“I thought we’d go to town since tomorrow is the party. I refuse to lift a finger today.”
Somehow, I doubted Tiffany Caldwell lifted a finger any day unless it was to one-click a purchase on her phone.
“Your house is lovely. What an amazing view.”
Tiffany waved her hand. “Oh, God, this house is horrible. I’ve been telling my husband for years we need to renovate. But all these rules and permits and regulations. I can’t deal with it.”
Just like Grant had said.
“At least the location is fantastic,” I said cheerfully, determined to play “girlfriend trying to impress her boyfriend’s mother.”
No joke, his mother muttered, “Whatever. Of course, you would think so.”
Like she was twelve.
That was so not necessary. Not to mention bitchy and childish.
It made me more determined than ever to kill Tiffany with kindness.
Especially given that Grant looked pissed. He actually reached over and took my hand into his and gave it a squeeze. His nostrils were flaring and he looked like he was fighting the urge to say something. I squeezed back to reassure him.
Why did I care if his mom was being ridiculous? I really didn’t.
Grant’s father had already drained about half of his cocktail, which was astonishing. I swear, I hadn’t even seen him lift the glass more than once, so did he take all of that down with one sip? The very thought made my insides want to burst into flames. But the man probably needed to drink to cope with Tiffany. He was way more chill than his wife.
I decided to make him an ally.
“So how did you and Tiffany meet?” I asked him with a big smile.
Grant shifted on the sofa next to me and cleared his throat.
His father chuckled. His mother gave me a death stare.
“At a party here at this house, actually. Tiffany’s parents owned it then and I had some friends who knew Tiff. We showed up just in time to see Tiff jump into the pool off the roof. Naked. I fell for her right then and there.”
“Wow. How agile,” I said. “I’m impressed. I would be terrified to jump off the roof.” I wasn’t lying about that. You couldn’t pay me to jump into a pool from a rooftop. Naked would be fine. Though maybe not in front of a whole party crowd. But I would certainly swim naked with a boyfriend.
“Grant, why do you have to tell that ridiculous story? My God, it was the eighties. Everyone was jumping off roofs naked. If there wasn’t cocaine and promiscuity it wasn’t even a real party.”
I would lay down money that is not what my parents had been doing in the eighties. More like a keg party with flipped collars at the very most.
“I miss the eighties,” his father said in a joking voice.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
Chapter 11
So far, the weekend was going exactly as expected. My father was half in the bag already and my mother was pouting for no apparent reason whatsoever.
I was resigned to suffer through until we could escape to the north bedroom, which was some sort of statement on my mother’s part. It was the shittiest guest room in the house, facing the garage. My mom never put anyone in that room unless the house was totally full and she was making a statement about the person’s status. I wasn’t sure if the gesture was meant to be a slight against me or against Leah.
I’d heard the naked pool party story a thousand times so that didn’t bother me. At the anniversary party, it was bound to be retold tomorrow. My father absolutely loved the story because it made him look like a baller who landed the hot and wild chick. My mother pretended to hate the story, but I secretly thought she was just angry there was no video footage of it. She was not a woman who regretted her youth—she missed it.
When I was thirteen and they told that story, it had been different. I’d been painfully embarrassed. Thank God the phrase MILF wasn’t in popular existence yet. All of my friends would have loved to give me shit about that. I had often thought in hindsight one of the reasons I’d felt comfortable with Trevor right away was that he wasn’t sexually interested in my mom like ninety percent of my other friends.
“I’m hoping no one is jumping off the roof at your party tomorrow,” I said, and I was only half kidding. “You’re liable if someone gets hurts.”
“You’re such a buzz kill,” Mom said.