Love Out of Order (Indigo Love Spectrum) Page 10

  I winced inside, but I just nodded, glad John was beside me so I wouldn’t have to chance looking at him as my eyes swept across the table.

  “So, what do they do there?”

  “They work on Wall Street. They’re lawyers,” he said.

  Please don’t make him say his dad owns the majority stake in the firm. Please don’t make him say his parents went to, and met at, Harvard Law. Please don’t make him say anything else about them. I tried to will my mom not to push him for more information.

  Luckily, John changed the subject. “What do you two do?”

  “Oh, certainly nothing that impressive. Denise will be the first lawyer in the family. She was the first to go to college. Lots of firsts in our girl Denise,” my mother said, stabbing her plate with her fork. She was working hard to make things uncomfortable.

  “I’m a custodian for the elementary school and Lisa’s a supervisor at a factory in town,” my dad said, his nostrils flaring a little.

  John nodded. “That’s great.”

  “Oh, I don’t know what’s so great about it,” my mom said with an airy laugh; that laugh was deceptively dangerous. I knew it well.

  “That’s enough,” my dad said. He obviously knew it well also.

  “Just trying to make conversation,” my mom said with a shrug, shooting me a pointed glance as she took a sip of water. Everyone stared down at their plates or off into space. Conversation had definitely been killed. I was so furious, I could barely keep the tears prickling my eyes from spilling over.

  I shoved baked chicken around on my plate. Hadn’t she already told me off? That wasn’t enough? I glowered at my fork. John was so tense next to me, I imagined all the muscles in his body coiled into one central knot. He wasn’t the only one.

  “Well, John, it’s really nice to have you over for dinner. And for the weekend. Denise hardly ever brings friends home,” my dad said.

  “Thanks, Mr. Rich,” John said. I could hear the grin in his voice.

  “Barry. Please. I already told you about that, John.”

  “Okay, Barry, thanks. And thank you guys both for having me. You have a really wonderful home,” John said.

  “Thanks. Lisa’s always bringing home some new gadget or decoration of some kind,” my dad said. Mom finally looked up with a tense smile.

  “Yeah, I really love this uh—centerpiece thing. It looks like something from one of those home-decorating shows my mom watches,” John said, quickly picking up on my dad’s words. He was rambling a little, but my mom ate it up, which made me very happy.

  “Thank you. I put it together last week.” Mom’s tone still had a little edge to it, but it was definitely much more relaxed. I heard relief in John’s voice as he asked her more about her centerpiece. I was glad his charm worked on parents, too.

  That night, as I was getting ready to go to my room, John grabbed me by the elbow, stopping me. I turned to him, surprised. He was already set up for the night. My mom had given him way too many blankets and pillows. I didn’t really want to talk to him. My parents had already given me enough crap that night, most of it without saying a word to me. And the looks they’d exchanged all night. I knew they had started tearing me apart as soon as they went into their room for the night. And if they came out and found me still in the living room with John, it wouldn’t make them happy.

  “What?” I asked, looking at his navy blue T-shirt and thinking about the very nice chest that had to be under it. I didn’t want to look at his face.

  “Denise, I hope I didn’t get you into trouble by coming here,” he said.

  I looked up at his face and smiled. “It’s okay. I’d much rather you be here and me have to take a little heat from them than you be in Boston or at your parents’ with Sasha,” I said, sinking into the couch with relief. He smiled. He had me transfixed every time he looked at me.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t think they would. I think they pretty much hate me. I made a horrible first impression, huh?” John pulled one of the pillows into his lap.

  I grinned, hugging him. “No. I think they’re pretty pissed at me, but it’s whatever. They’ll get over it. I think it’s just really a shock to them. I’ve only brought one other guy home, and he never even spent the night.”

  “Really? I’ve had plenty of girls stay at our house. I mean, my parents think we sleep in separate rooms, but—”

  “Okay, okay, that’s about all I want to hear about your sexcapades. I’m sure you have way more than I can handle hearing about,” I said, laughing and pulling back from the hug. But I wasn’t laughing on the inside. The last thing I needed was visuals.

