Page 82 of I Choose You
“He’s not a boy, Mother.” My tone was harsher than I intended, and I had to close my eyes and take a deep, centering breath before continuing. My mother’s eyes were on me whenI looked up. Her lips pulled into a small smirk as she raised her brow at me.
“I apologize. You and the young man are an item, then.”
“It’s complicated,” I responded lamely. “My contract with the Delano Library is coming to an end. Andrew’s already talking about my next on-site placement, as long as he’s satisfied with how the library turns out. I can’t imagine him being anything less than stunned by what we’ve accomplished. All that to say, Reid and I are just temporary.” I shrugged and tried to mask the melancholy I felt at that thought.
I caught a look passing across her face, but it disappeared just as fast. Saving me from any further interrogation, my father walked into the room.
“Thomas, is the Drumhellers’ son still in town?” The Drumhellers’ son was thirty-five years old and divorced—meaning single. “Should we expect him at the dinner tomorrow night?”
I had to fight to keep my eyes from rolling at her obvious interference.
“I wouldn’t have a clue. I don’t keep track of other people’s children, Melanie.”
Considering he had yet to acknowledge me being in the room, his own daughter, it wasn’t a stretch to believe that he paid no mind to other people’s children.
“Hey, Dad,” I said brightly.
“Claire,” he responded, completely devoid of emotion.
I kept my smile on my face, but I didn’t miss the expression that passed over my mother’s face again. I would hesitate to call it wistful, although that was how it appeared. I had to wonder if this life, the one that she wanted for me so desperately, had turned out the way she had hoped.
Iwent back to the room to work on my research until it was time to go. My phone buzzed on the bed next to me. A text from Reid had come through, with a second one following right behind.
Reid: Hope you’re having a good weekend.
Reid: I miss you.
A wide grin split my face. Just seeing his name made my insides feel gooey and warm.
Me: I miss you, too. My mom’s roped me into some event planning and a dinner engagement, so my weekend is turning out to be the opposite of fun. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.
Reid and I had been spending every waking—and sleeping—minute together for weeks. I thought that being away from him this weekend would be good for us, but it just made me realize how much I missed him. How much I was going to miss him when our work at the library was finished.
I cleared my head and finished what I was working on, sending the notes off to Andrew and Gina before heading into the den to meet my mother.
“We need to get over to the venue to oversee the setup. If I don’t have ivory-colored chair covers…” She trailed off.
I followed her out to the car that Leon had pulled up to the front of the house. The gray skies had officially switched over to a light rain. I pulled my trench coat around myself, protecting my shirt from getting wet.
The hall was a hive of activity from the moment we arrived. Floors were being swept, tables were being repositioned into a different arrangement, and decorations and signage were being put into place.
My mother went in search of her actual event coordinatorassistant, so I tried to see what was still needing to get done.
“Do you know where the tablecloths are?” I asked one of the helpers. She was wearing a pair of pink corduroy overalls and a long-sleeved crop top, her hair pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head. And she looked at me like I had lost my mind.
“Oh, uh… I’ll get right on them.” She looked back and forth between me and the floral arrangement she was working on that would flank the doors as guests arrived.
“I didn’t mean for you to stop what you’re doing. If you could just point me in the right direction, I’ll get started on them.”
She was clearly uncomfortable with me helping, but what else was I here for if not to help get everything set up. After I told her for the third time that really, I didn’t mind at all, she finally caved.
“Follow me. I’ll show you where everything is.” Her tentative smile indicated that she was still unsure about my involvement.
In the back room, boxes and boxes of supplies cluttered the floor. Besides the tablecloths, a host of centerpieces, napkins, dinner plates, glasses, and additional table decorations were packed away, waiting to be utilized.
“Oh, wow,” I said, trying to tamp down my surprise at how much work still needed to be done.
“I guess there was a misunderstanding about what the hotel’s event coordinator was responsible for and what was the host’s event planner’s responsibility,” she said, her shoulder rising in a small shrug.
