Page 21 of Drop Shot
“No lies have been told, Mom. This is pretty new. No secrets have been kept from you. Promise.” She sighs, lips downturned with doubt. “I’m serious, Mom. Cross my heart.”
“All right.” She raises her hand in a gesture that she’s going to let it go, but knowing her I highly doubt that’s the truth. “I see the chemistry. It just doesn’t seem plausible you two would’ve been able to ignore it until now.”
I stifle the urge to retort that there’s no chemistry, but that would be a dead giveaway that something’s not right with this situation and it would send her mom senses tingling.
“Of course you see chemistry,” I reason. “We’re dating.”
She purses her lips and I know she still isn’t quite buying it, but by some miracle she doesn’t press further.
We work in companionable silence until it’s interrupted by Elias poking his head in the kitchen. I can’t help but wonder what he thinks of the bright green cabinets and pink quartz countertops. It’s not the norm, that’s for sure, but I wouldn’t expect anything less from my parents.
“I was wondering if I could get some more lemonade?” He holds out his empty glass.
My mom beams with pride, quickly hurrying over to snag the glass from him. “You liked it?”
“Like is an understatement, ma’am. That’s the best lemonade I’ve ever had.”
“That’s quite the compliment, and please, call me Jules.”
He works his charm, giving my mom his signature smile, dimple popping in his cheek. “Jules.”
I swear my mom is blushing. I shake my head and try not to laugh. This man.
“Lunch is almost ready. I hope you’re hungry,” she tells him, handing him a newly full glass.
“I’m always hungry.”
“Perfect. Tell Junie Bug to wash up and show you outside to the table.”
He sips at the lemonade, watching me over the rim. I’m not sure what he may be trying to read in my expression so I’m careful to keep my face blank.
“Will do.”
My mom and I assemble the sandwiches and carry them outside, my dad joining us from his office I presume. Once we have an assortment of chip bags on the table and a full pitcher of lemonade, we dig in to eat.
The BLT might be one of the simplest sandwiches to make but there’s something special about my mom’s version. Despite making them with her, I’ve never been able to recreate them in the same way on my own.
“This is great,” Elias says. “A truly spectacular sandwich.”
I have to smother the urge to roll my eyes at his over the top compliment.
“My mom is a sandwich master,” Juniper says, smiling around a gaping bite missing from her own sandwich.
“You all are too kind.”
Clearing his throat, my dad says, “So, when do you kids hit the road again?”
“This next tournament is in Miami so we’re still here for a little while yet,” Elias explains. “Have you ever been to a match?”
“No, we’ve never been,” my mom says at the same time that my dad says, “I prefer golf.”
As eclectic as my parents are it always manages to amaze me that my dad actually enjoys golf.
“If you’d like to attend one, I’d be happy to get you all tickets. You can sit with Whimsy.”
Both of their eyes go to Junie. I know what they’re thinking. Tennis is a sport in which the spectators are expected to be quiet. It’s impolite to call out, scream, or even have your phone make a sound. Junie, with her autism, doesn’t always understand the social cues necessary of certain situations.
“That’s a lovely invitation,” my mom says. “I’ll check our schedules.”
