I was going to make a joke about his dick, but really, that man was everything to me. He’d saved me, helped me when I had no one else watching my back, and I could never repay him for that.
“I know I didn’t trust Jacob in the beginning,” Mom said, cutting up some vegetables she was going to cook with dinner, “but I’m glad I listened to Oliver.” Was it weirder for her to call him Oliver, or for her to call him Ollie? Ollie was what we’d gone with at the beginning, due to his insistence, though Mom had a habit of calling him Mr. Fitzpatrick to his face.
Hmm. I wasn’t sure, frankly.
“He’s a good man,” she said, glancing at me. “There doesn’t seem to be many of those around here.”
I nodded, reaching over and taking a tiny piece of carrot and popping it in my mouth. Crunchy and hard, just as carrots should be. I wasn’t a huge fan of carrots when they were cooked. Too soft and mushy. Yuck. “Jacob’s nice,” I said, though nice wasn’t really how I’d describe him. For the sake of my mom, though, that’s all I would say.
“I’m sure he’s nicer than any of the boys you’re seeing,” Mom muttered, “though he is way too old for you.”
At that, I nearly choked on the small piece of carrot I’d taken. To cover it up, I went for something to drink and asked, “Speaking of boys, what about you and Ollie?”
My mom stopped cutting, shooting a glare my way. “What on earth are you talking about?”
Ollie and Jacob were upstairs in his office, so I felt confident in talking at my normal volume, not bothering to whisper, “You and Ollie. There’s something going on there, Mom. Come on. Don’t deny it. I’m eighteen. I might be young, but I’m not blind.”
She set down her knife, leaning on the counter as she stared hard at me, her green eyes vivid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jaz. Nothing is going on between Oliver and me. Our relationship is purely professional, and it always will be.”
“So having wine with him is part of your job description?”
“We both need to learn to relax,” she explained, but I wasn’t having any of it.
“Uh-huh, sure, sure. So, since I’m a murder suspect, can I have some wine, then?”
Mom shook her head once, unimpressed with my antics. “Not happening, honey. Nice try.”
I shrugged. “I just figured I’d ask, but seriously, something’s going on.”
She said nothing in response, but I could tell she wanted to argue with me further. The more she said nothing, the more I believed in what I’d said. I’d caught her and Ollie sharing some strange, almost intimate moments these past few weeks. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted my mom to be happy; I wanted her to date. But Oliver Fitzpatrick? We weren’t a part of his world, plus, she was his employee. The town would never let him live it down.
Although, I guess the same could be said of me being with Vaughn and even Archer. I didn’t have money, I didn’t have the prestige or any recognizable last name.
It took my mom over an hour to cook dinner. She made pork chops, steamed vegetables, and mashed potatoes. The long table in the dining room was set up with four plates, of which I helped her do. It was going to be strange, but all four of us would eat together. Honestly, I couldn’t recall a time when we’d ever eaten dinner with Ollie. He always took his meals up to his office, or worked straight through dinner. Usually, it was just Mom and me.
Not tonight. Tonight, it was Ollie, Jacob, Mom, and me.
We had some weird seating positions. Ollie sat at the head of the table, Jacob to his left. Mom sat to his right, and I was beside her. I got to stare across the table at an empty seat, since the table was needlessly long, but I supposed that was better than staring at Jacob and letting my mind fill with ideas.
The meal was silent, for the most part, the sounds of silverware scraping on plates the only noise filling our ears. I threw some glances at Jacob every now and then, but I didn’t let my gaze linger too long. Mom was busy trying to avoid looking at Ollie at all cost, lest she prove me right in what I’d said before.