Page 23 of The Vacation Mix-Up
Hugo covers his mouth with his hand and dips his head, his eyes bouncing in their sockets.
Unable to bite my tongue, I hiss, “Ben!”
“Yes, love?”
I tilt my head toward the kids, and mouth, “Language.”
His brow pinches before he realizes what he said. “Oops. Sorry, squirts.”
Zach doesn’t bat an eyelid, and neither does Avery. In fact, Kathy and Oscar don’t either, both of them intently studying their menus.
Okaaay, then.
“And how about you two?” Hugo asks Riley and me. “Where are you from?”
We both go to speak at the same time, so I close my mouth and offer my hand for Riley to answer first. “You go.”
“No, ladies before gentlemen.”
Huh. Perhaps he does have manners.
Smiling appreciatively, I place the menu down and lay my napkin across my lap. “I’m from Manhattan.”
“And I’m from Philly,” Riley offers.
Ben scrunches his face. “Long way to go for hook-ups.”
“Oh, we’re not together,” I explain. “We just met. Actually, it’s a funny story.”
Riley scoffs. “I wouldn’t exactly call it funny.”
I let out a mild laugh. “I suppose not.”
“Mom, I’m hungry,” Avery whines.
“Okay, sweetie.” Kathy tuts and waves a waiter down, almost grabbing his shirt as he hurries by. “Can we order? My children are hungry.”
“Uh, yes, ma’am. I’ll be right with you,” he says, graciously flustered.
I offer the waiter my thanks, something Kathy failed to do, before he hurries off again. The service staff buzzing about remind me of bees, each table a flower they must visit, theirduty essential for the enjoyment of others. I’ve always been fond of bees: such harmonious, unappreciated, hard workers.
“What are you going to have, dear?” Kathy asks her daughter.
“Pizza.”
“Why don’t you try something else?”
“I don’t want anything else. I want pizza.”
“Of course.” She winks. “You can have what you want.”
The waiter hastily returns, apologizes, takes our orders, and buzzes off again.
“So, what’s the not-so-funny story?” Hugo asks me.
“About how Riley and I met?”
“Yes. Do tell.” He snuggles into his husband’s side and lifts a glass of red to his lips, which is when I notice a Cosmopolitan in front of me.
