The squeal of pipes tells me Simon’s done with his shower and also that I really should call a plumber.
“Lainie? You ready?” Simon’s call from upstairs interrupts my thoughts.
“Yep. All ready to go. Gifts are in the car.”
“Damn. Don’t we have, like, half an hour?” He stands at the top of my stairs, hair still damp and a towel slung loosely around his waist, his idea for ways to spend the next half hour or so clearly on display.
I’m tempted, no doubt, but it’s nearly three, and we still need to swing by Trick’s. “Sadly, no. If we don’t head out soon, we’ll be late.”
“Fine,” he pouts. “But we might need to leave early.”
“Deal. And feel free to go shirtless. It’s not that cold out today,” I tease.
He ducks into my room and comes back out, zipping up his cords, a shirt slung over his shoulder. He descends the stairs two at a time, then slips on his shoes and stops to kiss me on the lips. “No way. If you’re forcing me to be on-time, I fully intend to torture you for the entirety of the party.” He smiles and pulls on his shirt, a tee with Chewbacca on the front, directly under the words “Party Animal.” But that’s not the part that catches my attention. Nope. My eyes go directly to the sleeves—the short sleeves that reveal arms I’ll never get enough of.
Now it’s my turn to pout. “You are cruel.”
“And you are gorgeous. Let’s hit the road, pretty girl.” He grabs my coat and then his.
As we pull out of my driveway, I shove all thoughts of babies and wedded bliss out of my mind. Yes, I adore Simon, and it’s all too easy to picture curly-haired children in our future, but I need to remember that he’s nearly a decade younger than I am and surely not looking for happily ever after just yet.
As if to punctuate my thoughts, Simon’s fingers scroll through the channels and land on a band I’ve never even heard of. The wordsYoung the Giantflow across the radio screen.
Simon drums on his knee and sings along. “I love this song. Tell me you know these guys?”
“Never heard of them,” I shrug.
“They’re really good. Nick and I saw them in concert last summer. I’m not a superfan like he is, but they put on a solid show. They’re slated to come back to Meridian next summer. You’re going to love them.”
Before I can decipher that prophetic statement, we pull up to Trick’s, and Simon runs in to grab our order. I scroll mindlessly through social media as he gets back in the car and we head to his parents’ house. All too soon, we park at the curb in a homey, suburban development. It’s not as old as my neighborhood, but the streets are tree-lined and dotted with split levels and fenced-in yards.
“Wow. That car ride didn’t take nearly as long as I thought it might,” I say, my nervousness floating to the surface.
“Yeah, you don’t live far from my folks’ place at all.” Simon unbuckles, seemingly unaware of my anxiety.
“Shouldn’t we have planned this a bit more? Maybe done flashcards? I feel like you might have a thousand sisters, and they’re all going to be here and…”
“Lainie, chill.” The now-familiar mantra does little to soothe my nerves. It doesn’t even loosen the death grip I’ve exacted on my purse handle. A warm hand brushes my frozen ones. “Seriously, they are going to adore you. What’s not to love? And, there aren’t that many of them. Ok, there are a ton of them. But, I know for sure Charlie won’t be here. And my uncle—” He stumbles a bit, and I worry for a moment if I’ll need to keep an eye out for a creepy uncle. “—my uncle, he’s away on business, so he won’t be here. And you’ll love my nan. And look,” he points to a white SUV in the driveway. “Dunc and Bets are here, so you already have a friend. And Nick will surely crash. So will Gavin, if he’s in town. My friends have a sixth sense about free food—especially when my mom’s the cook.” His smile reassures me a bit, as does the fact that I know at least one person here. “So come on. Let’s grab the gifts and head in. After all, the sooner we make an entrance, the sooner we can make an exit.” The tone of his voice and fire in his eyes leave no doubt that he’s not forgotten our earlier pact to head home before the party’s fully over and engage in some quality time together. Shameful though it may be, that’s all the motivation I need to head inside.
Bunches of balloons are tied to the light post and stair railings, and a sign in the window declares, “Happy Birthday, Addison!” I smile. I’ve totally got this. Anyone who’d decorate their driveway for an eleven-year-old’s birthday party must be a good person. And my small talk skills are unparalleled, if I do say so myself. Simon unlocks the door, and we’re met with a cacophony of laughter, good-natured shouting, and the kind of squealing that only tween girls can achieve.
Simon juggles the gifts with one hand and reaches for mine with the other. “Let me intro—”
“Simon! Is that you?” a voice hollers. “Come down to the basement. I need help with the beer.”
He smiles. “That’s my dad. He probably needs to refill the kegerator. Which, at 3:30 in the afternoon, could be an ominous sign. Come on, I’ll introduce you.” He looks for a place to put the gifts, but every available surface is filled with coats or bags or festive fall decor. And I mean really festive... Like giant glittery pumpkins. I take the gifts from his hand, and assure him I’m right behind him. I turn to set the gifts on a mostly occupied side table, but when I turn back around, I’ve lost my boyfriend.
I look around for that head of curls, but it’s nowhere to be found. Well, it’s only been a minute. He can’t have gotten too far.
I don’t make it more than two steps before a petite woman with blonde curls approaches. “Oh, hi! How are you? The girls will be so glad you’re here. And more gifts? Oh, my! Here, I’ll take those and put them...here.” Miraculously, she finds a spot by the sliding glass doors. “I’m Sandy, Katie’s mom. Kendra and Ally are such sweet girls, and we’re so glad they could come. All the kids are out in the yard now, running around, even though it’s far too cold for me!” She smiles, but it falls as she registers my absolute confusion.
“Kendra and Ally?” I’m lost. The oldest sister is Katie. And I know one is Betsy. And Meg? Or Maggie? At any rate, I know there wasn’t a Kendra or an Ally in the bunch. And even so, why wouldn’t they be invited? It’s a family party.
“You’re Kendra and Ally’s mom, right? They said you were coming along, but had errands to run first?” Her voice trails off as she realizes I’m definitely not the person she supposes me to be.
Which begs the question, didn’t Simon tell his mom I’d be here?
And, Sweet Mother of Mercy, the woman before me—whose twenty-five-year-old son I’m currently sleeping with—thinks I’m a soccer mom to eleven-year-old twins.
