Page 19 of Curveball: The Baby and the Grump

With a sigh, I give in. “I made lunch reservations. Don’t argue and don’t complain, because it’s all on me and I’m not listening to any of your arguments.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” she says, though she doesn’t stop grinning. Damn her.

We rock up at my mom’s house, and as I pull up her drive, I glance nervously at Freya out of the corner of my eye to try and gauge her reaction. The house isn’t as big as mine, but it’s not small either, and it’s got everything she could ever need. We might not be close exactly, but I wouldn’t let her struggle either. No matter what, she’s still my mom.

“Nice place,” is all Freya says.

I’ve started to learn her smiles as I’ve gotten to know her, and this is not one of her genuine ones. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes all the way.

“You can stay here if you want,” I say. “I’ll only be two minutes. I’m just going to give her these.”

I gesture to the flowers on the back seat then go to open my door, only to be interrupted by Freya. “I can come too. If it’s okay with you. I’d like that.”

We don’t get to discuss it any further, though, because a second later, before I can even think about how to persuade Freya not to come, my mother bursts out the front door and comes barreling towards us like she hasn’t seen me in years. I guess it has been a couple of months since I spoke to her.

That thought is a stab of guilt right in the stomach. “Hi, Mom,” I say with a grimace.

“Hi, sweetie,” she says planting a kiss on my cheek as she wraps me in her arms. “What are you doing here?”

Feeling awkward, I wrap my arms around her and throw Freya a grumpy face over her shoulder. But I can’t make myself mean it, because after the month I’ve had, being enveloped in my mother’s arms is kind of nice after all. “Present,” is all I can manage, grabbing the flowers for her.

“Baby, these are gorgeous,” she grins. It takes all I’ve got not to react. “And who’s your friend?”

As my mom looks her up and down, discomfort washes from Freya in waves, and I feel bad about even deciding to do this at all. I should have known that my mother would react like this. She’s so embarrassing. “This is Freya, my nurse,” I say quickly to try and dissipate any sorts of ideas in my mom’s mind about what we could be.

“Your nurse? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Nearly broke my arm — that’s all.”

“Oh, honey. Are you going to be better in time for the playoffs?”

“Yes,” I snap, not in any way needing to be reminded about that disaster looming. “That’s why I’m taking it easy now. There’s no way I’m going to give myself a permanent injury and miss out on the rest of my career.”

Mom takes me in her arms again. “That’s my boy. You always were too sensible. I’m sure you don’t need to be kept in line. Always got a mind on work.” Then to Freya, she says, “My Jackie’s never had reason smile about anything.”

I grimace hard at that, because of course what she’s really saying is that I don’t make enough time for her, and I’ve never been a team player, and I’m a disappointment to the family. It’s what she’s thinking, even if she won’t say it.

“Come on in, both of you. You must be hungry; it’s lunchtime.”

“No, we’re okay,” I start, but at the same time Freya says, “That would be great. Thanks.”

We share a confused look, but an inch is all my mother needs, and before we know it, we’re being herded inside to face whatever Mom is going to throw at us next.

CHAPTER 12

FREYA

Iclasp my hands beneath the table and smile awkwardly at Jackson. He isn’t looking at me, though. He’s looking at his mother, who’s on the phone talking animatedly to his brother. This was clearly not on his agenda for today, and I almost feel bad for him about it. Almost. He clearly had a plan.

But his mom seems cool, though. Obviously, it’s impossible to really know what’s going on with anyone’s family behind the scenes, but from the outside, I can’t understand why Jackson doesn’t want to spend more time with her. She has been nothing but wonderful to me.

Then again, she did basically forbid Jackson from leaving, because when he tried to get us out of it, she told us that he wasn’t allowed to leave under any circumstances and that she was going to call his brother over to join them.

Jackson did not look delighted about this. And I guess I can understand why. Family is complicated.

“I’m going to have to call the restaurant,” he mutters, partly to me but mostly to himself. “Do you know how hard it is to get reservations at that place?”

“It’s okay, Jackson, really. You don’t need to take me to lunch at all.”

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