“Have you been drinking, Mom?”
“Just a little on the plane to take the edge off. Well, that and maybe a little more to help me sleep off the jet lag.”
Anthony’s headlights shine through the front windows, and she strains her neck to try to see what he’s driving.
“Have him come inside. I want to see the lucky boy who caught your attention.”
“No, not tonight. Maybe next time,” I place my hand on the doorknob.
“Excuse me, I’m still your mother. If I want to meet this boy, you need to invite him in.”
I take a deep breath and turn to face her, “My mother? I haven’t seen you in almost two months. I could be having cocaine-fueled sex parties out by the pool every night for months and you would have a clue. You wouldn’t care, either, so please don’t act as if you want any control over my life. It’s just too ridiculous to even consider. Now, I’m leaving. You’ll probably be asleep when I get back so welcome home and sleep well, Mother.”
“You’re pissed at me for treating you like an adult?” she scoffs.
“No, I’m pissed at you for suddenly thinking that you have the right to go back on that. I have to go. He’s waiting.” I open the door and quickly pull it closed behind me.
Anthony opens his door and I rush to the car. He’s a gentleman and wants to open my door for me, but I don’t want my mother to see him through the window. I hop in the car before he has a chance to get out.
“I was going to open your door for you,” he looks stunned by my erratic behavior.
“Oh, sorry. We don’t really do that in America,” I gulp. “Are you ready to go?”
“Sure, but, are you okay?” he asks me. “You’re wound up pretty tight.”
Shit, I didn’t know it was that obvious. “My mother made a surprise appearance tonight. I guess she’s home from attending fashion shows left and right.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” he reaches over and takes my hand.
“No, it isn’t bad. Well, not really. It’s just complicated and I wasn’t prepared.”
“Okay, then. We won’t talk about it. I promise I’ll make you forget all about her for a while.”
“That won’t be easy,” I sigh.
He squeezes my hand and says, “Yes, it will.”
I believe him but there’s still one major problem plaguing my mind. If this thing turns into something more like I want it to, how will I ever explain it to my mother? I mean, I got away with kicking my feet and telling her no tonight, but I know my mother. She’ll win. She always does.
7
FIRST DATE
ANTHONY
After a great deal of contemplation, I decided where to take Aria for our first night out together. I didn’t want to take her to a place where someone from the school might see us, but I didn’t want her to feel like my dirty little secret either, so I compromised. I picked a local place that’s too pricey for the academy staff and students. I may be late paying my mortgage after this, but she’s worth every penny. Anything for this little girl.
The Baretto al Baglioni ristorante is the in-place for jet setters from both Italy and abroad due to its location inside the Carlton Hotel Baglioni. Stepping inside is like stepping back in time to a twentieth-century English clubhouse with wood and dark papered walls, painted hunting scenes, and Scottish carpets. Everything from the leather-bound chairs to the decorated tray ceilings screams aristocracy. If I hadn’t played rugby with the General Manager in college, I would have had to wait a month just to get a table.
We arrive and I hand the valet my keys before meeting Aria on the sidewalk and taking her by the arm.
“Baretto al Baglioni,” she breathes. I don’t know if she’s just reading the signage or if she’s been here before.
“You know this place?” I ask as the doorman opens the door for us.
“Only because my mother comes here. She comes here a lot.”
“And she’s never taken you?”
