One Moment Please (Wait With Me #3) - Amy Daws Page 0,64
wave at him through the glass.
“What do you mean?” I ask through a smile and motion them inside.
“Why are our parents here?” Josh’s eyes are practically lethal on mine.
My face spreads into a saccharine sweet smile. “Because we have news, Joshy.” I bite my lip and giggle under my breath when I use his mother’s nickname for him. .
“Joshy!” his mom peals right on cue. She pulls him down into a hug. “So nice of you to invite us over for dinner and even hire a caterer. I was completely shocked to see your place looking so…well…furnished.” Her nose wrinkles as she glances around. “Not my taste but if it makes you happy.”
Josh offers a wooden smile as his dad comes around and claps him hard on the back. “You can kiss that historical home grant goodbye after drilling holes in that stonework. God, I didn’t take you for that big of an idiot.”
Josh cuts laser eyes at me. “Yeah, I’m a big, dumb idiot, Dad.”
Cringing, I turn on my heel to grab a bottle of wine off the counter. My face crumples.
This is a really bad start.
“Harv, I keep reminding you that Josh is a doctor, not a contractor,” his mother coos. “Cut him some slack. He was saving young children from cancer when you were building silly houses. Whose work do you think is more meaningful?”
My brow furrows as I turn to look at Josh, who’s conveniently avoiding eye contact with me. Saving children from cancer? What?
Harvey grumbles. “I didn’t really mean idiot…I just mean. God, that was dumb!” He barks out a laugh and shakes his head.
I blink because I have no clue what they’re talking about, and now really isn’t the time, so I gesture to the table. “Harvey, Lana? These are my parents, Darren and Sue Jones. Mom, Dad, these are Josh’s parents, Lana and Harvey Richardson. Why don’t you guys join them at the table? I’ll bring the wine,” I bellow like an overacting child.
Josh gently grabs my arm and turns me on my heels. “This isn’t funny, Lynsey. What is your plan here?”
“It’s not meant to be funny.” I pin Josh with a confident look that I don’t altogether believe anymore. “And, honestly, you’re the one who gave me the idea.”
“What idea?” he hisses.
I shrug. “The Band-Aid ripping off thing. We’ll tear this off in one fell swoop, and then the secret’s out and we can all move on with our lives, okay?”
“You have no idea what you’ve done.” Josh lets out a huff through his nose before walking to the glasses of wine I’ve poured and grabbing one for himself. “You can’t even drink through this.”
I grimace and push him to the table. He takes the seat at the head and I sit down opposite him, offering polite smiles to Josh’s parents on my left and a wobbly smile to my parents on my right.
Just like a Band-Aid, Lyns!
I open my mouth to speak, but my mother interrupts.
“Are you two engaged?” she asks, her eyes wide and hungry over the prospect that I could be engaged to a doctor, never mind the fact that she’s never met the man.
“Oh, my God, you’re not the caterer,” Josh’s mom exclaims, clapping her hands to her cheeks. “I’m such a fool…are you Josh’s wife? Did you two elope?” Lana’s voice reaches a high-pitch squeal as she looks elated at the notion. “I’d given up on Josh ever being happy again, so this news would just—”
“You’d better not have eloped,” my mother tuts, her voice harsh and displeased. “A marriage is not even real unless it takes place in Catholic church.”
“Excuse me?” Josh’s mom exclaims, holding her hand to her shocked chest.
“Well, that’s our belief,” my mom states, reaching over and holding my obviously uncomfortable dad’s hand. “You are welcome to yours, but if it didn’t happen inside a church, then it didn’t happen in the eyes of God.”
Lana laughs. “That’s not how my God sees it.”
My mom narrows her eyes. “And who is your God?”
A slow smile spreads on Lana’s face. “The same one as yours, but a bit less homophobic and self-righteous.”
My mother gasps, and I slam my hands on the table to stop them. “We’re not married. We’re not engaged. We’re not even in a relationship!” The enormously fake smile on my face stretches to capacity as if I’m auditioning for the role of the Joker because I’m certain they can see my molars right now.