Page 75 of Pinkie Promise

That last part is said with a smug smile and zero eye contact. My neck burns red as I release Archer and I grab my jumper from the arm of the couch.

“Hey now,” I mumble, embarrassed as hell. Because yeah, during a couple of Fallon’s shifts last term I stopped by the diner just so that I could flirt with her. But, in my defence, I did time my visits with when I knew my mom wasn’t going to beinthe diner.

I pull the jumper over my head and tug at my hair.

“Please, uh, remember not to mention anything to her,” I say gruffly.

My mom looks up at me like I’m a fucking idiot.

When I asked her to take Fallon on I’d told her the situation: Fallon needed cash but I didn’t want her knowing that I’d pulled strings with my parents to get her the job because, if she knew, she never would have accepted it. At that point she low-key hated my ass, but now that she kind of likes me it’s actually even worse.

Something that my mom is evidently very aware of.

“You really like her?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“She your girlfriend now?”

I roll my shoulders and try to will away the heat in my cheekbones. I swallow hard and rumble, “Uh, kinda.”

“Is it serious?”

I shove my tongue in my cheek and look down at the wooden flooring.

My mom rolls her eyes. “So how exactly are you going to get her to ‘meet the parents’ at some point when she’s already technicallymet your mom?”

I rub my hand down over my jaw. Yeah, as soon as I’d made the plan I’d realised how terrible it was, but in the moment it had seemed like the right thing to do. A way to help Fallon with her financial predicament and also, you know, maybe get a little closer to her.

“I’ll think of something,” I mutter quietly. Knowing that I’m lying to Fallon every moment that I don’t tell her that she’s working at my family’s business is making my temples throb like hell. I honest to God can’t think of a way out of this fuck-up.

Maybe we’ll just never do the meet the parents thing. I mean, given her parental situation I don’t know if she’d ever want me meeting hers, so maybe I could just do the same–?

“If you’re thinking about never getting her to meet your parents right now, so help me Lord,” my mom says, and I press my palm into my forehead, letting out a pained laugh.

“Get outta my head,” I mumble, but we share a smile anyway. I know that she’s looking out for me, and she knows that I’ll try my damn hardest to make this right. “I’m meeting up with her now,” I admit as I trudge to the doorway to pull my boots on. My mom follows me with Wren, who’s watching me curiously from her arms. “Taking her to the rink.”

Originally I was going to bring one of my siblings with me but I’ve had them skating hard over Christmas and, if it’s just the two of us, I’ll get to have one-hundred percent of Fallon’s attention.

“Have a lovely time,” my mom says. Then she pointedly adds, “Be safe.”

My eyes flash to hers and a silent conversation passes between us. I mean, she’s one to fucking talk. I’m almost twenty-two and my parents are barely forty. Do the math.

“We haven’t got there yet,” I grunt reluctantly, because apparently I don’t have a filter when it comes to my mom. My skin is on fire I’m so damn embarrassed.

She nods at me anyway, her expression composed and kind. “It isn’t my business, but I want what’s best for you is all. Be seein’ you.”

I let the kids hug at my legs again before tipping my chin at her and heading out to my truck.

“Be seein’ you.”

*

I text Fallon’s phone as soon as I pull up outside of the condo, stepping down from my truck and rounding the hood to head towards her building. The weather still isn’t great but it’s not as hostile as it was a few weeks ago, so with the roads being constantly managed we’ll get to the rink hassle-free.

I’m about to start crossing the lot towards the entrance of the building when Fallon suddenly appears, her petite form bundled up under a big white puffer jacket. I stop dead in the road, feeling like a huge weight has just lifted from my chest.

She has a soft lilac scarf wrapped around her neck and she’s wearing a pair of skin-tight leggings. The second that she spots me I swear she almost trips over her little snow boots, her cheeks flushing pink and her hands moving to her earmuffs, stroking over the fur as if she needs something to do with her hands.

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