  “All right. I’m just a little shocked by that. One guy? Really?”

  I had to change the subject. We were too close to talking about Joe. “You really want to be with me, huh?”

  “Yes.” John put his finger under my chin and tipped my face up toward his. “Do you know how beautiful you are, Denise? And the most important thing is that it’s inside and out. Wait. Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I’m sorry. But a deep frat boy? I can’t believe there’s such a thing.”

  “Yeah. Okay, Denise,” he said, rolling his eyes. “That’s enough of your lame frat boy insults. I might start taking you seriously one day.”

  “Hm,” I said, staring at him.

  “What?”

  “I’m just glad you’re here.”

  “Me, too,” he said, moving closer to me. I put my head on his shoulder and he put his arm around my waist.

  “So have you talked to your parents since you’ve been here?” I asked. He tensed under me.

  “No. I called ’em Monday to tell ’em I wasn’t coming home for Thanksgiving. I haven’t talked to them since.” Something had changed in his tone. The change was almost imperceptible, but I thought his voice might have become a little icy around the edges.

  “Were they upset about you not coming home?”

  “I think they were more upset that I broke up with Sasha.”

  “Did you tell them about us?”

  “Not yet,” John said. His answers were getting smaller and smaller. He didn’t talk about his parents much. I began to wonder what the story was there. I looked up at him, my head still on his chest. He looked down at me with those emerald eyes. How I loved those eyes . . .

  “You plan on telling them any time soon?” I asked, trying to make my tone come off light and teasing.

  “Yeah. When I call them tomorrow for Thanksgiving, I’ll tell them,” he said. He lowered his head and kissed my nose. “Don’t worry. I can’t wait to tell them about you.”

  “Okay. But why don’t you talk more about them? I just realized that I really don’t know much more about them other than they’re lawyers who live in Connecticut.”

  “There’s really not much more to know,” John said.

  I had the feeling his smile was forced. But I didn’t get the opportunity to press him further at that moment.

  We looked up as my parents’ bedroom door opened.

  “Denise, I think it’s time you went to bed and let John do the same,” Mom said, her patient, polite smile worn the thinnest I’d seen it all evening.

  “Yeah, Mom, I was just going,” I said, jumping up and heading to my room without looking back at John. And I didn’t dare look at my mother.

  Thanksgiving Day was interesting, to say the least. Things were tense, but better than at dinner the day before. My dad, uncle and John watched football all day. My uncle was cool with John. He had started laughing and joking with John as soon as they’d awakened that morning. I was glad at least one person didn’t make me or John feel like criminals.

  I spent most of the day in the kitchen with my mother. She wasn’t mean and insulting anymore. She was really quiet and polite, which was even worse. That was the way she treated people she didn’t like very much. And she had never acted like that with me before. She was only talking to me to ask me to pass her ingredients, check things in the oven, o
r stir something more briskly.

  “Mom, what is the deal?” I finally asked, throwing down the oven mitts and putting my hands on my hips. I had just told her the turkey was on fire and she had replied, “That’s fine. Thanks, dear. ”

  For a minute, she just stared at me. Then she sat down at the kitchen table. “Denise, it’s never been like this between us,” she said, placing an elbow on the table and holding her forehead in her hand.

  “Got that right,” I muttered, leaning against the kitchen counter and looking down at her, feeling as tired and confused as she seemed to.

  “Denise, this isn’t you. I feel like I don’t know my own baby. You’re bringing home strange men. You hardly call home anymore. You’re distant when you do.” She still had her head in her hand. Her voice sounded strained, but I couldn’t tell if she was crying or not.

  I pushed a breath through my closed lips. “So, it’s not just John that bothers you.”

  “Well, most of it—a large part of it—some of it; I don’t know. I just want my Denise back.”

