Aimee sits up and turns from me so that I can’t see her face. She folds her right arm across her chest protectively. Her left hand holds the book in place against her body. “It’s not a part of me that matters.”
“It matters,” I say decidedly. My hand grasps her shoulder and I pull her close so that her head falls to the center of my chest, just beside my heart.
***
I’ve thought of everything. There’s a cooler in the back, a large blanket that I stole from Daniel’s closet and a bottle of decent wine tucked underneath it. I even brought along a Scrabble set that I jacked from Nate because I remembered that she said she liked to play. The best part is that Aimee thinks I’ve got some bullshit all-day practice session so she’s not expecting me. I ran the idea by Mara earlier this week and she said that she’d make sure that Aimee would be home and not doing anything this afternoon.
I knock. I know the grin on my face is so wide that it’s ridiculous but I don’t give a rat’s ass. I’ve been looking forward to this too much to hold back now. Earlier, Aimee told me that her plans for the day include boredom, maybe a pizza for lunch, and some more boredom just to round things out.
Just as my hand is descending to knock again, a middle-aged woman answers the door. She takes in my crazy-ass smile, black board shorts, worn flip-flops, and frowns. “Can I help you with something?”
We haven’t met but I know instantly that this is Aimee’s mother. Take away the crisply ironed shirt she’s wearing and the pearls around her neck, and they look so much alike that it’s a little disconcerting. I take a step back. “Uh, I’m Cole.”
It’s obvious that my name means nothing to her and that almost knocks the wind out of me. I know that Aimee has issues and it’s not like I expected her to tattoo my name on her fucking skin or anything like that, but I at least thought that I had earned a mention to her parents. For fuck’s sake, her mom calls her at least once a day.
“Well… Cole, did you say?” She smiles warmly and extends her hand. “I’m Elise Spencer. Is there something that I can do for you? Are you here to see Mara, because I’m afraid that we’re just about to take the girls out for a late lunch.”
I shake my head to stall. “I… I’m…”
“Oh good.” Mara appears in the doorway and grabs ahold of my arm. “You’re here. I wasn’t sure that you’d make it in time.”
I’m confused, but I let Mara pull me through the front door. Aimee is in the living room standing next to a man that must be her dad. She’s wearing the same light blue dress that she wore on our first official date and I can’t help but think of that kiss we shared outside the restaurant. When she sees me, she wrinkles her nose and squints her eyes like she’s not sure that I’m really standing there.
“This is Cole,” Mara announces to the room.
Aimee’s dad steps forward and gives me a long appraising glance before shaking my hand. “Carl Spencer.”
“Cole Everly,” I mirror his tone and dart my eyes to Aimee in inquiry. She’s twisting her hair around her finger and staring at her shoes.
Behind me, Mrs. Spencer clears her throat. Now that I look closer, I see that this woman’s hair is streaked with amber highlights, and her eyes aren’t nearly as vibrant a blue as Aimee’s. Her right hand is at the base of her throat where her necklace hits her skin. “Cole, would you like to join us for lunch? It’s always nice for Mr. Spencer and I to get to know one of Mara’s friends.”
“Mom,” Mara says with a surge of impatience. “Cole isn’t with me. He’s Aimee’s boyfriend and I wanted you both to meet him.”
Aimee
If looks could kill, my sister would have been toast twenty minutes ago. She and I have been waging one of our sisters-only staring contests since we sat down at the restaurant a half an hour ago.
I have to give a figurative round of applause to my parents. Despite the frostiness between Mara and me and the fact that Cole is wearing his bathing suit at a restaurant that employs a sommelier, they’re trying. My dad has asked all of the standard parental exploratory questions and Mom’s been nodding along enthusiastically to everything that Cole says. Her head is bobbing so fast that if I weren’t so irritated, I’d probably laugh.
“Cole, it seems that Aimee doesn’t tell me much of anything and I can’t help but be curious… How long have you and my daughter been dating?” My mom asks, casually refolding the napkin in her lap.
My daughter.