from the best place.