Five First Dates (Sassy in the City 2)

“I would never let anything happen to you, you know that right?” she said. “You’re my best friend and I’m a bulldog to your Pomeranian.”

I did. My heart warmed. “I know. Though I’ve always pictured myself more as an Irish setter. Glamorous, with great hair.”

She laughed. “How do you picture me?”

“Bulldog sounds right,” I joked.

“Bitch.”

“I love you, Isla.”

“Whatever.”

Lillian was hanging on my back, her favorite position, while I popped sugared walnuts into my mouth. Occasionally I would drop down so that Lil almost fell and she would squeal with laughter. I’d missed my family and I was glad to be home, even though the timing sucked. I had wanted nothing more than to spend the entire day loving on Savannah.

I love you, too.

Those words had come out of her mouth. Savannah Prescott had said she loved me and the whole world was bright and shiny and new and fucking perfect.

I’d never been happier and nothing could wreck my mood.

“Lillian, give me a minute with your brother,” my mother

said, coming over to the buffet table where I was hunkered down.

“I don’t want to leave,” Lillian complained.

“Go,” my mother said in that voice that meant business. She pointed to the other side of the room.

Lillian jumped down off of me and ran off. I had the distinct impression I was in trouble. Which shouldn’t scare me at my age but did make me uneasy. I loved my mother too much to not care if she was pissed at me.

“Are you enjoying your birthday?” I asked. “You look great, by the way.”

She crossed her arms and gave me a suspicious look. She had her hair curled and full makeup on. Despite it being lunchtime she was wearing super tight jeans and boots that went over her knees. Her nails were painted black and her sweater did a plunge that I’m sure Mike appreciated but I could do without. But that was my mother.

“Don’t be sarcastic,” she said. “I know you don’t like the way I dress.”

“I was not being sarcastic. I really mean you look great. How you dress is your business,” I said, sincerely. “It’s not that I don’t like it. I just never enjoyed being out in public with you when I was nineteen and having people think we were a couple.” Most awkward thing ever.

She laughed. “Trust me, I didn’t enjoy that either. The older we both get the odder our age difference seems. When I was eighteen and you were three, it all seemed natural and normal. But now you’re a grown man and I’m not even forty. It’s bizarre.”

“Especially given how mature I am,” I joked, reaching for another nut. “These things are like candy, by the way.”

“Don’t talk about nuts. I’m mad at you,” she said.

There it was. I had known she was giving off a vibe. “What did I do?”

“You used to tell me things, Weirdo.” Her expression was wounded.

I was used to the nickname. She’d been calling me that as long as I could remember, but in recent years she only used it when she was upset or angry. “I tell you things.”

“Then why haven’t you told me about her.”

Alarm bells went off. Who knew about Savannah? The show hadn’t aired yet and there weren’t even clips online yet. Had someone put something on social media? That seemed farfetched.

“About who?” I asked, proceeding with caution.

“Whoever it is that you’re in love with, because it’s obvious to me, your mother, that you’re in love. It’s written all over your face.”