Page 167 of Hot Mess
“Hey, Marie,” Danica said, returning the hug. Then she turned to me. “Ashley, this is my mom, Marie.”
Danica’s mom looked exactly like the woman who’d answered the door—except dressed totally differently. Long, loose floral dress and long, loose wavy hair streaked with gray. And her posture was way more relaxed.
“Marie, this is Ashley,” Danica said.
Cute, how she called her mom by her first name. And fussed with her mom’s hair, smoothing it back from her face, instead of the other way around. Even though Marie had to be in her forties or fifties, they seemed more like sisters, vibe-wise.
“Ashley,” Danica’s mom said. “What a lovely name.”
I took the hand she offered, wondering if Danica had told her I was coming. “Really nice to meet you.”
“What a beautiful man,” she said, still staring at me, and Danica elbowed her. “Daniella tells me you’re a musician?”
I glanced sidelong at Danica, but she just shrugged. Why was Daniella telling their mom anything about me?
“I am.”
“That’s just amazing, isn’t it?” Danica’s mom said. “I’m a musician, too—”
“You played flute in high school, mom,” Danica said, with a small eye roll. “That doesn’t count.”
“Of course it counts.”
Before I could respond to that, Danica steered me away to introduce me to more ladies. Good thing, because I had no idea how to make small talk with the mom of a girl I was hot for. Not exactly my strong suit.
I just tried to commit all the names to memory as Danica tossed them at me…
“You remember Madeleine, from the office?” she said, taking me over to the aunt in the little black sundress.
“Of course.”The hot one.
“Nice to see you again,” Madeleine said, shaking my hand and looking me over. “I hear Danica finished your condo. Did she make you happy?”
“Uh, very happy,” I said, and Danica kinda blushed. Then she nudged me along.
“You met Margot at the door,” she said, steering me to the next one. “Margot’s fiancé, Jacob, owns the house.”
Margot offered me her fingertips in a weird, snooty handshake.The uptight one with the rich fiancé.
“Mypleasure,” she said, putting a weird French accent on the word.
“Nice to meet you… ma’am.”Did I just call her ma’am?
Wasn’t sure I’d ever called anyone ma’am in my life.
“And this is Mireille,” Danica said, introducing me to a tall, dark-haired woman who looked just like all the others. Of course, all their names had to start with M.
Nope. Totally not gonna remember all that.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“I hear you enjoyed my lemon wedges,” she said.The one who bakes stuff.
“You will be quizzed on this later,” Daniella informed me. She was sitting on the arm of a nearby couch, sipping a martini, looking amused with my discomfort.
I didn’t even like martinis, but I’d take one right now.
Unfortunately, no one offered.
