Maybe she won’t pick up.
Hartley picks up on the third ring and I freeze when I hear her sweet southern accent.
“Hello?”
“Hey, sweets. We’re just headed home from the airport and––”
“Hi, Hartley! We can’t wait to meet you!” my mom yells from the back seat and I wince slightly before I shoot a warning look in the rearview mirror.
“Hi, Mrs. Grove!”
“We can’t wait to meet you, honey!” my mom repeats and I suddenly regret dragging Hartley into this.
My mom is going to fall in love with her and we’re going to have to pretend to be together forever. No way would she forgive me for dumping the sweet girl, and I’m sure I’d be in trouble if I said that Hartley ever dumped me.
“I can’t wait to meet y’all too,” Hartley says with a sweet laugh.
“Anyway,” I interrupt, trying to keep this call from going off the rails. “My mom would like to know when you can come over for dinner this week.”
I send up a silent prayer that she doesn’t say tonight. I just need one more day to figure out why I can’t stop thinking about her. One more day to shore up my defenses so that no one can tell that this is all pretend.
“Um, I can maybe do tomorrow? I’ve got to get some more work done here tonight,” she says apologetically.
“Perfect! Five o’clock work for you?” my mom asks and I want to roll my eyes.
“Sounds good!” Hartley says and I’m surprised to hear a thread of excitement in her voice. “I’ll see you then. Bye!”
“I’ll text you later, sweets,” I say before I hit the button to end the call.
I glance in the mirror at my mom and she shrugs.
“You said that I couldn’t ask her a bunch of questions. I merely said hi and that we were excited to meet her.”
She gives me a look that it seems only mothers can give and I let out a sigh.
We spend the rest of the drive catching up. My mom tells me stories about their friends down in Florida and what they’re remodeling in their house. My parents both like to keep busy, so my mom spends her days volunteering and joining her friends for water aerobics or yoga classes.
My dad prefers to stay a little closer to home, so he does work around the house. He has a long list of things that my mom wants done around the place, and I listen as he tells me about the back deck that he just got done building. Now my mom is trying to figure out if she wants flower boxes or a raised garden bed built next. My mom tells me about how she’s thinking about redoing the guest bathroom and how if they’re doing one, they might as well do the bathroom in the master bedroom as well.
“Remember that dark blue vanity that we saw at Home Depot, honey?” my mom asks my dad and I grin as he nods. We both know what’s coming.
“I think that it would look great in our bathroom. We can redo the tile too. I’ve been on this website called Pinterest. Have you heard of it, Eli? It’s great for inspiration.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of it, Mom.”
“I love it! I’ve been flagging all of the ideas that I like and saving them to this thing that they call boards,” she continues.
“Uh huh,” I hum, letting her tell me all about her Pinterest boards and all of the things that she’s saving.
By the time that we pull into the drive outside my house, snow is starting to fall. It’s just a few flurries now, but I know that I’ll be out here plowing the driveway in the morning. I make a mental note to pick Hartley up. She shouldn’t be driving her little car around in this weather.
That thought stops me in my tracks and I gulp.
I’m excited to see her again, I realize.
I have fun with Hartley. She’s sweet and funny and kind. I liked seeing her with Brennan, watching the two of them bond over cooking. She’s patient and her sweet southern accent calms me and excites me all at once.
Those thoughts have my stomach dropping and dread fills me.
Shit.
Leave it to me to develop some kind of feelings for the one girl who isn’t interested in a relationship.
You’re not falling for her. You two are just friends. You’ve never had a friend who was a girl before, so that’s why it seems like it’s something more than it is. There’s nothing else going on here.
I try to push thoughts of Hartley from my mind as I help carry in my parents’ luggage. They get settled in the guest room and I head to the kitchen to make a quick dinner. We catch up and they head to bed early.
I should do the same. Lord knows that I’m going to need my energy to keep up with my mom tomorrow, but as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling and listening to the wind howl outside, all I can think about is Hartley.