Page 35 of Wreck Me

“Oh, I do? Yes, I suppose I would.” His mother’s reply held mild surprise, followed by confusion.

“You and your sister Celia raised two good boys,” Ginny said.

Part of Nico wanted to keep eavesdropping, but he knew even this amount of clarity was likely fleeting. He couldn’t lose thismoment. Heart pounding from hope, he stepped into the frame of the kitchen doorway. He felt like an actor entering from stage right, desperate for a standing ovation.

He didn't get one, but he at least got a smile. “Oh, here is that nice young man who brought me here.”

He glanced at Ginny, who gazed up at him warmly. The sight of both those lovely smiles aimed in his direction jostled something loose in Nico. He hadn’t realized how similar their faces were in some ways—heart-shaped with high cheekbones and wide mouths. They both had green eyes, too. His heart took a double beat as his stomach did a little twist.

His mother continued. “There I was reading my Saturday paper, like I always do, and I look up, and…” She gave Ginny the smile she usually reserved for chocolate cake. “…there’s this pretty lady. What’s your name again, dear?”

His mother didn’t seem to recognize him, but perhaps she recognized the house? She had always read the newspaper in that exact spot.

A light blush fell over Ginny’s freckled cheeks. “Ginny.”

“Ginny. Yes. How cute. How old fashioned—like a Ginny Lind bed. My name is Claire Vitale.” Out of nowhere, she smacked the table as she raised an accusatory eyebrow at Nico. “Young man, stop standing there in the doorway like a drug store dummy. Come sit down next to Ginny.”

Nico scooted in next to Ginny on the bench seat, who made more room for him than he needed. A generous foot of air remained between them.

His mother was not satisfied. “Oh, now, stop being shy. You’re cucumbers and vinegar now, but I can tell you two are next year’s crunchy pickles. Here, I’ll do the marriage test. It’s a family tradition.”

Ginny’s eyes widened. “Themarriagetest?”

Ginny looked at Nico, but he was as clueless as Ginny about this. If itwasa family tradition, it was some other family. What in the world did his mother think she was remembering?

His mother nodded at Ginny, one eye half-closed in a serious manner. “Yes. It’s foolproof. There’s three parts.” She held up a finger. “First, put your hands on the table.”

Ginny dutifully put her hands out, palms up. “Oh, do you do palm readings?”

His mother scrunched her face like she’d just tasted rancid milk. “Palm reading is hogwash. I read thetopsof hands.” She looked at Nico. “Go on. You too.”

Once their four hands were flat on the table, she leaned forward, ooh’ing and ah’ing as she examined them. “That’s pretty good, pretty good. A good start.” She sat back against the booth. “Okay, now sit back-to-back.”

He and Ginny gave each other a ‘what-the-heck’ shrug, then spun in their seats until their backs just barely touched.

His mother tsk’d. “No, no. You have to pressin.” She made a smushing motion with her hands. “Come on. I don't have all day for this. I’m old.”

Ginny scooted in reverse toward him, and he did the same. He felt the slight of her against him, the shape of her slim shoulders enveloped by his broad back. The curve of her head pressed the tender spot just between his shoulder blades.

“How’s this?” Ginny asked his mother, barely suppressing a giggle.

His mother tilted her head this way and that as if she were Sherlock Holmes examining a crime scene. Nico was increasingly certain this was no Vitale family tradition.

Finally, she announced, “Yes, I see it. I see it. It’s good. You’re almost marriage material. Okay, now, the final part is, you touch nose-to-nose.”

Nico felt Ginny stiffen against him—or was he the one whose trapezius muscles had twitched at the prospect of being face-to-face with her again? He expected her to suddenly need to use the bathroom or make a phone call, but when he began to turn toward her, she was doing the same. The lightly pinked cheeks he’d noticed earlier now blushed so deep some of her freckles were disappearing.

Did she want to do this? Did he? Why did he feel like he was ten years old and playing spin-the-bottle…with his mother watching!

But he didn’t want to break whatever spell his mother was under and, apparently, neither did Ginny. Their faces moved closer. Nico scrunched himself down as he saw her crane her neck upward. They were inches apart now, moving in what felt like slow motion. Her breath smelled sweet, and he could see every gold fleck in her stunning green eyes. She blinked her thick lashes and, for a second, his brain muddled. What was it again they were supposed to be doing? Were they about to kiss?

Ginny must have been afraid of that very thing because, at the last second, she repositioned her face. Reflexively, he did the same, with the result that his nose bumped her cheek.

Ginny fell back, giggling and rubbing her skin, and Nico felt his own cheeks redden.

Nico’s mother let out a triumphant cackle. “You should see your faces!”

“You didn’t tell me your mother is a prankster,” Ginny said. “She just played a trick on us!”

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