Page 53 of Things I Wish I Said
“She’s always been a sarcastic little shit,” Mom acknowledges.
I scoff.
“Oh, trust me, I know.” Grayson grins. “Sometimes I have no idea whether she’s being serious or not.”
Mom scoops a bite of potatoes onto her fork. “Likely not. She rarely is these days, especially if it’s over anything serious.”
“And God forbid you give her anything resembling a compliment.”
Mom barks out a laugh while I gape, motioning between them. “I don’t think I like this.”
Grayson snickers. “What? We’re not allowed to get along?”
“No.” I huff, stabbing a bite of chicken.
Grayson winks, and my stomach plummets, my cheeks turning to flames.
“Oh, John, look,” Mom gushes. “She’s blushing.” She elbows him, grinning while my cheeks burn even hotter. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her blush before.”
“Very funny.”
Grayson leans into me, and for one incredulous moment, I think he might kiss me.
I have a flash of panic when I wonder if I want him to, then an even bigger one when I realize I do.
But he doesn’t kiss me.
Instead, he leans into my ear and whispers, “It’s not as fun when the tables are turned, is it, Sinclair?”
He flops back in his chair, a grin stretching his handsome face while I fight the trail of goose bumps his hot breath have left in his wake.
I know he’s referring to the way I teased him in front of Cameron and Hannah. It makes sense he’d enjoy returning the favor with my mother, but I can’t even find it in me to care. All I keep thinking about is that split second I wanted him to kiss me.
Mom smiles, leaning back in her chair, enjoying this boyfriend thing far more than I anticipated. “Can you blame me for worrying about this party, Ryleigh?”
“If it’s any consolation, I promise to keep your daughter safe, and I can assure you that even if there is alcohol I won’t be drinking.”
Mom softens, practically melting at his words. “And you have a safe vehicle?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I bite my lip, watching Grayson and fighting the urge to fan myself because, Lord, he’s hot when he’s being all respectful and shit.
I suppose he was like this the day he met my mother in the hospital, but that meeting was so unexpected, it was a whirlwind, a blur.
“Okay, but if something changes, you’ll call?” Mom asks.
“Yes, Mom, we’ll call,” I say because Grayson’s done enough to reassure her. “I promise. Now can we eat, so we can go?”
Mom grins, and John steps in with small talk about some pitcher in Major League Baseball everyone’s talking about. It’s probably the first time I’ve been grateful for his presence.
Afterward, we quickly help clear the table before Mom shoos us out of the kitchen, which I take as my cue to leave.
Grabbing Grayson’s hand, I pull him toward the front door, sensing his hesitation and not wanting to give him any reason to back out of taking me to this party.
Once we’re outside, I make a move to drop his hand, but Grayson tightens his grip. I glance up at him in question.
“If she’s anything like my mother, she’s watching us leave.”
