Page 12 of Suddenly Single

“Yes you are.”

“No, it’s not a lie to say nothing. Just pretend like that letter never came. If no one knows about it, it can’t be true.” Mom looped her arm through mine and led us toward the stairs. The home was three stories, with brilliant stained glass windows along the staircase.

“Mom, that’s cheating, and you know it. Honesty is always the best.”

Mom stopped in her tracks and turned to me. “If you were dealing with a normal family, I’d agree with you. But these people are abnormal. They are billionaires who live their entire lives being waited on hand and foot by that old black woman.”

“Mom, Florida is family, and they treat her like gold. Like, she seriously doesn’t have to work another day in her life. They fully funded her pension years ago. She stays because she loves them, and they love her.” I sighed, knowing how Florida felt. When I moved to the Yates estate, I felt awkward getting used to their lifestyle. But the family embraced me with open arms, and the thought of giving them up because of an awful bureaucratic mixup made me want to chow down on all the carbs. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and when I reached for it, Mom stopped me.

“Telling the truth could mean the end of your privileged life.” She whispered. “When you were a little boy, I promised myself that you’d live better than I did. Now you want to throw it all away by telling those billionaire lawyers the truth? I didn’t raise you to be stupid, Carter.”

It wasn’t until we got in the car that I remembered that someone had texted me. I glanced at the screen of my phone and grinned. “Aww. Asher wants to take me to this romantic Italian restaurant in Goochland we used to go to when we were dating.” I tapped out a quick message, telling him I’d meet him there after dropping Mom off at her place. Maybe things weren’t as bad as I thought they were.

“What’s the name of it?” Mom asked.

“Pastabilities. It’s a few miles west of Short Pump Town Center on Broad Street.” I grinned. “Maybe you’re right Mom. At least for tonight, I won’t say a word about this mess to Asher.”

She patted my knee. “Mother always knows best."

After dropping off Mom, I raced to the restaurant, a perma-grin stretched across my cheeks. I switched on the Beyonce album we’d fallen in love with, remembering how we used to dance to it next to the river behind the Yates home. Or how we’d fool around in the abandoned boathouse by the pier.

“You were such a romantic, Asher.” I sighed, then checked my reflection in the rearview mirror one last time before arriving at the restaurant. “I love you so damned much.”

When I drove up, Asher was leaning against his Jaguar in the parking lot across the street from Pastabilities. He looked so dashing, wearing a casual Ben Sherman outfit I’d bought him. I loved the retro feel of the stripes, and how the sweater was molded to his muscular arms. But something felt off. Why was Asher shaking his head like that?

“Is something wrong?” I asked as I got out of the car. “You don’t look thrilled to…”

Asher pointed at the restaurant.

“Oh. Wow, what happened to this place?” I muttered. What had once been a charming eatery now appeared to be on its last legs. The restaurant was in an old, white plantation house. There used to be tables and giant ferns on the large patio out front where we’d drink wine. Now they were gone. When we first started dating, we’d come here because none of our friends or family knew about it, and we could be alone. Glancing down at my feet, there was garbage strewn across the parking lot.

“Do you think it’s still open?” Asher asked. “There’s only two other cars in the lot.”

One of them was a beat-up Volkswagen Beetle, with patches of rust dotting the exterior. The other was an ancient pickup truck with hippy bumper stickers. Peace signs, and hearts.

“Let’s go somewhere else, Carter. This isn’t anything like the place we used to love.” Asher put his hands on my shoulders and pecked my cheek. “We could head downtown and hang out in Shockoe Slip.”

“No.” I took his hand, and we crossed the street. “It might be a little rundown, but maybe the inside is better.” We needed to reconnect, because the last few days had been hellish. I wanted our romance back, and maybe coming to Pastabilities was the way to do it.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

A minute later, we pushed open the entrance, and both of us gasped. A sign was strung up over the hostess station saying it was under new management. It was partially ripped, and a layer of dust sat on every available surface. There was nobody inside, or at least that’s what we thought. Somebody coughed, and Asher yelled out, “Is there anyone here?”

An old man shuffled out and looked shocked to see us.

“We used to come here a few years ago and eat at a table on the patio.” I forced a grin on my face. “Would it be possible to put one out there? We’d love to…” I began, and the man cut me off.

“We don’t do that anymore.” He said, and I noticed a gravy stain on his white shirt.

“If I pay you an extra $50, would you mind moving a table outside?” Asher asked, and the man’s eyes lit up.

“No problem, sir. Lorrie!” The man called out. A skinny older woman who looked like she’d gone to Woodstock in the sixties and never recovered from the experience, strolled out. She was wearing love beads around her neck, and her straight white hair hung to her waist. “Yeah, Bubba?”

“Help me move a table out on the patio. Oh, and bring some candles. It’s getting dark outside and the bulbs blew out a few days ago.” The man ordered, and the woman scowled. So much for peace, love, and understanding. A few minutes later, the woman seated us, lighting a multi-colored candle with wax dripping down the sides. She placed menus in front of us then hurried away.

“Well, this was unexpected.” Asher winked. “But let’s make the best of it, unless you want to go somewhere else?”

“No, this is fine.” I muttered, dread washing through me. A moment later, four motorcycles parked across the street. Asher reached out to take my hand, but one glance at the bikers heading our way made him withdraw it. No use provoking the rednecks. Their leather jackets were covered in rebel flags, and one of the guys had a bump under his lip. Probably chewing tobacco.

---