Page 26 of Bewitched By the Siren
“Did I forget to tell you?” I ask with a falsely serene smile.
“Forgot onpurpose, I’d bet,” she says, narrowing her eyes and making me laugh.
“Seriously, Mom,” I say, sobering. “I did forget. He asked yesterday, and I was so consumed with going for a swim, it slipped my mind.”
“Well, I can’t wait to meet him,” she says, her expression turning giddy.
“He’s just being neighborly,” I warn her.
“Yeah. Sure. Just friends.”
“Mom,” I say, dropping my voice an octave.
“I’ll behave. I promise. Let an old woman be excited to get out of bed and have some company.”
That last bit sends shame spiraling through me. She is stuck in bed a lot. She rarely leaves the house, and we never have company over.
“None of that now,” she says, interpreting my sudden change in mood. “I’m very happy, and you take really great care of me. I’m just excited to meet your new friend, is all.”
“Okay,” I say with a nod. “But if you ever want to do anything or go anywhere, you know all you have to do is ask, right? Ask, and I’ll make it happen.”
“Of course, I do. Now, go before he thinks you’re not coming and leaves without you.”
“Love you, Mom,” I say, and she replies in kind as I hurry down the hall to my own room.
I make short work of changing into a pair of jeans and a lightweight sweater that’s cropped short enough to show a sliver of skin at my waist. After pulling on a pair of socks and shoes, I rush into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Wetting my hands, I pull my long, tangled tresses into a messy topknot and secure it with an elastic hair tie.
Calling out a good bye to Mom as I pass her bedroom, I rush back to the kitchen to grab my phone. It has a wallet case withmy driver’s license and a credit card inside, so I don’t really need anything else. Then I speed-walk to the door and swing it open to find Brendan perched on the top step of the porch.
He turns to see me, then smiles and pushes to his feet. “Are you ready?”
“I am,” I say, and he leads the way to his rental car, stopping on the passenger’s side to open the door for me.
I thank him as I slide in, and watch him as he closes the door and jogs around the hood to the driver’s side. Why does this suddenly feel more like a date than a trip to the grocery store?
No. Stop it, Hali. You’re being ridiculous. The last thing you want is for this to be a date.
Mom’s words flash through my mind, encouraging me to open myself up and see where this might go. That Brendan’s impermanence on Circe Key is the perfect opportunity to allow myself to have some fun.
“You okay?”
Brendan’s question snaps me out of my thoughts. “What? I mean, yes. I’m fine. Just zoned out there for a minute.”
He returns his gaze to road, but I can see his eyebrow twitching like he’s tempted to push, to get me to tell him what I was thinking. Then his expression smooths out and the corner of his mouth lifts the tiniest bit.
“So,” he says, “I searched ‘shrimp and grits’ on the internet last night. It definitely looks…interesting.”
“Hey, don’t knock it until you try it, buddy,” I say, nudging his arm with my elbow over the center console.
“I’m not knocking it,” he says quickly, then presses a palm to his chest. “I bow to your expertise.”
And just like that, the tension I was feeling dissipates, and I relax back into my seat just as he pulls the car into the store’s parking lot. I climb out as soon as he pulls into a spot, not givinghim time to come around and open my door––if that’s what he was planning. I don’t want things to get weird again.
Brendan falls into step beside me as we head inside, and I wait as he grabs a buggy from the corral and wheels it back over to me. We head for the meat department, discussing possible meal choices and ultimately deciding on lasagna.
I have to admit, I’m thoroughly impressed the man can make the dish from scratch. Other than the occasional night out at the Italian restaurant downtown, I’ve only ever had the kind that comes frozen in a box.
“Here, put this in the buggy,” I say, holding out a box of freshly grated parmesan.
