Page 16 of That Reunited Feeling

“Oh my God.” Dylan’s mouth is open wide enough for me to shove my whole fist in there. Which I just might have to do to shut him up. To him, Maggie and Jim have just become entirely different people—ones worthy of the respect of any decent teenage alien zapper.

Tom rises leisurely from the island and places his hands on his hips, just above his belt. “You watched the firstOverlord Hybridsfilm?” he asks, with slow, drawn-out skepticism. “And enjoyed it so much you bought tickets to see the sequel at the movie theater?”

“Yup,” Maggie says.

“Absolutely,” Jim adds as if, heaven forfend, anyone should imagine something different. “Amazing, you know…cinematography and…stuff.”

Tom’s eyes meet mine again, and he flicks his brows at me, sending a shudder rippling from my chest to my belly. Which is not good. Not good at all.

“Wow,” Dylan says, pulling away from me. “Wow. So cool.”

“Well now, young man.” Maggie rests a hand on his shoulder. “The thing is, like I said, I’m terrible with technology. Particularly at online ordering. And by total accident?—”

“Oh, do let me guess,” Tom says from behind her.

Maggie ignores him, and focuses on Dylan. “I bought three tickets instead of two.”

Dylan bounces and grabs my arm with a grip that instantly cuts the blood flow to my hand. “Can I, Mom?” It’s hard to tell which is wider, his eyes or his mouth. “Can I? Please.”

Christ, how many parts am I being torn into right now?

One part is all wobbly at the sight of Tom struggling not to laugh, though I’m positive that deep down he’s also a bit pissed off. Another part is furious and outraged that I’m being set up in a way I can’t get out of without appearing incredibly ungrateful. And another is so overwhelmed by Dylan looking the happiest he’s been since we fled to Blythewell that I might be about to burst into tears.

Actually, all three parts make me want to cry.

I swallow hard and take a breath. “Can you what?” My son’s face is full of hope. “No one’s invited you to do anything yet.”

“Would you like the third ticket, Dylan?” Maggie asks. She places her other hand gently on my arm. “If your mom doesn’t mind, of course. But we promise to take good care of you.”

Knowing the five boys she raised—well, four, after Tom went to London—I’m absolutely certain she could cope for oneevening with a thirteen-year-old who’d spend the whole time staring at the big screen in rapt silence.

How can I possibly say no? “Of course. And that’s very thoughtful of you, Maggie.”

It kind of is. And it’s also kind of infuriating. But once they’ve left, I can go straight back next door. I’m sure Tom doesn’t want to spend the evening with me any more than I want to spend it with him.

“Oh, Tom,” Jim says. “I keep forgetting to ask. I think the frost got to the outdoor tap Maggie uses for filling up the watering can. Could you take a look at it sometime?”

Tom opens his mouth, but I get in there first. “I noticed that and fixed it yesterday, Jim. The washer was cracked, so I replaced it. And I’ve wrapped the whole thing in bubble wrap to insulate it. Should be good now.” The skills you learn when you have no money and have to fix everything yourself go a long way.

Tom’s mouth is still open.

Jim’s smile is broad. “Oh, thank you.” He turns to Tom. “She’s always sorting things out before we even know they need sorting. Such a treasure.” He pats the back of my shoulder as he walks by toward the door.

“Well.” Jim jangles the keys. “Hybrid Lords, here we come.”

“Overlord Hybrids,” Dylan corrects, breaking into a trot behind him.

“Hey, Dylan,” I shout after him. “Go to your room to get your ear plugs first.”

“Sure.” His reply trails off as he disappears out the front door with Jim.

“Don’t worry,” Maggie says, full of gentle motherly concern. “I’ll make sure he wears them. Now. You two,” she says purposefully, spreading her arms as if trying to pull Tom and me together. “All the food is prepared. It’s in the fridge. All cold. No cooking to do. Just enjoy it.”

“Oh, honestly,” I say, avoiding Tom’s brown eyes. There’s no way I’m having dinner with him. How could I sit across the table from a man who treated me the way he did? And a man I kind of yelled at the other day. I mean, who’d want to spend time with a girlfriend abandoner who looks so irritatingly sexy in a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans? “I’ll just?—”

“Please.” Maggie looks from me to Tom and back to me. “Enjoy.”

She lifts her purse strap from the crook of her elbow up to her shoulder and trots through the kitchen door. “Wait for me!” she calls as she disappears. “You know how I love those robots.”

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