Chapter Forty-Four
Griffin
I pull Sierra away before Mom can tells her any more stories. The only reason I didn’t do so sooner is because I don’t want Sierra to think I’m trying to hide her from my parents. Been there, done that with an ex-girlfriend who accused me of being ashamed of her. In her mind, the only reason I wouldn’t let her meet my parents was that I didn’t find her worthy.
Hopefully, Sierra isn’t quite that illogical, but she is female. Just look at how Emmett got dumped. He didn’t do anything; it was all Dad. But Emmett paid the price.
Anyway, Mom talked for a bit and Sierra got enough social time. No reason to torture myself further by sitting there, dreading the situation and wondering when Mom will start acting out or do something that will humiliate me. And hopefully Sierra didn’t figure out from the conversation that the ever-embarrassing Ted Lasker is my father.
When we’re in the suite, Sierra turns to me. “Isn’t that amazing?”
“What is?” I ask, going over what Mom said that could be considered “amazing,” even by Sierra’s standards.
“How we’ve known each other since New Orleans! It’s like fate!” She looks at me like I’m a delinquent student who doesn’t pay attention. “Do you think maybe we knew each other even before New Orleans? Like we met at another party or event?”
“I doubt it.” Yes, it’s interesting that we ran into each other in New Orleans. The statistical probability of that, plus us meeting each other at Dad’s party, then again at her company, is very, very small. A true outlier event. But it’s a series of coincidences, not something to drop one’s jaw over. And it most certainly is not fate. More like a human tendency to retroactively assign meaning and connection to unrelated events.
Still, I’m not going to ruin her good mood by pointing out the absurdity of getting excited over freak coincidences. Her reaction is too cute and sweet. I can let her be happy and enjoy her exuberance.
I’m an economist, not a monster.
“I’m really glad I got to talk to your mom again. Otherwise we would’ve never known we met at the masquerade party. I wish we could’ve talked more.” She shakes her head. “Actually, I wish the three of us had had a chance to talk at the party.”
“Party?”
“You know. Ted Lasker’s birthday party. Then you and I might’ve found out that we’d already met in New Orleans. And we would’ve had more opportunities to get to know each other, don’t you think?”
I stare at her. Nobody in my social circle wants to spend much time with my overly dramatic mother, unless they want to break into modeling or acting using her connections. Since Sierra isn’t interested in either, she must really like Mother for some reason.
I don’t get it. But when she’s looking up at me, eyes glinting with happiness, the reason doesn’t seem to matter.
“You’re right.” A vague response is better than voicing what I really think and snuffing out that light in her eyes.
“I’m curious why you pulled us apart there. Did you think I’d embarrass you or something?”
Not you, but Mom. But I don’t want to get into the humiliating family history. Some people love oversharing for sympathy and attention. Not me.
“No. You could never embarrass me.” I claim Sierra’s mouth in a hot kiss, directing her focus to something more productive and fun.
It’s our last night in Tokyo, and we should make it memorable.