  I went over to the table and sat in the chair next to her. I put my hand on her back. “Mom, this year’s just been difficult. I mean, the second year of law school is insanity. And I’ve been going through some things with Astoria and Suse. I know I could do better. And I will. But you need to tell me these things are bothering you.”

  “I know, Denise, I know. I just don’t want to bother you. But I miss you so much. And it’s just—I’ve never had to before. I don’t like how our relationship’s changing. And I especially feel left out of your life when you bring some man home,” she said. I handed her a napkin. No tissues were handy. She took it and thanked me.

  “I’m always going to be the same crazy, corny Denise. I’m always going to be my mother’s daughter,” I said with a grin, patting her back. “I know you didn’t expect this John thing. To tell you the truth, neither did I. But he’s amazing. I adore him. I’m sure you will, too. Once you get to know him.”

  “He does seem nice,” Mom said somewhat grudgingly.

  “He is, Mom. And I promise. We’ll catch up on all the mundane things in my life that you probably tune out on when I tell you about anyway. And our relationship’s not really changing. Whatever little change there may be is for the better. You’ll see.”

  “Oh, Denise. I don’t mean it that way—I don’t know what I mean. I just miss you is all. You’re my only baby. You’re my baby girl, Denise.”

  “Well, you can’t miss me right now. I’m all yours until Sunday.”

  “Sure.” She rolled her eyes.

  “I mean it. You know I don’t really talk to any of the friends I had around here anymore. And John will probably be in there watching whatever game with dad and Uncle Jay most of the time.”

  “And we’re still going shopping tomorrow?”

  “Of course.”

  “You should bring John.”

  “I will,” I said with a smile.

  Thanksgiving dinner was nice. I was pleasantly surprised to see John treated like a member of the family. So was John. By dessert, the conversation had turned to embarrassing Denise-as-a-little-kid stories. John was in. Though I grimaced a little at the tales, I was able to relax for the first time since I had walked through the front door with John.

  John and I went to see a movie Friday night after an exhausting day of Black Friday shopping with my mom. My dad and uncle and stayed home, but I dragged John along. I hadn’t been about to suffer alone. Plus, I was excited that Mom had asked me to bring him. Mom made us get up at four that morning. So even though it was early in the evening, we were about to head home and to bed.

  The movie had not been nearly as good as the previews had hyped it up to be. But somehow we’d managed to stay entertained throughout. I was enjoying finally having him to myself.

  As we came out of the theater, I was laughing over some of his ridiculous spring break stories.

  John took his vibrating BlackBerry out of his coat pocket.

  “Who is it?” I asked, putting my arm around his waist.

  “Sasha,” he said with a little frown. “She’s called like a million times since I’ve been here. I’m gonna answer it because if I don’t, she’ll just keep calling.”

  “Okay,” I said, a little wary, but feeling reassured in that if he were being shady, he wouldn’t have answered the phone right in front of me.

  “Hello,” he said in a cold, blank tone. I shuddered. John pulled me closer, probably thinking I was shuddering from the cold. I smiled. That was better.

  “. . . .o. I haven’t been answering the phone because I don’t want to talk to you . . . we broke up . . . yeah, so why would I call to wish you a happy Thanksgiving? . . . No, I don’t want to talk to Cindy. You put her on the phone and I’ll hang up. I promise you . . . that has nothing to do with us . . . hey, you leave her out of it . . . It’s no one’s fault, Sasha. There’s no controlling these things . . . I’m serious . . . you say—would you listen? You say her name one more time, and I’ll hang up . . . because I don’t want to be with you anymore . . . I’m sorry, but that’s the way I feel . . . we’ve already talked about this. A lot . . . yes, I am . . . Okay. That’s it. I warned you. I’m going now. If you call back one more time tonight, I’m cutting off my phone.”

  John put his phone back into his pocket and turned to me with a smile. He gave me a quick kiss.

  “I’m sure she had only good things to say about me,” I said.

