“I should have fucking pretended to get lost coming back from Mav’s cabin,” Blake whispers under his breath as he shifts on his chair.
“Too late,” I whisper back, resting my hand on his thigh while watching Sandy, his grandma, and Lance, her boyfriend, who are seated across the table from us. The two of them are completely oblivious to how uncomfortable it is being around them as they whisper, kiss, and laugh like they’re the only people in the room. Honestly, though, if they weren’t making things so awkward, I would think they’re cute together.
“I need a glass of wine,” Margret announces suddenly, pushing back from the table, and I tip my head back to look at her when she rests her hand on my shoulder. “Do you want a glass?”
“Sure, thanks.”
“No problem.” She looks at Sandy. “Grandma?”
“Lance and I will go with you and see if your mama and daddy need any help with dinner.” Sandy gets up, with Lance following her lead; then the three of them leave the room. I turn to Blake to see his frown firmly in place, his eyes on the door.
“They’re gone. You can stop frowning for a minute and give your muscles a break,” I tell him, and he meets my gaze.
“Does Margret seem off to you?”
“I think everyone is off, watching your grandma. I thought you were overexaggerating, but you were not.”
“No, it’s not that. She loves Lance and that Grandma found him.”
“Oh.” I glance to the door, realizing she hasn’t been her happy-go-lucky self since we got back with groceries. “Now that you mention it, she did seem a little off when we got back from the store.”
“That’s what I was thinking. I wonder.” He shakes his head, and I raise a brow.
“Wonder what?”
“I called Mason when I found that Mav wasn’t at his cabin to see if he’s heard from him. He told me he hadn’t. He also mentioned he was going on a date when I asked if he was coming to dinner.”
“Oh.” I glance at the door. “Does Margret know that?”
“Yeah, he said he mentioned it to her,” he says, and my heart sinks. “Do you think that’s why she’s upset?”
“Honestly?” I ask, and he nods. “Yes . . . if she knows that he has a date, she’s probably more hurt than she thought she would be, and maybe even confused.” I give his thigh a squeeze. “I mean, I know they’re friends, but I also think there are deeper feelings there that maybe neither of them has been willing to act on because of Taylor’s dad and Mason’s loyalty to you.”
“I should talk to her.” He starts to stand, but I stop him before he can.
“No, you shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because she needs time to work out how she’s feeling, and all that you talking to her is going to do is make her defensive.”
“I’m not going to attack her.”
“I know you’re not, but I’m sure you’ve always made it clear you would be upset if she wanted to date one of your friends, so she will not accept that you’re somehow okay with it now. Plus, she might not even realize that’s what she wants.”
“So what do I do?” he asks, sounding unsure, and my face softens.
“Nothing,” I say quietly, touching my fingertips to the edge of his jaw. “I know that goes against everything that makes you you, but really, Margret needs to deal with this situation on her own.”
“I don’t like the idea of her hurting.”
“I know, but give her a little time to work through her feelings before you jump in to save the day.”
His eyes scan mine, and I can tell that he’s torn, so I’m surprised when he says, “Okay.”
“Mom is taking the lasagna out of the oven,” Margret says a second later, and I look up at her as she places a glass of red wine on the table next to me.
“Does she need any help?” I ask.
“Nope, between Dad, Lance, and Grandma, I think she’s covered.” She takes a seat, then gulps down almost half her glass.
“I should go wake up Sam.” I start to get up, but Blake stops me.
“I’ll go get him.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He touches his lips to my temple, then gets up and walks out of the room.
“He’s in love with you,” Margret says softly, and my heart flutters inside my chest as I turn to look at her, and I open my mouth to deny it. “And don’t even bother saying he’s not.” She waves her hand and takes another gulp of wine. “I know him better than anyone, maybe even better than he knows himself, and without a doubt, he’s in love with Sam and you.”
“I . . .” God, what do I say to that? I can’t say I love him too. Even if this feels a lot like love, I have to be realistic. We hardly know each other. “We haven’t even been together long.”