“Hi, Mom,” he says as he slides his aviators to the top of his head and settles into his seat. A few moments pass and then, “I’m in Arizona until Monday.”
I unilaterally decide it’s time for another round of margaritas.
As covertly as I can manage, I collect my cover-up from my chair, successfully dodging the camera’s lens.
In one fell swoop, Connor blindsides me, tilting the camera my direction as he says, “It’s a long story, but I’m here with Gretchen.”
I drape the material over my shoulders and give Connor’s mom a quick wave. Before I can turn toward the bar to give them their privacy, Andrea Vining squeals in delight. “Ahhhhh, is that little Gretchen Fisher?”
Now that I’ve been spotted, I take a seat. “Hi, Mama V.”
“Connor, honey, move the phone closer so I can see her.”
He rolls his eyes as he lugs my chair flush to his. “There, Mom, you see her.”
“Oh Gretchen, sweetheart,” she coos, “I haven’t seen you since you were a little girl. How’s your brother doing? What about your parents?”
“Drew’s good. Mom and Dad are good, too. They’re actually touring Italy right now.”
“Patrick, did you hear that?” she hollers off camera. “Gretchen says Paul and Kelly are in Italy.”
“Gretchen?” The camera jostles and then Connor’s dad squeezes himself into the frame.
“Well, I’ll be damned. That can’t be Gretchen Fisher I see.” They’re as charming and adorable as I remember.
Connor runs a palm down his face. “You guys are unbelievable.”
Patrick adjusts the glasses on his nose. “Where are you guys at?” He squints, trying to parse out the unfamiliar backdrop behind us.
“He said they’re in Arizona,” Andrea answers.
“Arizona! What the hell are they doing there?”
I look at Connor, whose expression has gone utterly lifeless. My shoulders bounce with quiet laughter.
“Clearly I’m not needed for this conversation so are we done here?” Connor interjects dryly.
“Connor Vining, you stop that,” his mom chides. The man next to me charms her with a boyish smile that could send every woman in its vicinity into ovulation.
I set my sunglasses on my head. “How’s the beach life treating you guys?”
“Can’t complain. We’re headed to Carova next week with some friends,” Patrick says as an incredulous grin takes over his face. “I can’t believe that’s you, Gretch. You’re all grown up.”
I only knew Patrick and Andrea Vining for those few years Connor and Drew played football together in high school, but week after week of sitting in the stands together brings a sense of familiarity that’s easy to settle back in to.
I rest my chin on my hands in a dainty pose. “It’s me.”
Connor catches my gaze off camera. He winks and a wave of butterflies soars through my stomach.
“What are you doing now, sweetheart?” Andrea asks and I fix my attention back on the screen. Connor throws his head back in exasperation. I reach for his phone, more than happy to give the Vinings my entire life story, but he pulls away.
“Nope,” he says. “I’m not letting them trap you.”
My head cocks and I lunge for the phone again, successful this time. “Why don’tyoumake yourself useful, old man, and go get me a margarita while I talk to your parents.”
His dad explodes with laughter. “You heard the woman, son. Skedaddle yourself on over to that bar and get the lady a drink. Leave us to it.”
I lean back in my seat, phone in hand. Connor sighs as he gets to his feet. On his way to the bar, he throws a towel over my face which I swiftly peel off and hurl at his back as he walks away.
