Page 18 of Forgettable in Every Way

Oh, please tell me she didn’t actually say that. It was almost enough for me to jump in and save Simon, who was clearly uncomfortable, given the way he rubbed the back of his neck and swallowed hard. My mom had turned into a rabid cougar. But ... then I remembered I was on the road to recovery, and I wasn’t going to let the universe nor Simon derail me. There was no way I was giving Simon the opportunity to forget about me again.

Mom grabbed the bag of Thai food off the island and then grabbed Simon before pulling him out the door. The delicious smells of garlic, ginger, and coriander floated in the air after them.

Simon’s eyes pleaded with me to save him. Not a chance. This would teach him not to come over here and torture me with his crooked smile and gorgeous face.

“Do you think you could carry a pitcher of water, Sir Jack?” I smiled at the cutest boy in the world.

“Yes, Princess,” he assured me.

I was going to miss being a princess and I was going to miss Jack. I got a tray out and filled it with plates, glasses, and silverware before grabbing the pitcher of water from the refrigerator. I admit to taking my time. Not that I approved of my mom’s behavior, but Simon needed to get to the place where he was going to run screaming from this house and never return.

Jack did a great job, carefully holding the pitcher as we walked toward the “veranda” door.

Unfortunately, Simon got all chivalrous and rushed to open the door for us. “Let me take that tray for you.”

Normally, I was a big fan of chivalry, especially when it came with a delectable British accent, but this was no time for Simon to be, well, like Simon. Truly, I’d never know a lovelier soul. Even if he’d forgotten about me. Or maybe he was just trying to get away from my mom, who was scrolling her phone and fanning herself.

“Oh my,” she exclaimed. “Look at you, Simon.”

Without thinking, I handed the tray over to Simon, curious as to why my mom looked like she was having the mother of all hot flashes. If she grabbed an ice cube and started rubbing it down her chest, I would deem the dinner party over and then pack my bags and drive straight home to LA. Perhaps I should think about that idea, anyway. I mean, my parents had more than enough money to hire professionals to pack and redecorate the house. Except, I knew how uncomfortable it would make Dad. I don’t even think he enjoyed having me here. I don’t think he enjoyed anything right now. If only I could change that. Ugh. I guess that meant I had to stay.

“Julia, did you know Simon was an actor and a model? Look at these pictures.” She turned her phone so fast I didn’t have time to react, other than to grip the chair nearest me made of solid eucalyptus wood. My mom mentioned her “veranda” furniture to me every time I visited. Apparently, eucalyptus wood was crazy durable. But not even thoughts of my mom’s obsession with her veranda furniture could save me from the vision before my eyes. There, in all his glory, was Simon—in a barely-there towel, beads of water dripping down his ripped chest while he held up his arm, showcasing an expensive watch on his wrist. I was going to need a dozen ice cubes for my chest, stat.

I pressed my lips together, squeezing the life out of the chair, trying not to fantasize about asking Simon what time it was all night long.

Simon sidled up next to me and set the tray on the table. His delicious, woodsy scent wasn’t helping the situation any. I was about to grab the pitcher of water from Jack and douse myself with it.

“Ah, that was from the campaign I did with Specula Watches in London,” Simon said, like it was no big deal.

I wasn’t sure what being wet and mostly naked had to do with selling watches, but I was ready to buy one.

“What do you think, Julia?” Mom asked, conspiratorially, while wagging her brows.

Oh, I thought about some things all right. My head went from playing “So This Is Love” on repeat to “Let’s Get It On.” I’m pretty sure that was Calista and Tristan’s theme song. This was so, so wrong. I had spent years resisting the urge to look Simon up, and in one fell swoop, Mom proved to me why I was right in doing so. The last thing I needed was to know exactly what I had been missing out on. Now there was no forgetting it.

“Julia?” Mom said when I didn’t answer.

The only thing I could articulate was, “That’s a nice watch.”

Mom looked down her nose at me like I had lost my mind.

What else was I supposed to say? Oh, baby, take me now? Or comment on the glorious sinewy lines of his body? His son was standing next to me. And it’s not like Simon wanted me to think about him in that way. He hadn’t even thought about me at all in the last twelve years since I’d last seen him, as far as I could tell.

“Ouch, love.” Simon nudged me like it was old times between us. Oh yes, I knew all about how he used the term love to charm people. It was me who’d told him that American women went gaga over that sort of thing. For whatever reason, we loved all things British, especially their men. I blame Tom Hiddleston and Idris Elba. Oh, and Simon. Oh, did I ever blame him.

Regardless of how I tried not to be affected by Simon’s playful touch, it still made my stomach do a few thousand flips like it was going for a gold medal in gymnastics. “I like a good watch,” I lamely defended myself.

Mom crinkled her brow at me. I didn’t have the guts to look at Simon for his reaction.

“Well, listen to this.” Mom refused to be deterred by my lack of enthusiasm. “Simon narrates romance books.”

“Be careful, Sandra,” Simon warned. “Most of those books are not safe for work, as we say in the business.”

“Even better,” Mom purred.

I shuddered. I didn’t even know my mom could purr. This was knowledge I could have done without. “Um, I think we should eat.”

“You’re not being very fun,” Mom admonished me.

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