you get back. I can’t believe my baby’s going to be thirty.”
“Yeah, we can have dinner.”
“Do you think you’ll see Luci while you’re in New York?”
“No.”
A crease formed between my mom’s brows. “Why? Did you break up?”
“We were never actually a couple.”
“I’ll never understand the way things are with you kids these days. You don’t date, you just hook up. There’s never any labels. It wasn’t like that when your dad and I were younger.”
“Not everyone can have what you and Dad have. Not everyone wants what you and Dad have.” I’d been using that same defense since my mom started putting pressure on me about settling down. And even six months ago, I’d believed it. But now, now my conviction had slipped. I did want what my parents had. And I wanted it with Olivia.
“Have you seen much of Olivia since you’ve been home?”
“Why?” I heard the defensiveness in my tone. I hated that I snapped at people. I’d always struggled with that but since the incident, it had been out of control.
“You two always just seemed to have such a special relationship. Every time I’d see the two of you, it was like you were in your own little world. Your father and I used to bet on when you’d get together.”
“You bet on your child’s personal life.”
“You know your father, he bets on everything.”
My mom inclined her head to where my father stood with Mr. Briggs at the exact moment the two men were shaking hands having clearly wagered on something.
“I thought for sure when you hit middle school you’d get together. Your father thought high school.”
“It was never like that with us.” I managed to keep my tone even, but I could feel my shoulders getting tight with tension and defensiveness.
“Even after you left,” she continued, “I kept thinking that somehow, someway you two would end up together.”
“It’s not like that.”
My mom nodded then looked behind me. Her eyes widened. “So it seems.”
When I turned to see what my mom was referring to, I was glad my jaw was attached because if it wasn’t it would have hit the ground.
Olivia was walking up the steps of town square with Jake. Dr. Weston. My PT. Molly was with them, too, but Olivia was walking next to him and was holding flowers that I assumed were from him, which led me to believe that she was there with him.
Seeing the two of them was a physical blow. I felt like the wind was knocked out of me. What compounded the impact was that the two actually did make a cute couple. They looked like the quintessential quarterback and cheerleader. The Prom King and Queen. The two leads in a rom-com.
A sick feeling sank in my stomach. Had he referred me to her class because he was dating her, or trying to date her? Was he in love with her? Was she in love with him? Were the two of them going to get married and have babies?
“Are you okay?” my mom asked. “You look pale like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I have. The Ghost of Christmas Future.
The worst part was, besides the fact that they looked like cake toppers, I had to admit that they would probably be really compatible.
I wanted to throw up.
“I heard that Kenna offered to make you a pot roast.”
On an inhale, I forced myself to look away from the perfect couple. It was hard, like trying not to look at a car crash as you passed by. You knew that you were going to see carnage, but you still wanted to look.
“But you never got back to her.”
I felt like this was a conversation she didn’t even need me for since she had all the information. “I texted her back.”
I told her I was busy.
“She’s a sweet girl.”
“I’m sure she is.” I could feel my frustration building. Part of it had to do with people continuing to bring up Kenna. But mainly it was because Olivia was here with Jake fucking Weston.
All the years I’d been sure that someone would tell me that she was dating someone seriously or had gotten engaged it never happened. But now I had a feeling that it was happening, and I was going to get a front-row seat.
“I know that you’re dealing with a lot right now and concentrating on your rehabilitation, but one dinner wouldn’t hurt.”
“Yes, it would.”
“How?” She lifted her hands, palms side up. “How could one dinner hurt?”
“Do you hear yourself?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,