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She rolls her eyes and then drinks the last of her wine. Why hadn’t I gone back to California?
“Okay, but, Baxter, you know this is me. I’m happy like this. I won’t change for you even just for this one week. My clothes, my tastes, how I wear my hair.” She pauses and lifts an eyebrow. I don’t move a muscle. “I hate what your dad has done to you. I hate how he treats you. The way he’s caused you to doubt yourself, it’s terrible.”
Hope fills me and I want to hug her. Instead, I hold back. “I just need you to pretend until they leave. For old time’s sake, please.”
She eyes her empty wine glass and her shoulders drop. I know I have her. Then her gaze meets mine and I wonder once again why I didn’t jump on her when I had the chance in college.
“Okay, I’m going to regret it, but I can do that.”
Her words fill me with hope, and I'm about to hug her when the alarm on my phone rings. It's show time. I pull my phone from my pocket and see I have a text from my mother.
“What’s up?” Heather asks.
“She thinks I should make sure you wear appropriate clothing to tonight’s dinner.”
Heather’s chin drops and her eyes go hard. “What? Appropriate clothing? What the heck does that mean?”
I sigh. Heather has everything to give me hell. I can’t believe I’d offered to pay her, and now my mom was being a fool. “Ignore her.”
Heather’s hand tightens on my arm. “I’m sorry, but I don’t like your mother.”
I grimace because what else can I do. "Funny, she has always been the nicest one, it's usually my dad who is the asshole."
Heather shakes her head, a frown making her lips turn down sharply. “Okay, let’s go. But I’m heading home from the restaurant so I have to take my bag.”
“It’s fine. I’ll keep up with it. Don’t worry. I have you covered.”
When we’d been at Stanford, Heather impressed me with how unconventional she was. She didn’t follow the rules. She was exactly the opposite of what my parents would want for me. When I’d met Sandra, I knew she would appeal to my mother and father. She had no originality, nothing I thought special. Maybe that’s what kept me from falling in love with her. Sure, I’d been engaged, but I didn’t love her. Heather was different. When she left, and she would leave, my mom and dad would welcome whatever woman I chose next which made me sad. They would never admit they hated she was black, but I saw it in their eyes.
Heather wasn’t my girlfriend, but maybe someone like her should be what I’m looking for. I didn't like her just because of her differences, I liked her because she was kind. Her heart and soul were pure and loving. In my family, our souls weren't good.
A light rain fell, turning the pavement slick. On the way to the restaurant, two cars almost hit the Uber we were in. Heather grabs on tight to my arm and doesn’t let go until we’re standing on the sidewalk. We both laugh a little as the car takes off.
“That was crazy,” Heather quips.
“Totally.”
We step into the restaurant and my mom's gaze travels down Heather's dress. The curl of my mom's nose is unmistakable. I was going to say something, but Heather steps forward and takes my mother's hand. Her smile is so bright it's nearly blinding.
“Lucinda, it’s so nice to see you again. I’m glad we get to eat dinner together.”
The look my mom gives me is a mix of bewilderment and annoyance. I want to laugh. My mom wasn’t used to people being open and real like Heather was. Mom’s friends were fake and full of shit. Heather was sweet and down to earth. Maybe she was being too sweet. Nothing my mom or dad said threw her off her game. But when we stand to leave the restaurant and my parents aren’t looking at her, I see her face fall. I can’t let her go home alone, not after seeing the despair—maybe that wasn’t the right word—on her face.
My parents’ apartment is only two blocks away so we say our goodbyes. My mom doesn’t make any noise about us coming over, and I don’t offer to walk them home. But I do turn to Heather, catching her frown.
“I’ll call an Uber.” I want to reach out and hug her, but I keep my hands to myself since she seems skittish.
She gives her head a short shake. “No need. I can take the subway.”
I don’t like the idea of her taking the subway alone. Saying so would probably get me an earful from her, so I keep quiet. But I’m not allowing her to travel home alone. She may not be my real fiancée, but I care for her. “I’ll go with you.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m perfectly—”
“Capable?”
She plants her hands on her hips. Now I’ve angered the beast. A thrill races through me. “What, you doubt my capability?”
Her question turns me on. I want to pull her into my arms and go all caveman on her. I’m not usually like that. With Sandra, I knew she would be safe because she only took town cars or Uber. Heather would skip into a subway station with no cares on her mind…well, maybe she wouldn’t do that, but she would face danger head-on. That scares me.
