Page 15 of The Match

CHAPTER 7

Evie

I’m running behind. Great. Mom’s going to love it when I show up to this swanky restaurant in my tennis shoes an entire (gasp) five minutes late.

I can picture her now, sitting at the table, tapping her French-manicured nails, apologizing to the waiter for her inconsiderate daughter causing such an inconvenience to him and his fine establishment. As if he really cares that I’ve delayed their ordering by five minutes. She’s also probably given him at least one other example of when I’ve let her down during my lifetime.

As Charlie and I spring from the Uber and dash into the restaurant, I’m almost willing to bet all twenty-six dollars in my bank account that our waiter knows I turned down the Tyler Murray’s hand in marriage.

I approach the table just in time to see my mom finishing up a monologue. The waiter looks at me with pity swimming in his eyes. I smile at the poor man who will have to wait on us this evening, because I know that no amount of money will be enough to erase the backhanded compliments my mom will offer our lowly servant tonight.

“Well?” I ask him. “Do you think I should have accepted his proposal or not?”

The waiter presses his lips together in an apologetic smile. Listen, lady, I just want a good tip tonight.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Evelyn Grace, don’t be so dramatic.”

I turn my eyes to the woman I’m forced to call Mother and suppress my overwhelming desire to laugh. I’m dramatic? The very lady who has probably alerted the whole serving staff of this restaurant to the fact that I’m five minutes late is calling me dramatic?

“Hi, Mom. Dad.” I pull out my chair and sit down, and Charlie takes his rightful place at my feet.

Dad gives me a halfhearted smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and grunts, going right back to perusing the menu he has held in front of his face like it’s Captain America’s shield. He’s been to enough of these “family” dinners. He knows how it’s going to go down, and he is not excited about it. That makes two of us, buddy. I wish I could check out like he has since I was sixteen years old.

Charlie senses my tension. He lies on my feet and keeps glancing up at me.

“I assume you have a good reason for being late to our dinner?” My mom doesn’t even wait for my butt to warm the seat before she begins her berating.

“Yep. I sure do.” I lift my menu and begin reading. Goodness, I hope they are paying for dinner tonight; otherwise, I’ll have to ask for a nice crisp water and a side of free cherries from the bar.

“Do you care to explain what that reason might be?” She’s blinking at me so rapidly I consider suggesting some eye drops.

I set down my menu. “I don’t think any reason I give you will be good enough in your eyes for my disgraceful tardiness. So, let’s just pretend that I had to save a child from a burning building and leave it at that.”

This does not make Melony happy. Her bright-pink lips are pressed into a line. “Must you always act as if I’m the devil? Is it really so horrible of me to wish for my daughter to be punctual to an event one of these days?”

Got it. We’ve started the manipulative portion of the evening. That was quick.

I look to my dad, waiting to see if he’s going to perform a miracle and intervene. His menu seems to have only become more engrossing. Stephen King has nothing on this restaurant’s list of dinner options.

I sigh, knowing I need to just say what needs to be said to get through this dinner as fast as possible. “I’m sorry I was late. I was across town training a little girl and her new service dog today. It went a little later than I anticipated, and I had to return the dog to her volunteers for the night.”

This is the part where a mother should say, Oh, I’m so proud of you and the amazing work you do, darlin’!

Not my mom. She looks bored to tears. “You wouldn’t have to be doing all this silly work if you would just take Tyler up on his offer.”

Silly work? I dig my fingernails into my palms to keep from crying at the table. “I can’t believe we are still having this conversation. I’m not going to marry Tyler, Mom. You’ll just have to find some other way to secure the family business, because I don’t care to sacrifice my happiness for it.”

“Again. So dramatic. Tyler would make you plenty happy.”

“How? By parading me around on his arm at cocktail party after cocktail party for the rest of my life?”

She’s giving me a look that says she sees no issues with that scenario. Of course she doesn’t. We couldn’t be less alike if I were an alien freshly beamed down from space.

“Your dad parades me around on his arm, and I happen to love it.”

“Well, I’m glad for you, Mom. But I’m not the same woman as you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course you are. You’re a Jones just like the rest of us. Sooner or later, you’ll get bored with this independent kick you’re on and come to your senses. I just hope that Tyler still wants you when you finally wise up.”

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