Page 53 of Calling the Shots

Tell me it’s been forever since you’ve had a boyfriend without telling me it’s been forever since you’ve had a boyfriend.

“Mom, you didn’t need to go to all this trouble.” I motion at the decked-out table, the white linen napkins and the champagne flutes.

“What? Of course I did! It’s not every day that your only daughter brings home a handsome boyfriend!” My mom bats her eyes at Mack, and hot humiliation washes over me.

“Thanks, Mrs. Reynolds. I didn’t mean to put you out, though. Anything I can do to help?” Mack tips his head toward my mom standing at the stove, his voice sincere.

“No, no, definitely not. Have a seat and Gracie will get you a drink.” My mom waves her hand in my direction, not-at-all subtly directing me to open the champagne.

Good gravy.

This is beyond embarrassing. Honestly, I’d love to melt into the wooden floorboards right now and disappear until after dinner’s over.

Since that’s not a feasible option, I grab the wine from the counter and peel off the foil wrapper. Wedging the bottle against my stomach, I aim away from Mack and my mom and try to pry the cork out.

It doesn’t budge, not even a little bit.

“Shit,” I mutter, yanking at the stopper. I struggle for another solid thirty seconds and sweat beads at my hairline.

“Let me.” Mack stands and takes the champagne from my hands, wiggling the cork from side to side before popping it off. A tiny sigh escapes from the bottle along with an exhale of white mist.

Damn. He made that look easy.

I snag the flutes from the table, and he pours each of us a glass of sparkly champagne.

“Thanks.” I accept the beverage gratefully, downing half of the wine before he sets the bottle down. Figure I’m going to need the liquid boost to sit through this meal.

“So…how long have you two been together?” My mom screws up her lips and gives me a pointed stare.

Mack clears his throat and takes a big slug of his drink, so I field question number one.

“A little while. Not long really. Although if Jamie Ware happens to mention it, we’ve been together since this summer.”

“This summer?” My mom’s brows crush in confusion. “What?”

“It’s a long and twisty story.” I shake my head and Mack chuckles. “Don’t worry about the details.”

“Hmmm.” My mother shoots me a disapproving look, then pivots back to the saucepan. “Dinner is ready.”

Turning off the heat, she brings the spaghetti sauce and pasta over to the table. I grab the salad and a basket of garlic bread, and the three of us settle in for dinner.

“Smells great, Mrs. Reynolds. Thanks for cooking.” Mack spreads his napkin over his lap, perfectly at ease sitting down to a semi-formal dinner with my mother.

“Oh, my pleasure. I’m always happy to entertain Gracie’s friends.” She puts special emphasis on the wordfriends, beaming at him, and a tiny part of me dies inside.

This is so fucking awkward.Reminding me exactly why I don’t introduce guys to my mom and I sure as hell don’t have them over for dinner. Well, that and the fact that no guy ever sticks around long enough to get invited.

“Please, go ahead and start.” My mother slides the salad bowl across to Mack, and I reach over and pluck a piece of garlic bread from the basket. Shooting me the evil eye, she snatches the basket away and offers it to Mack instead. “Fresh bread?”

Oh geez.Now she’s acting like the perfect Southern hostess, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Dinner with my mom typically involves the microwave and some frozen entrée we shovel straight out of the plastic container onto paper plates.

Holding in my eye roll, I chug the rest of my champagne and pour another glass.

“Want some?” I slosh the bottle in the air at Mack.

“I’m good for now.”

“Suit yourself.” I sip at the golden bubbly and wait until Mack’s plate is full before I attempt to serve myself.

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