Page 62 of Embracing Trust

“I’m not going to be able to stay for dinner after all but thank you for the iced tea and the lovely conversation.”

My lungs deflate like a tire going flat.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Maybe next time.” Mom dries her hands on a dish towel.

And with that, Aubree gives me a wave, heads to her car, and drives away. What just happened is certainly not the eye of the hurricane. This is only the beginning of the storm.

My mom smiles. “What a nice young lady. Too bad she couldn’t join us for dinner.”

I grumble to myself.If only you knew, Mom. We are on the verge of a shitshow.

“Hurry up so it doesn’t get cold,” she calls out as she goes inside.

I hate to break the news to my mom, but we have a lot more things to worry about than whether her roast and mashed potatoes get cold.

I’m falling in love with Julia and Aubree is having my baby.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Ryan

Mom’s roast and mashed potatoes sit in my gut like a cement block. She also served my favorite—apple pie. Although I didn’t feel like eating the dessert, I did. I barely got through dinner, especially when Mom was going on and on about her delightful afternoon with Aubree.

Kill me now.

Aubree spun quite the tale during her visit with Mom including how serious our relationship was.

I pull up on the street in front of Patrick’s house and park my truck. Patrick’s truck and Lydia’s car are on the driveway.

Damn, I was hoping to talk to Patrick alone.

I open the front door and my brother is stretched out in the recliner with a beer in his hand. Lydia is on the couch with her laptop open surrounded by books and papers.

“You’re missing a good game,” Patrick says and nods toward the TV.

Lydia looks up from her laptop. “How was dinner?”

“The food or the conversation?” I ask as I plop down in a side chair.

I’d like to talk to Patrick, but he’s involved in this game, and Lydia is situated for the evening. I wait for a commercial.

Patrick looks over at me. “Help yourself to a beer. I’m sure you need it after dinner with Mom and Dad. Did they convince you to move in with them?”

“No. Not yet.” I stand up. “I think I’ll take you up on that beer.”

I drag myself to the kitchen, grab my favorite ale, and return to the chair. I land on the soft leather with a thud. The advertisements are still on.

“Hey, I know you’re watching this game, but I need to talk to you about something.”

Patrick sets his beer down on the side table and drops the chair from the reclining position. “Everything okay?”

“Not so much.”

Lydia looks between Patrick and me. She closes her laptop, sets it on the coffee table, and stands. “I’ve got some laundry to put away in the bedroom.” She leaves the room.

Once she’s out of sight, Patrick turns off the TV.

“What’s going on?” Patrick’s eyebrows draw together as he scoots closer to the edge of his chair.

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