Barely Breathing (The Breathing #2)(102)

I watched as Call Ended flashed across my screen, trying to summon the courage to prepare for dinner with Evan and his parents. It would've been better if Jared could have helped deflect the tension―he always seemed to know what to say to make the most serious situations seem light and uncomplicated. But he couldn't drive up from Cornell in the middle of the week.

"What are you wearing?" my mother asked from my open door. I looked up in surprise, wondering how long she'd been standing there.

"Uh, I was thinking the grey pants with the white blouse," I answered, motioning toward the two items hanging on the back of my closet. The pants were serious, like I was going to interview for a law firm serious. But the short sleeved blouse with the puffy capped sleeves was light and airy, keeping it a little more fun.

"Pants?" my mother questioned.

"I'm going to be so nervous. I'll be sweating like crazy. Do you know how uncomfortable it is to sweat behind your knees with a skirt on? It's pretty disgusting actually."

My mother laughed. "Don't be nervous. I'm positive everything will work out for you both."

"You've never met his father," I groaned.

"Well, he can't be any worse than your grandmother," my mother countered with a roll of her eyes. I stopped and looked at her. I had no idea I had a grandmother. Carol and George never mentioned anyone, nor did my mother until this second. I was always under the impression that my grandparents had passed before I was born. Maybe that's what she meant―past tense.

She didn't notice my stunned face. Or perhaps she chose to ignore it.

"Are you going to take a shower? It's getting late."

"Oh, yeah," I answered, jumping up from my bed, abandoning the phone that I still grasped in my hand on the bedspread. I gathered what I needed for the bathroom and moved past my mother down the hall.

After styling my hair in soft curls and dressing in my serious, but not too serious, attire, I was ready. Or at least, I looked ready. Sara would've been proud.

My phone beeped. I turned toward my bed, but it wasn't where I'd left it. Scanning the room, I found it on my dresser. I cocked my head curiously and picked it up to see, On your way? 

Leaving now, I texted back before rushing down the stairs.

"Good luck," my mother offered from the top of the stairs, dressed in a short skirt and camisole.

"Going out?" I deduced.

"I'm overdue," she replied. "No reason to stay in on a Thursday night." Her voice sounded off, a little strained. She smirked and added, "Besides, it's April Fool's Day. What could possibly go wrong?"

"Everything," I said to myself before saying, "Well, have fun," out loud. She turned and went back in her room. I paused in front of the coat closet, wondering if I should be concerned that she was going out. I took a breath and decided to focus on one nerve-racking situation at a time. I grabbed my coat and headed out the door.

When I arrived at the Mathews', Vivian was stepping onto the porch wearing a long white coat and holding a small black clutch.

"Perfect timing, Emily," Vivian greeted, taking a key out of her purse. "Evan, we're ready."

Evan appeared, looking very polished, his overcoat covering what I assumed was a suit. I smiled at his shiny dress shoes, recollecting my nightmare prediction.

Dinners with the Mathews always made me nervous―fearing I'd say the wrong thing or embarrass Evan with my lack of social skills. But tonight I was a wreck. I was convinced I wouldn't be able to eat at all.

"Evan, would you mind driving?" Vivian requested, handing him the key to her BMW.

"Sure," Evan replied. Before heading to the car, he walked over and wrapped his arms around me. "You look amazing. A little pale, but still amazing. You can breathe you know."

"Not yet," I murmured from within his coat. He kissed the top of my head before opening the car door for me.

"This is such an exciting night," Vivian stated from the passenger seat as we drove to the restaurant. "I hope we don't have to wait too long for your father to arrive."

"It doesn't matter if he's there," Evan told her. "He's not going to like where I'm going unless it's Yale."

"Evan," Vivian warned, "don't be that way. He only wants what's best for you, and he will come around to accepting your decision. He may need more time, that's all."

"Yeah, four years," Evan mumbled loud enough for us to hear.

"Wait. You already know where you're going?"

"I already know where I want to go," Evan corrected. "I just need my mother to tell us if I'm going there or not. She's really great at keeping secrets, even from my father."