Marrying Mr. Wrong (Dirty Martini Running Club #3) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,63
and her skimpy outfits.
By the fourth green, she seemed to have run out of stories.
“You’re awfully quiet,” she said. “What’s on your mind?”
She had no idea how big of a question that was.
“Do you remember when we lived here in Seattle when I was a kid?”
Her eyebrows lifted with curiosity. “I do.”
“There was a girl who lived down the street from us. She was in my class at school and—”
“Sophie Abbott?”
I’d been about to keep describing her, but apparently I didn’t need to. “Yeah, that’s her. You remember Sophie?”
“Of course I do. You wouldn’t leave that poor girl alone. I must have been called in for meetings with the principal half a dozen times.”
I winced. “I was that bad?”
“You were always teasing her and pulling her hair. Some people tried to say boys will be boys, but I was having none of it. I would have whooped you for it, but we both know I didn’t do that. I did take away your video games and grounded you from seeing your friends pretty often. But that was also a very rough time.”
“Mom, we don’t have to talk about that.”
“Maybe we should.”
“I ran into Sophie again,” I said quickly, hoping to change the subject.
“Did you, now?”
“She works for an associate of mine.”
“I certainly hope you behaved yourself,” she said. “No pulling her hair this time.”
I choked back a laugh. Only if she wants me to, Mom. “I behaved myself. Mostly.”
“What’s she like?”
“Sweet as cherry pie.”
“So all your teasing didn’t do any lasting damage?”
I took a deep breath. “I hope not. Although now I feel like I owe her an apology.”
“I’d say you do. So when are you bringing her by?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
I side-eyed her. “Why would you think I’d bring her by?”
“Why else did you mention her?”
“Mom, it’s not what you think.”
She huffed. “If you keep putting this off, you’ll never make me a grandma.”
“Whoa, slow down. I ask if you remember a girl I knew twenty years ago and you’re jumping to grandkids?”
“No, but I think you’re fixin’ to tell me something important about Miss Sophie Abbott. And I’m just registering my impatience for you to grow the hell up and settle down already.”
“What is it with parents and your obsession with getting your kids married off? Do y’all have meetings where you discuss strategy?”
“As a matter of fact, we do. Last month, the theme was grown-ass men who never date a girl long enough to bring one home to meet their mama. I took a lot of notes.”
I laughed out loud because what else could I do? The truth was so ridiculous, she wasn’t going to believe me. “Mama, I got married.”
“Don’t play with me, Camden. It ain’t nice.”
“I ain’t playin’.” I cleared my throat. I could hear my accent getting thicker. It tended to do that around my mom, or when I was worked up about something. And right then, I was both. “That’s why I brought up Sophie Abbott. We ran into each other in Vegas and wound up getting married at one of those twenty-four-hour chapels.”
She stared at me like I’d just sprouted a second head. “When?”
Well shit, this was going to piss her off. “About a month ago.”
Her eyes widened. “You got married a month ago and I’m just now hearing about it?”
“I told you, it’s not what you think.”
“Well, let’s hope not.”
“It was a mistake and we aren’t staying married. That’s why I didn’t tell you right away.”
She crossed her arms and fixed me in a hard glare. The little boy in me wanted to flinch away, but I held my ground.
“So why are you telling me now?”
I opened my mouth to answer but stopped. Because I wasn’t sure I had an answer to that question.
“I don’t know.”
She nodded slowly. “Well all right, then.”
“You’re not mad?”
“No, I’m furious. When you figure this out, I expect you to have another wedding and do it right this time.”
“There’s nothing to figure out. We got drunk and got married. The only reason we haven’t filed for divorce is so I can avoid bad PR over the ordeal.”
She shot me a look. “Don’t lie to your mother.”
“I ain’t—I’m not lying.”
“The only reason you haven’t filed for divorce? We both know that’s bullshit, so maybe let’s just call a spade a spade and acknowledge that you have feelings for the girl.”
“What makes you think that?”
“You’re trying to hide it, maybe even from yourself. But I can see. You’re smitten. You were then and you are now.”