Page 93 of Handle Me

“It’s all on the table, but maybe Anders can dig up some wine.”

“I’m not sure if I have any.”

“You do.” Mum shot me a sweet and meaningful look that told me I was expected to find wine. Now.

No good could come of leaving my ex-girlfriend, if Lola even qualified as that, with my mother, but I knew better than to argue. “I’ve got a few bottles in the garage.”

I headed to the garage, trying to sort through the mess I felt inside myself. Seeing Lola and my mother getting along like old friends made me realize how much I missed having her in my life. But I tried to push those thoughts aside and focus on picking out a good wine. I grabbed a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, hoping it would meet my mother’s approval.

When I returned to the kitchen, Lola and my mother were at the table, heads together and laughing.

“Please tell me you didn’t tell her the dog story,” I said as I carried the wine to the table.

Lola looked up at me, her eyes sparkling with laughter. “Oh, she did.”

“It’s a cute story.” Mum reached to dish up a plate for me, but Lola stopped her.

“Let me. You cooked.”

Mum shot me a look over Lola’s head that clearly said she approved of this girl.

“It’s not a cute story. It’s mortifying,” I informed them.

Lola passed a filled plate to my mother and then reached for mine. “You don’t have to do that,” I said in a low voice.

“Pour me some wine, and we’ll call it even.” She turned toward my mum as she dished up the plate. “So he didn’t behave much as a kid either?”

“I was an angel,” I said as I uncorked the Cab.

“Hardly,” Mum said with a snort. “I didn’t think he was going to live to see ten years old.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Lola set the plate in front of me, and our eyes met again, lingering just too long. She cleared her throat and turned away.

My mother spent the next hour cataloging my entire youth in escalating order of the most embarrassing incidents of my life.

“It sounds like he kept you busy,” Lola said after she wrapped up the time I’d broken my leg trying to learn to skateboard.

“He did.” Mum sighed and looked at me with the kind of love that made me feel guilty for all the shit I’d put her through. “He’s alive, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. He’s still trying—and trying my heart.” She turned to Lola. “Maybe you can talk him into a less dangerous career.”

“I doubt that.” Lola laughed, but it was a tad hollow. “He does what he wants.”

“And he always has. Remember when you ran away?” She turned to me.

I rolled my eyes but nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t remember why.”

“Neither do I.” She shook her head. “But you packed half the food in the kitchen, nothing else, mind you, and took off.”

“My strategy needed work,” I told Lola, who giggled.

“Just food, huh?”

“In my defense, growing boys are very hungry.”

“I was in absolute panic,” Mum told her. “I called all his friends. No one had seen him. The police were called, and do you remember where they found you?”

“The track.” I rubbed my hands together. I could almost smell the air that day at Silverstone. “That day changed my life. I met Wilkes.”