Page 74 of Better Luck Next Time

He tucked his phone into his pocket and got out of the car, his mother disappearing behind the curtain instantly.

No one opened the door for him, even though they clearly knew he’d arrived, not that he was surprised. Proper etiquette required him, as the visitor, to ring the bell, which he did.

His mother answered the door then, taking him in from head to toe before she leaned in so he could kiss her cheek.

“You haven’t cut your hair since the last time I saw you,” she said.

It had been before the article. Before his fight with River. Before Adalia. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“I know,” he said, touching it self-consciously. “I need to look for a new stylist. Sorry I’m late.”

“That’s okay,” she said, smiling a little. “Don’t tell your father, but I like the curl. It reminds me of how mine looks naturally.”

He wouldn’t know—she flat-ironed or curled it every morning, and had for as long as he could remember. It was part of the performance she put on for the other ladies in her circle, part of what he thought of as the show. And he hated it.

But he didn’t hate her, so he just said, “Thanks, Mom,” and followed her into the house, shutting the door behind him. “I’ll get my bag later. I know I got here late.”

“It’s no trouble. Just wash your hands and join us in the dining room. Your father didn’t want to keep our guest waiting, so we’ve already sat down for some wine and appetizers.”

For a moment his mind hung on the wine part—had his parents ever actually tried Big Catch beer? He genuinely didn’t know. Then the rest of her statement filtered in.

“Guest?”

“Oh, didn’t we tell you?” She shook her head a little as if to say,Silly me, those memories keep slipping out of my head, but he knew better. This was an intentional type of not telling that meant he absolutely did not want to meet their dinner guest.

Because the last time he saw his father, he’d admitted that he was interested in a woman, and his father was not the kind of man who enjoyed allowing people to choose for themselves what he could instead choose for them.

But it was too late to leave—wasn’t it?—and he really did want to take the meeting with the Charlotte Robotics guys, so he washed his hands like a good, obedient son. Before he left the bathroom, he snuck a peek at his phone.

Adalia had finally written her message, although he had no way of knowing if it was the original message she’d intended to write:Wish you were here.

He replied before leaving the bathroom:Believe me, so do I.

She’d said River and Georgie were there too, along with Dottie. They’d probably hand heaping dishes of food around family style, and he was sure someone would throw a treat or two to the dog and even the cat.

That kind of scene would never, ever happen here.

Sighing, he left the bathroom—staying in there for the next two hours wasn’t really feasible—and headed into the dining room. Just as he’d expected, his father sat at the head of the table, a beautiful woman in the chair next to him. Her blond hair was long and wavy and very orderly, which only made him miss the wild mass of Adalia’s short curls.

“Ah,” his father said, “look who decided to make an appearance.”

“Hi, Dad,” he said, turning on the charm. His mother wasn’t the only one who knew how to act when the occasion required it. “And who’s this?”

“This is Charlotte Davis. She’s Bud’s daughter. She just moved back home from Chapel Hill, and Bud thought she might appreciate meeting some young people. Since you were already coming to town for the meeting, it seemed just the thing.”

Bud was the one funding the robotics start-up. So his dad wanted to set him up with a Charlotte so he would move to Charlotte, where he could work at Charlotte Robotics. When he crafted a life plan for someone, he was really thorough.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said, nodding.

She smiled at him and lifted a hand, holding it up toward his mouth. Did she think he was going to kiss her hand?

Finn shook it instead.

He expected her expression to turn peeved, but her smile just seemed a little more fixed. A little more plastic.

“Pleased to meet you too, Finn. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good stuff, I hope?” he asked, only then realizing that the table had been set in such a way that he had no choice but to sit next to her. He circled around it and took his seat, pouring himself a liberal amount of wine.

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