Page 51 of Dear Adam
“Touché,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “But my real ride back in California was a truck, just so you know.”
“I love to pollute the air I breathe, too,” I say with squinty eyes and the meanest look I can muster.
“Woah, what’s got you in such a bad mood?” He backs away with his hands in the air.
“I have a mandatory family dinner tonight at my parents’. It should be fine, though.”
“Why is that?” he asks, frowning in suspicion.
“You’re coming with me.”
“You want me to come to dinner at your parents’ house? I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been inside your house, and it was never once for a family dinner.” He rakes a hand through his perfectly combed hair, somehow managing to make it look even better.
“I ate dinner with your parents,” I point out.
“But my parents are a lot more…approachable than yours.”
“They are,” I agree. “But if you came, it would make this unbearable dinner a little more bearable.” With puppy dog eyes, I tack on, “Please?”
“I was actually going to see if you wanted to go to dinner tonight,” he says, and his polished appearance makes more sense.
“Perfect, so you’re free. We’ll still be eating dinner together,” I say. “Just with some snooty, stick-up-the-butt company.”
Riding around in the Teenie Mobile has become second nature to me. Honestly, I’ve grown quite fond of the eyelashes on the headlights and the purple under glow. I should put a bug in Teenie’s ear that if she ever wants to sell it, I call first dibs. But, driving the Teenie Mobile through the wrought iron gates of my parent’s mansion and parking next to their fancy cars has me stifling a fit of giggles.
“I knew I should’ve traded cars with my dad before coming here,” Levi mutters with a heavenward glance.
“It’s fine,” I reassure him. “We didn’t have time to trade vehicles anyway.”
We decided to leave both dogs at my cottage in one of the back bedrooms that hadn’t been remodeled yet, just in case. After dropping them off and making sure the room was as puppy proof as possible, we didn’t have time for Levi to swing by his parents and sweet talk his dad into letting him borrow a company truck. Truth be told, Dad would probably frown at a muddy, older model work truck as much as the Teenie Mobile, anyway. I wasn’t about to tell Levi that, though.
Levi gets out and walks around to open my door. He gently takes my hand, and I notice how clammy his is.
“Are you okay?” I ask, giving it a squeeze.
“I’m a little nervous,” he stammers and, despite the warm, summer breeze, he shivers a little.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” I tell him. “They don’t love anyone, not even their two children. So just go into this with the lowest expectations possible, and you won’t be disappointed.”
When we arrive at the large, antique, carved-oak front door, it swings open before we’re given the chance to knock. One of the butlers, dressed in all black, greets us with a warm smile and slow, southern accent.
He shows us to the large formal dining room as if I hadn’t grown up here. An obviously catered meal has been dished out onto fine china in an attempt to make it look homemade, which we all know would never happen. A homemade meal hasn’t been made here since 2002, when Adam and I attempted boxed macaroni and cheese that ended up exploding all over the kitchen. There’s still a dried, crusty noodle on the ceiling, and walking in and noticing that little noodle hanging out, completely out of place in the otherwise sterile and stuffy environment is the only joy this house brings me.
When dad scoots his chair back and walks toward us, Levi audibly swallows beside me and I give his hand an encouraging squeeze.
“Alyson, you didn’t tell us you were bringing a guest,” he says through a tight-lipped smile, holding out a stiff hand to Levi.
“Do you remember Levi?” I ask him, knowing full well he does not. Dad never attended any high school function, let alone took interest in who our friends were.
“Levi…?” he asks, prompting his last name.
“Middleton. You may know my father?” Levi offers.
“Ah, yes. How is he doing? Still playing in the dirt and sand, building homes for those who can’t afford to live downtown, I presume?”
I grimace, and Levi clears his throat, his eyes flashing with anger. “Yes, he’s still the owner and operator of the largest construction company in Charleston, if that’s what you mean.” Dad either brushes off Levi’s reply or wasn’t even paying attention because he turns around and returns to his seat next to mom.
“Hi, Mom,” I say. Her lips are pursed, her face pinched uncomfortably, like maybe her Spanx are too tight.