  He laughed, squeezing my shoulders. “Of course.”

  I stopped at the car and pulled him close to me, burying my face in the front of his jacket. He lifted my head by my chin, and lowered his face to mine.

  “You okay?” he murmured before kissing my cheek.

  “Yeah,” I lied. Out of all the voices that could have crept into my head at that moment, Astoria’s had to be the one that did.

  “You know, I’ve really had a good time meeting your family. No, really I have. You and these looks you give me. I like them all—especially your uncle. Anyway, I hope you’ll want to come meet mine over winter break,” John said. He kissed my lower lip.

  My mouth dropped open. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I was thinking after Christmas, you could come up to Connecticut and stay through New Year’s. And we could come back to Virginia afterward together,” John said.

  Wow. And there I was thinking I was going to be some big secret kept from the family.

  “I mean, we have this boring New Year’s thing we always go to, but I think it’d be much less boring to have you there for it.”

  “I’d love to.” I had never met a boyfriend’s parents before. Big step. And not just any parents. Super rich Wall Street lawyer parents. How did I feel about that? At that moment, it didn’t matter. All I knew was that John wanted to take me home to meet his family.

  I hugged John close and he kissed me. I couldn’t imagine myself ever getting tired of John’s kisses. There was always a measure of excitement in the fact that he wanted to kiss me. He wanted to be with me.

  Chapter 13

  ACROSS THE LINES

  John and I got back to my place early Sunday afternoon. I was going to take him home that evening, but he’d wanted to come over for a while since we hadn’t had much time completely alone over Thanksgiving break. And of course I didn’t mind.

  I groaned as soon as I saw Astoria’s car parked in a visitor’s spot as I pulled into my own spot.

  “What is it?” John asked.

  “That’s Astoria’s car back there,” I said.

  “Why do you sound so upset? I haven’t really met any of your friends yet. This is good.”

  “Yeah. You won’t be saying that once you meet her,” I said.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Oh, she hates you and she hasn’t even met you. Still excited to meet her?”

  “Why does she hate me?”

  “Because you’re white.”

  “You’re joking, right
?”

  “Kind of,” I said with a half smile.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “C’mon. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to scare you. I’m just not happy to see her here. She’s been getting on my nerves a lot lately.”

  “You can take me home first if you want some time alone to talk with her.”

  “No. The only person I want time alone with is you,” I said, leaning over to kiss him.

  “Good.”

  “And if she wants to be difficult, she can be the one to go home.”

  “All right. Let’s go. I’ll get your bags.”

  I kissed him again. He hugged me long and hard. He then pulled back and opened his door. Sighing longingly, I opened my own door and climbed out of the car. John got my bags and we headed to the front door. I opened the door and we were greeted by Astoria’s sour smirk. She sat on the sofa, across from the front door.

  “Hi, Astoria. Good to see you. How was your break?” I said.

  She shrugged.

  “This is John. John—”

  “I know who he is,” Astoria snapped.

  So much for trying to be nice.

  “I’m just gonna take these to your room. I’ll be back,” John said quietly, kissing my cheek.

  I nodded, watching him go. I had just spent a crazy Thanksgiving getting John acclimated to my family. I wasn’t about to go through any nonsense with Astoria. “Stori, look. I’m not going to do this. If you’re not here to talk sense, I don’t think we have anything to say to each other right now.” I stood in the middle of the living room. The only seats in the room not cluttered with Tia’s mess were on the sofa, and I had no desire to sit next to Astoria.

  “Don’t you call me that. My friends call me that. And you’re not being much of a friend right now.”

  I snorted and crossed my arms over my chest. “I haven’t done anything to you, Astoria. You’re always going off on me. And for what? Because I won’t let you run my life?”

  “I’m not the one actin’ a fool.”

  “Yes, you are. Look at how you just treated John. We haven’t even gotten through the door good yet, and here you are. Rollin’ your eyes and stampin’ your feet.”