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“Do you have any plans tonight?” Johanna’s question comes out of the blue.
“Not really.” I give a noncommittal shrug. “I’ll probably order a pizza and watch TV.”
She looks utterly horrified at the idea and shakes her head. “An attractive woman like you can’t stay home on a Friday night. You don’t get out much as it is, and stopping for coffee at Brew Haven doesn’t count.” Before I can object and say it does count, she continues on, “Aspen Grove may be a small town, but there’s plenty to do. My friend Stacy owns the Willow Creek Café and is hosting a get-together tonight for all the young folks in town. You should stop by.”
“That’s so sweet of you to invite me, but—”
“You have to go,” Johanna insists, her blue eyes imploring me not to argue. “Trust me, you’ll have such a great time. It starts at seven, and there’s plenty of street parking.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. I’m not sure—”
“Excellent,” she interrupts me again. “I’ll let Stacy know you’re coming.” Johanna pulls out her phone and quickly taps away on the screen, glancing up when she’s finished. “Stacy says she’s looking forward to seeing you there. The meet-up will be in the events room, so you can head straight back when you get there tonight.”
“Um, okay,” I say awkwardly.
“Well, I better get back inside to check on Lola. I hope you have a wonderful evening, and I can’t wait to hear all about it.” Johanna leaves me standing on the sidewalk with my mouth gaping open.
“Bye,” I say, even though she’s already out of earshot.
What did I get myself into?
I glance down at Waffles, who’s staring at me. “Don’t look at me like that,” I warn him with my hand on my hip. “What was I supposed to do? Johanna’s not an easy person to say no to. How could I let her down when she looked so excited about the prospect of me getting out of the house?” I say with a heavy sigh.
So much for a quiet night at home.
12
DYLAN
“MOM, I’VE TOLD YOU I’M not going out tonight.” I maneuver around her, carrying a handful of dishes from her and Lola’s earlier dinner. “I have to work on a hundred-page financial report for Harrison that he needs by Sunday.” I don’t mention that I may also have to go to New York this coming week to handle some in-person meetings.
“Harrison’s report can wait,” she says, following me to the sink. “If he complains, blame me. He can’t be angry with his mother.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’d love that.” I deadpan. “Besides, I don’t want to leave Lola.” I rinse off the plates and utensils before loading them into the dishwasher.
“She’s already in bed for the night, remember?” My mom places her hand on mine, forcing me to look at her. “Sweetheart, there’s nothing wrong with having a life outside of Lola and your job. It’s important that you do something for yourself on occasion.” She’s exceptionally pushy tonight.
“I appreciate your concern, but shouldn’t you be getting home to Dad?” I utter with a hint of annoyance.
“No, he’s at the Old Mill Brewery with some former colleagues, so I’m in no rush,” she says cheerfully, propping her hip against the counter. “Now, will you please stop trying to change the subject? I was merely suggesting you go to the Willow Creek Café and socialize with people your age. Would that be so bad?”
Yes, it would.
Once I’ve finished loading the dishwasher, I start the cycle and dry my hands using the dish towel on the counter. My mom watches me like a hawk, impatiently waiting for me to answer.
“I know everyone in this town, and I can confidently say that I have no desire to spend time with any of them. Most people who go to these things live in their parents’ basement, don’t have a job, or are looking for a free ride—none of which I have in common.”
“Oh shush, you’re being dramatic. I guarantee there will be at leastoneperson there whose company you’ll enjoy. You just need to give it a chance.”
“Mom, I don’t want—”
“Honestly, Dylan, will you stop being so difficult?” She sighs in exasperation. “Please go for me?” She mirrors Lola’s classic puppy dog eyes.
“Good grief,” I mutter.
If persistence were an Olympic sport, my mom would have a gold medal. She has a gift for pushing until you give in to her wishes. While I appreciate my mother’s caring nature, she goes overboard in her eagerness to help. You’d think I’d have mastered the art of saying no by now, but she makes it incredibly difficult to be the one to disappoint her.
“Fine, I’ll go,” I concede, throwing my hands up. “But only for an hour.”
