Page 64 of Once Smitten, Twice Shy

I melt into her hug. “Hi, Mom.”

Her gaze darts past me to Will as she pulls back. “And who is this?”

“Mom, this is my friend Will Orsino. Will, my mom, Maureen Wilmo—”

“Orsino!” Mom claps her hands on her cheeks. “Oh my goodness, you’re Isla’s son, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yes,” Will says, smiling nervously. “It’s nice to meet you.”

I was expecting Mom to put the pieces together, especially considering Orsino is a rare last name. I imagine Will was, too. But I’m still not prepared, and I don’t think Will is either, for the moment she launches herself at him and wraps him in a hug.

“My goodness, let me look at you,” she says as she pulls back. “Isla’s gorgeous red hair.” Her hands land on his face, framing it. “Her incredible cheekbones, well, I think so at least, you’ve got an awfully thick beard, don’t you?”

“Mom.” I swat her gently. “Down, girl.”

Mom swats me back. “Oh, let me admire him. This is sonostalgic. So special. To see Isla and Grant’s kid, the product of that incredible summer—”

Dad clears his throat and smiles. Mom waves her hand. “It’s just the best surprise,” she says.

Dad offers his hand, and Will takes it. “Good to meet you, Will.”

“Dad, Will Orsino. My dad,” I tell Will. “Bill Wilmot.”

Will nods politely. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

Dad grins, his eyes squinting behind his glasses as he smiles. “I always like a guy with the name William.”

I groan at the joke. Dad’s name, like Will’s, is short for William.

Will grins down at me.

“So,” Mom says. “What are you two up to? How did you meet?”

I tell her that Will is a friend of Christopher’s from college, how we met the morning after Christopher’s party a few weeks ago, our agreed narrative since we hatched our plan; that Will’s in the city on weekends doing work, and we decided to pay a visit to the conservatory. Straightforward and to the point.

“How nice,” Mom says. She gives me a squinty look, like she’s trying to sniff out the truths I’ve carefully omitted.

I just smile wide and bat my lashes. Who me? I have nothing to hide.

“Well, this is just too small a world,” she finally says, turning to Will. “I’d love to hear all about you. Get caught up on your parents. Oh, I just have to give Isla a call. She’ll be so thrilled you two met. Tell you what.” She claps her hands together and smiles wide. “Why don’t you come to family dinner?”

—

Will, of course, is too polite to say no. And he’ssopolite, he offers to drive my parents, who rode the train in, back to their house.

Which is how we end up flying down the highway, Dad in the front seat picking Will’s brain about the mechanics of his electrical truck, a turn of events that Will, given his very enthusiastic, in-depth responses, seems all too pleased with.

I fend off my mother’s periodic knee squeezes and meaningful glances up front.

Just friends, I mouth.

Mom winks and mouths back, very sarcastically,Got it.

I roll my eyes.

The drive is smooth, not too heavy on traffic, and soon we’re walking into the house, Mom bustling into the kitchen, telling us to get comfortable and pour ourselves a drink.

Dad serves Will the water he asks for, since he’ll be driving home soon, and me a glass of white, because I won’t and I need something to fortify me while I navigate this surreal spin on the evening.

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