Page 20 of If You Need Me

“Perfect. I’ll hit the market today and make a fresh pie this afternoon.” Mom’s voice is giddy with excitement. Her pies win awards every summer.

“That sounds great, Mom, but?—”

She cuts me off before I can express my concerns about the possibility of Willy murdering me over dinner with my family. As if the celebrity event isn’t stressful enough.

“No buts, sweetie. We want to celebrate this new relationship. Don’t you worry, we’ll embrace her wholeheartedly, even though you didn’t tell us before you told the rest of the world.”

Yeah, she’s stuck on that point.

“I really am sorry about that.”

“I know. You’re my impulsive one. I’ll message when we’re on our way down. Oh! And I’ll bring Grandma Bippy’s engagement ring!”

“Mom, we just started dating.”

“You’ve been in love with her forever and it’s important to be prepared. Besides, neither of your brother’s even have a girlfriend, so there’s no way they’ll be proposing anytime soon. And your sister is too busy to date.” She sighs forlornly. “Anyway, for the family dinner, I’ll cook so it can be nice and intimate. I can’t wait to see Wilhelmina all grown up! Love you. Bye, sweetie.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

She ends the call before I can protest. It sucks that I’ve gotten her hopes up to the point that she’s bringing “the ring.” Whoever gets engaged first is the proud owner of great-grandma Bippy’s rare blue diamond ring.

“Shit.” I run a hand through my hair. My hole keeps getting deeper. Wills is already pissed at me for being an idiot. I can’t see her being thrilled about a meet-the-parents dinner date. We haven’t even dealt with our friends, and now this. But there’s no getting out of it.

I can soften the blow of an unexpected family dinner, though. I step out into the warm summer day and head down the street, stopping at the local florist to buy another ostentatiously large bouquet of pink and peach-colored flowers, complete with vase and heart balloon. My next stop is her favorite coffee shop. Treats and flowers are always a winner.

Armed with more flowers and food, I return to the office, butstop at my car to grab one more thing, tucking it into the takeout bag. Unsurprisingly, my raging anxiety boner is back in full force by the time I reach her office. I do some surreptitious rearranging and hope it isn’t obvious as I prepare to knock.

My palms are sweating, my throat is tight, and my heart rate is elevated. Unfortunately, Willy’s anger is preferable to the guilt trip my mother will lay on me if I back out of dinner. It’s an impossible position, but Mom guilt supersedes even clown detail, which is saying something.

I knock on Willy’s door and wait for her “come in” before I poke my head into her office. She fluffs out her hair. She was probably wearing it in a topknot. She does that often in the summer because her hair is so thick. I’m sure the back of her neck gets hot.

Her pen is clamped between her teeth, and she’s wearing my favorite blue-light glasses. The frames are tortoiseshell with baby blue arms. She is stunning.

She removes the pen from between her teeth and glares at me. “Do you want to die today, Dallas?”

“I brought you lunch. And flowers, and I’m sorry.” I envision her stabbing me with the pen in her hand when I tell her the news, which does nothing to calm any part of me down.

Willy frowns as I set the vase of flowers on the small conference table. I edge closer and set the latte and takeout bag on her desk, then quickly step back.

She eyes me with suspicion and crosses her arms. “What did you do now?”

“I didn’t do anything per se.” I back up several steps. I need a quick escape route, and I have the gift of speed on my side. “I thought your office could use a little pop of color.” I motion to the flowers. “And I know you’re busy with last-minute details around the celebrity hockey game this weekend, and you probably haven’t taken a break for lunch, so I brought you something to eat and a latte for your caffeine fix.” I take several more cautious steps backwards.

Willy narrows her beautiful brown eyes at me, then pries the lid off the latte. “Is this the lavender one?”

“Yeah. Half sweet with oat milk.”

“That’s my favorite.” It sounds like an accusation. “Why are you being so nice?”

I swallow loudly. “I’m pre-apologizing through gifts.” I know it will take a lot more than a couple of bouquets of flowers and a lunch or two, but it’s a start. I back up another step.

When I reach the doorway, I rap on the doorframe and blurt, “My parents are coming down for the charity game and they want to have dinner with you after, and I’m sorry about that.” I duck as she hurls a stress ball at my head. She only misses because my reflexes are so good.

“What the hell, Dallas? There’s no way I’m having dinner with your parents. Tell them no.”

“I can’t. My mom’s hurt that I didn’t tell her about us before I posted on social media, which is not your fault, it’s my fault. But she will make dinner happen, Wills. There’s no getting out of it for either of us. She will corner you at the game and insist on making food for you while also reminding you that meals are important and everyone has to eat, and I’m sorry, but it’ll be a great meal. I know you’ll sign me up for clown detail, and that’s something I’ll have to live with. It’ll be really casual. You don’t need to bring anything, just your beautiful self. I’m gonna go before you kill me.”

I book it down the hall, and another stress ball comes flying past me, but I’m fast, and she’s wearing heels, so I outrun her for now.

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