Page 90 of Corkscrew You
And then, shit, Shelby’s right there with them. I was so busy listening, I forgot to keep watching. Don’t signmeup to be the next James Bond.
“Come on, Cam,” Shelby says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “You can choose. Burger at the Silver Saddle, with a side order of surly Brendan. Or terrible pizza, with extra cheese that contains one hundred percent no dairy. What’s it to be?”
And I am overtaken by a jealousy so powerful, I’m glad there’s nothing breakable within easy reach. Fucking MountainMeatheadgets to go to dinner with Shelby and her mother. Gets to laugh and talk with them and have a good time. And sit close to Shelby all evening.
Yeah, OK, so that could be me if I hadn’t been such a jerk. Or if I’d figured out sooner what was stopping me from patching it up with Shelby.
Or if Mountain Mutant was bound and gagged in his shed, unable to move an inch.
My jealous rage is indiscriminate, and it’s making the blood pound so loud in my ears that I only catch the tail end of what Shelby’s mom says.
“… Nathan, too,” is all I hear.
Before I can process the words, the office door is pushed open and there’s the woman herself. I shift hastily from the window, pretend to be heading toward the calendar pinned on the wall.
“Nathan, will you join us at the Silver Saddle?” says Shelby’s mom. “I’ll pick up the check. My way to welcome you to Flora Valley Wines.”
My eye is drawn past her shoulder and out the door, to where Shelby is now standing. Mountain Moron is out of frame, for which I am thankful. Don’t want to see what he thinks of the invitation.
Shelby’s response is pretty obvious. She’s embarrassed. That could be for a lot of reasons. One, moms are always embarrassing. Two, she doesn’t want me to say yes. Three, she knows Cam doesn’t want me to say yes. Four, shedoeswant me to say yes, but isn’t ready to admit it.
Last option is the best. It’s not the one I hold out much hope for being true.
“Thanks,” I say. “But I’ve got a few hours’ work left.”
Not entirely a lie. Though I’d planned on those few hours taking place tomorrow.
“Are you sure I can’t tempt you?” She smiles, and reminds me of Shelby so much, my guts hurt. “The Saddle does a pretty fair T-bone.”
I shake my head, and say, “Next time, ma’am,” using my well-brought-up manners.
“That’s a promise,” she replies. “Don’t worktoohard now, will you? You’re young. You need to enjoy life.”
To my relief, the door is shut again, and I don’t get to see Shelby’s reaction to the news that I won’t be joining them.
Five minutes later, the Dodge rattles into life. If that electric car makes any sound, the Flora Valley Wines truck drowns it out. And then, there’s silence.
They’re off to have a fun, relaxed meal, in a casual environment. A total contrast to tomorrow night’s occasion, which is looming like the shadow of a guillotine. The Durant family dinner.
Shelby will be there, too. But she’ll be there for Ava. Not for me. She might not even speak to me all evening. We certainly won’t laugh and joke.
If I were to follow my own man-up advice, I’d talk to her tomorrow morning, apologize for being a jerk, and tell her how I really feel. Then the dinner might even become enjoyable. Or, at least, bearable.
OK, I will. I’ll talk to her first thing.
There, I said it. Now that, in the word of Shelby’s mom, is a promise.
ChapterThirty-One
SHELBY
I’m up at crack of dawn, because my mother has emotionally blackmailed me into visiting her in her studio. To be fair, she’s had it a while now, and I’ve only seen it in the photos she’s sent. And, as she pointed out, I have Nate now to share the load, so I should be able to takeoneday off without everything falling apart.
Of course, I feel guilty about leaving Nate on his own. But she’s my mother, and mother-guilt trumps anyone else’s. My only condition for the visit is that I have to leave at five sharp, in order to get back to Nate’s house in time for dinner. I’ve packed a change of clothes in the Dodge. Won’t be Bartons dress code level, but I hope it’ll do.
I feed the animals, who are all annoyed at being woken early, even for food. Dylan greeted me and Cam when we came back last night. I offered to drop Cam at his shed, but I think, after that hectic round of socializing, he needed a walk in the calm summer night air. It’s about twenty-five minutes from my place to his, and I’m pretty sure any mugger would think twice about tackling him.
Mom asked Cam to visit, too. But, unlike me, he remained impervious to her blandishments. He was happy to see her, though. Mom’s always been the person Cam’s most comfortable being around.
