“We’ve said three sentences total before this,” I said. “And now you want to bond over my dying mother?” My voice was much harsher than normal, but I didn’t regret one word. “Fuck off, Betty, you’ll have better luck seducing the bartender that throws you out on the weekends.”
“Fuck you, Gavin,” she snarled and walked off. I didn’t bother watching her sway her hips as she stormed away. The afternoon was slowly coming to a close, and I needed to be home to greet Maddie, the first devil that trapped me.
It wasn’t long until Maddie’s car pulled into the driveway. I watched as she closed the car behind her and casually strolled up to my door as if she lived here. It dawned on me that Mom would probably expect us to live together before getting married, at least for a month or two, and I would have to take that step soon. I wasn’t particularly excited for that.
I waited until her hand was raised to knock on the door before opening it.
“You’re late,” I said, knowing full and well she was nearly 10 minutes early. She didn’t bother arguing, opting to roll her eyes and walk past me toward the living room. Her legs were covered in a flowing skirt that draped onto the floor, and her torso in a tight-fitting shirt that hugged her chest in a way that I couldn’t stop noticing. Her hair was down, full of volume and as shiny as a freshly waxed wooden furniture, and the highlights of cherry red didn’t help the wood similarity. “We’re having dinner with my mother.”
“I know,” she said and took a seat on the couch. She checked a thin watch on her wrist, more jewelry than functional, and glanced at me. “We leave here exactly at six. I know the drill.”
So she did. We’d had dinner with Mom the other night, followed by another instance of Maddie attacking me nearly the minute we crossed into the home. She was comfortable with our arrangement, and never asked to sleep over or spend any more time with me than necessary. In fact, most of our time together was spent either naked or planning our next dinner with Mom.
“Don’t bring up my stories again,” I said. After nearly an hour of conversation about why I stopped writing, Mom had taken it upon herself to drag Maddie into convincing me to write again. “I don’t have the time.”
“You don’t have the time to write?” she asked. “What else are you doing with your time? Going on fake dates with other women?”
“That depends,” I said. “Are you spending your time blackmailing any other men?”
The edge of her mouth tilted downward, the only thing that revealed how uncomfortable she was talking about what she’d done. I knew she hadn’t blackmailed me, of course, but I loved getting a reaction out of her nonetheless. Plus, if I could save some other poor asshole from her scheme, then so be it.
“Would that make you jealous?” she asked after a moment's hesitation. I leaned against the door as the clock struck six. Time for dinner.
“If you’re trying to make me jealous, I think you’re going to have a difficult time,” I said. “Come on; it’s time to go.”
She pouted and draped her purse over her shoulders. “Time to go,” she repeated.
Karen met us at the door with a polite smile. I wasn’t sure how she felt about Maddie, the two barely spoke during our dinners, but I did notice her hesitate as she greeted us. Karen shot me a speculative glance, and I shrugged.
There was no way that my mother’s nurse was the only woman who saw through the charade.
“Maddie!” Mom’s smile was genuine as we met her at the dinner table. “How are you, darling?”
“Well, I’m fine, thanks for asking,” I said with a forced laugh. Mom had gotten in the habit of throwing all of her attention onto Maddie during our dinners.
“I know how you’re doing,” Mom said. “You see me three times a day. Really, Maddie, can’t you distract him more than just two nights a week? He needs to get out more.”
I pulled back Maddie’s chair and waited for her to take a seat. She slipped into it, and I sat beside her.
“I guess I could try and take him out to more places,” Maddie said. “Where do you think we should go?”
Once again, I was cast to the side as Mom and Maddie planned my life.
“There’s the ice museum,” Mom suggested. “Or you two can go kayaking. We went once when he was younger, and he loved it until his kayak tipped over and he thought he was going to die.”
Maddie burst out laughing.
“I was 10,” I said. “Of course I thought I was going to die.”
“Have you gone kayaking since then?” Maddie asked. I shook my head.
“It hasn’t appealed to me.”
Her hand inched toward mine, and I recognized the suggestion in her eyes. She wanted me to grab her hand. I settled for lying mine on top of hers.
“Then maybe that’ll be our next date,” she said with a gleam in her eye. “A nice kayaking date.”
“You’ll have to take a ton of pictures,” Mom said as Karen sat out our dinner. Oven roasted salmon with a salad and scalloped potatoes.