Page 86 of Getting Over You

“Looks like I’m having dinner with you and mommy, princess,” I muse. “It won’t be all bad.”

“For you?” Gigi counters. “Because for me, it’s my worst nightmare.”

When I knock on the door to Belinda’s house the following evening, I consider running back to the truck and driving off. Only for a split second. But I consider it.

Dinner with a girl’s parents? I’ve never done that. It’s not on my to-do list, and I’m damn sure having me over for dinner with her mother isn’t part of Gigi’s plan to get me to change my mind about us.

Even if it was, there’s no way in hell. Shit like this makes me want to run for the hills.

“Come in,” Belinda croons as she opens the door. “I’m just finishing up the salad.”

She’s wearing a snug maroon dress, showing far too much cleavage. I tear my eyes away once I realize Belinda is trying to get me to look at her rack.

“Like the dress?” she whispers as I walk in. “I do, too.”

“Where’s Gigi?” I ask stiffly. The sooner there’s a buffer here, the better.

“She’s finishing getting ready,” Belinda tells me as she walks into the kitchen. “I picked out a dress for her. You’ll like it. It’s just like mine.” I hear clattering in the kitchen, water running. “Why don’t you say hello to my friend?”

Friend? She has a friend over for this thing?

I take a few steps into the living room. There’s a guy sitting on the couch, wearing thick frames and a tweed jacket. At least I think it’s tweed. I’ve never actually seen it up close. He looks like a tweed guy, if I had to guess.

“Hey,” he says, standing as he notices me. He sticks a hand out. “I’m Marcus.”

“Marcus,” I say, nodding. “Cade.”

We shake and sit on opposite sides of the couch while we wait for Belinda and Gigi.

“Marcus,” I mutter, because I can’t help it. “Tell me something, bud.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“Belinda?” I whisper-yell. “Have you met her? Dude, we’re the same age. You know that, right? Welookthe same age.”

He chuckles, low. “This is a bucket list for me. If I have to drink some wine, schmooze, and laugh a little, I will.”

I can’t imagine sleeping with Belinda Elliott being on anyone’s bucket list. The thought makes me shutter, my stomach twisting. “Better you than me,” I say.

He smirks slyly. This idiot really thinks he hit the jackpot with that woman.

Farthest thing from, buddy.

Now, her daughter, on the other hand—

Well, Gigi is certainly someone’s jackpot to win. If they care to gamble.

My phone buzzes. I pull it from my pocket and it’s a text from Gigi:

Look at THIS!!! I don’t want to come downstairs in this! I CAN’T!!!

The dress is navy blue, a dangerously low neckline, even for Gigi. It’s too tight, like Belinda purposely bought an extra small so she could tell Gigi she needs to shed a few.

It’s not the best.You don’t want to match mommy on a date.

Thank you for being honest.I’m changing.

Another buzz:

---