Pretty Sweet - Christina Lee Page 0,7
before kissing me on the forehead. “I better run, then. Have fun. Love you, talk to you tomorrow.”
“Love you too,” I replied as Jesse left.
As soon as the door closed, the apartment felt too quiet again. And it never really felt like a home either. None of the decorations were mine. Mom had come with me and paid someone to do it. The tile flooring felt cold, and the stark colors and modern designs felt like a photo in a magazine instead of a cozy home. It was one hundred percent Mom’s taste.
I went over to the piano against the far wall and played for about half an hour. It always helped distract me. By then it was late enough that I jumped in the shower, then got dressed in dark jeans and a navy shirt. I put eyeliner on, but no lipstick. My hair always flopped over my forehead, so I grabbed the baseball cap I liked to wear and put it on backward.
On the way there, I stopped and bought a bottle of wine, then thought they might not drink wine and got some beer as well, one of the apple kinds I saw Dane drink occasionally. As I walked toward the front of the store, their floral department caught my eye, so I grabbed flowers too, almost put them back, almost put everything back, and then went with it.
I obviously wasn’t very good at this.
Bonnie’s house was in Southeast Portland in the Brentwood-Darling neighborhood, which was all residential homes, some old and some newer. I pulled up in front of their brown A-frame house. It was older, probably thirty years old or so, but it looked…comfortable.
My hands were a little sweaty. I rubbed them on my jeans. It was silly to be nervous to have dinner with Bonnie, but I didn’t know her son or what to expect. In some ways I guessed I was more like my mom than I liked to admit. I wanted some kind of control.
I pushed open the car door, grabbed the stuff, and got out. I made it to the driveway when the door opened and Bonnie came out. “Look at you! You didn’t need to bring all that.”
“Sorry.”
“Hush, you. There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s nice. I didn’t want you to feel obligated.”
I handed the flowers and wine over. “I didn’t. I appreciate you guys having me over.”
“No problem.”
She led me inside, and it was nice and homey, with mostly warm colors. The large living room had a tan couch and led right into the kitchen, which had an island as well as a long wooden dining table.
“I’ll put these in some water. My son is in the shower. He’s running a few minutes behind. He’s a mechanic and stayed a little late.”
“No worries.”
She took the beer from me and put it in the fridge. “Do you want one?”
“No, thanks. I’m good. Maybe some water?”
“Sure thing.”
It was funny that I’d been nervous, because as soon as I stepped inside with Bonnie, I felt better. She was comforting that way—the way I’d always thought a mom should be. Their house was homey, lived in, which I immediately liked. I bet she’d held her son when he cried and tucked him in when he was young, all things I had random flashes of from before my dad died, but no memories of at all once he was gone.
She gave me a glass of ice water, and I thanked her and said, “Smells great in here.”
“I’m making roast with potatoes, carrots, and onions.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Nothing other than visit with me.” She gave me a kind smile. “I went and looked at an apartment yesterday.”
“Did you like it?”
“I did. I’m still not sure if that will happen or not, but it’s cute. A small one-bedroom, perfect for me.”
I looked around their house. “I can’t believe you want to leave here. I love your house.”
“You’re so sweet. It’s not that I don’t like it, but it’s not mine. It’s Jake’s. He’s dealt with his mama long enough. I’m sure he’s ready for some space,” she said, and I realized this was the first time she’d used his name.
“I don’t need space,” I heard in a deep, rumbling voice as a man walked around the corner. He was tall, with dark, wavy hair and scruff along his jaw, big blue eyes, and a broad chest that yep, I’d seen before. One I’d ogled before too.
“Oh, I know you. You’re friends with Mark,