Page 18 of When the Time Is Right
I gave him a curt nod. “I would expect nothing less, Dr. Targaryen.”
With that, he was gone, and I spent the next hour going back and forth with Lex over a damn cat condo.
Shit…did that make me Laverne or Shirley?It was that time again. Sunday lunch with my mom and dad. Only, this week, I was solo. No Cal and Vanessa because they’d just returned from their honeymoon on the Island of Misfit Toys. Not even their wedding plans were left to dominate the conversation. Hudson hadn’t been able to make it because of work, so I couldn’t even fall back on them fawning over Jack.
In a nutshell, I was preparing to get railroaded by both of them and considered giving my worrywart parents a rain check. The problem with that was they’d still ask questions. They’d still worry. They’d still meddle. They’d still be Judy and David Lawson—just over the phone.
Make no mistake. My parents were basically the best. They’d loved us. Provided for us. Given us a dreamlike childhood. Practically cheered all of us through high school and college. And they were an excellent example of what a marriage could—and should—be.
As I drove down their boulevard, I wondered if I’d already missed my shot at even a fraction of what they’d built together. But before I got all up in my own head—Lord knew my parents would do it for me—I distracted myself with thoughts of the flirtatious FedEx guy.
By the time I pulled into their drive, I was fantasizing about two or thirty-six naughty things I’d like to do to him and at least ninety lewd things I’d let him do to me. I stepped out of my Kelly Blue Book Top-Safety-Rated Thank You Very Much GMC Acadia to find my favorite seven-year-old ambling down the driveway next door. With a game in his hands, he didn’t even notice when he’d passed the back door to his mom’s car, but he paused when he hit the trunk and looked up.
“Hey, Jack, you pay attention about as well as you do your debts,” I called over to him from about ten feet away, and then I made a smoochie face to remind him of the penalty for nonpayment.
He squinted at me, the same as his dad did when I was being a shit, and asked, “What?”
Oh, he was going to play dumb, but I was boss at dumb and not letting him off that easily.
Lauren was now at her door, and we exchanged smiles. She put a hand on the roof of her luxury sedan and glanced at her son to watch our exchange play out.
“You owe me money, man. Where’s my twenty bucks?”
“Um…” He grinned, but he had adorable guilt written all over his face. “Mom?”
Lauren had known me all my life, and although we were polar opposites, we’d always gotten along—especially when it came to our guys, including Jack. I mean, we weren’t calling each other up to gossip about celebrities, who we’d hooked up with, or to share smoothie recipes, but we were cool. She was good people, just not my crowd. Except for the handful of random times she’d shown up at Huey’s for darts and beer when Hudson had forced her to leave the house when Jack was younger and a few other novel occasions when we were all together. Other than that, we were friendly acquaintances these days.
“Do you owe Alexis money?” she pointedly teased her son.
Swinging from side to side and perching his game on top of his head, he explained, “Kinda. I lost a bet.”
In his defense, most people who made bets with me lost. He just hadn’t learned that yet.
These were the kinds of life lessons I had to offer, and I proudly took the responsibility of making this dude someone no one would be able to fool in the future. It first began with teaching him how to ask for cash when someone asked what he wanted for Christmas, although that was mostly due to my brother’s shitty gift-giving issues. Then my wisdom manifested in bedtime negotiations when I’d babysat him. Can you believe the kid just went to bed when I’d asked him to? I had to let him in on how powerful bedtime was and how he could occasionally get something out of his no-nonsense compliance. And now we were onto the petty gambling and hustling portion of my contribution to this young man’s education.
“What was the bet?” Lauren asked, tightening her nearly perfect strawberry-blond ponytail.
“Dad was supposed to catch Vanessa’s leg scrunchy thing. Uncle Cal shot it right at him.”
Lauren’s face lit up, knowing what I did. Sure, Hudson would look the part and diligently fill all his roles as best man, but there wasn’t an ice cube’s chance in Hell that he’d ever catch the garter.
