Page 85 of Fluke
“Aw. That’s sweet.”
I grin.It is.
I’m surprised he let me talk him into a delayed departure. I’m even more surprised that I talked him into one. While I did have a lot of things to do before we leave, the hedonist in me threatened to sayscrew itand stay with him last night … andscrew him.
Knowing he’s alone and wanting to be with me is a hard thing to fight against.
But I busied myself with tasks instead—paying a few bills, sending emails to keep the ball rolling at work while I’m away, and using up the rest of the fresh food in my kitchen that will go bad by the time I get home. I kept reminding myself that I’m happy to play along with hisreal chance at making me fall for him, but I have to keep my head on straight. Enjoy the attention, sure. But I must remember that this is a ticket to paradise with an expiration date.
I can’t go all in.
Even though, in a perfect world, I’d dive in headfirst.
“When do you start at the Tourism Board?” I ask.
“Monday. I have today off—well, kind of off. I met Jovie for breakfast to go over a few things for my new position. We were supposed to have a meeting with Halcyon this afternoon, but they canceled. I don’t know if I was supposed to go back to work or not, but no one is expecting me there so I’m not going.”
“Fair.” I glance down at the screen. “Hey, I need to call you later. There’s a number calling that I don’t recognize, and it could be about work.”
“Don’t worry about it. Go take care of your stuff. Call me as soon as you get back from your trip with all the sordid details.”
I laugh. “I will. Bye.”
“Goodbye.”
I grab the phone, taking it off the speaker, and say hello.
“Hello, Philippa.”
My stomach churns.Seriously, Universe?
I spot the string of my bikini under a tote bag—why the heck is it there?—and pull it out.
“Hi, Mother,” I say with as much sweetness as I can inject without puking. “Two calls in one week? To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I thought our conversation last week constituted a follow-up.”
I toss the swimsuit in my suitcase and sigh. “Did you?”
“Philippa …” She sighs right back at me. “I will never understand why you refuse to allow your father and me to help you in life.”
“Excuse me? What are you talking about?”
My blood pressure soars because I know where this is going.
I rub my forehead, wishing I hadn’t picked up. But the irony of her calling on the one day in years that I’ve woken up with analmost joyisn’t lost on me.
And I hate that—for me … and for her.
“You know what I’m talking about,” she says, the words snappy. “I haven’t interfered in your life in ages, and I’d hoped that maybe you’d grown up. Maybe you had run the defiance that’s nearly ruined your life out of your system.”
My mouth gapes.
“Can you imagine how it feels to have the head of one of the largest nonprofits in the country ask you about your children? And you have to tell them that, yes, you have a daughter and, yes, she chooses to waste the tools we equipped her with to play matchmaker?”
I stare into the mirror, not sure where to even start.
“Don’t worry,” she snarks. “I didn’t put it to her like that. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”
