But just as I opened my mouth, my mom turned and called out with a laugh, "You're late."
Shit.If I were twelve, I might have rolled my eyes. "No,you'reearly."
"Oh, please. I got here right at three." She fluttered her hands. "Okay, so it was ten after, but I was still earlier thanyou." But then she paused and cocked her head to the side. "Wait…youdidtell me three o'clock, right?"
Chicago and Mackinac Island were in two different time zones, but I'd spelled things out perfectly clear. "Right. But threeCentral. Chicago time. Remember?"
This made her laugh. "Yeah, but I'm notinChicago, smart-ass. I'mhere." She reached into her purse and pulled out her cellphone. She glanced at the screen and turned it in my direction even though we were still several paces away. "See? Three-sixteen." She brightened. "I even adjusted my watch."
This kind of thing?It was classic Mom. We'd had similar mix-ups in the past, which was why I'd used Chicago time when setting this up. It was the time zone where she lived – and where her favorite watch was set no matter what.
Until, apparently today.
I'd planned to arrive alone, sweep Maisie off her feet, and seal the deal with a surprise – something that showed Maisie I wasn't messing around.
Yeah, the surprise was Mom.
Instead,Iwas the one surprised, and Maisie was left waiting. I gave Mom a pleading look. "Can we debate this later?"
Her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh, my God," she laughed. "I'msosorry. I mean… you didn't bring those flowers for me, did you?" But then she dropped her hands and turned to Maisie with a wink. "But just so you know, he always does."
Maisie's mouth opened, then closed. And then she blinked. "Sorry…what?"
"Flowers," my mom said. "The kid never forgets. Mother's Day, St. Paddy's Day, you name it. And he'sreallytidy, too."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Mom!"
She turned back to me. "What?"
"Do you think thatmaybeI could talk to Maisie for a bit?"
"Oh. Yeah. Definitely." She looked around. "You know what? I think I need fudge." She looked back to Maisie and asked, "You want anything?"
When Maisie hesitated, my mom said with a flutter of her hands, "Never mind. I'll bring back a surprise." She lowered her voice. "Wait…you don't have any nut allergies, do you?"
I made a sound of frustration. "Mom!"
"Alright! I'm leaving, I'm leaving." With a quick wave at Maisie, she turned and hustled in my direction, stopping only to take a quick sniff of the flowers before rushing out with the jingle of the door.
When I looked back to Maisie, my heart caught in my throat. There she was – the only girl I'd ever loved, and there was no way I'd be screwing it up.
Not this time.
80
Slow-Motion Swagger
Maisie
I hadn't moved. I couldn't.
My fingers were still gripping the edge of the counter like I might fall over if I let go. My heart was pounding, my brain was short-circuiting, and my lungs had decided to take a break.
Here he was.
Griff.
With flowers.