Page 69 of Undeniable
I couldn’t argue with that. I was digging how he doted on me like I was a precious jewel.
“You’re tense,” he said, guiding me along the brick path that led to the weathered porch.
“I’m about to be grilled by my boyfriend’s mother.”
“She doesn’t bite.” His reassurance fell flat as he pressed his hand harder into my back.
The door swung open and shook me into full-on panic mode.
Priscilla Allen stood framed in the doorway in her pale-blue dress and pearl earrings, her posture perfect. “There you are.” Her honey-sweet voice had an undercurrent I couldn’t quite place. “I was beginning to worry.”
Lucas kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry, Mom. Traffic.”
Her hazel eyes flicked to mine, and I felt the weight of judgement in her gaze. “Mazzie, so lovely to finally meet the woman who stole my son’s heart.”
“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Allen,” I managed, my voice steadier than I felt.
“Please, call me Priscilla.” She ushered me inside, her hand briefly touching my arm. “I hope you like pot roast. It was always Lucas’s favorite growing up.”
The home smelled of the savory meat, suddenly making my hunger pangs come to life. “Pot roast sounds amazing.”
My mom’s idea of cooking was frozen meals or her mac and cheese out of the box. Though I made spaghetti and meatballs, which was Kaylee’s favorite, whenever I had time.
“I need to check on the roast.” Priscilla hurried to the kitchen in the far right of the open floor plan.
The layout of the interior of the house was L-shaped—family room, dining area, and an airy kitchen with white cabinets and gray-and-white countertops. The design was modest, tasteful, and inviting. Nothing fancy. Nothing expensive. Though I hadn’t expected anything as elaborate as the Armstrong mansion. After all, Mr. Allen had gambled away the family money.
Lucas pecked me on the temple. “See. Nothing to worry about.”
I begged to differ. With the pleasantries out of the way, I had no doubt the million questions would come soon enough.
I set my bag on a table in the foyer, then we joined his mom in the kitchen.
While Lucas pulled out a water pitcher from the fridge, I took a moment to look around.
A sliding glass door opened onto a deck, and beyond the inviting space were tall oak trees and a lush backyard that stretched toward the fence that surrounded it. Pulling my gaze inside, I glanced at the family photos on the wall over the fireplace—Lucas in his football uniform through the years, he and his mom in front of the Christmas tree, and other pictures of a group of people. None of the photos were of his father, which I guessed shouldn’t have surprised me.
“Your home is beautiful, Priscilla.”
She removed a large roast pan from the oven. “Thank you. It’s not much, but it’s ours. Please, have a seat at the table. We’re about ready to eat.”
“Can I help with anything?” I asked, moving toward the rectangular glass dining table, which was set with plates and silverware.
“You’re sweet, but you’re my guest,” she said.
Lucas carried the pitcher of water over to the table. “You can sit by me.” He pulled out my chair, giving me a warm smile. “I’ll be right back.”
He dashed off through an arched doorway that led to a hall.
Mrs. Allen busied herself spooning the potatoes, carrots, and meat onto a serving dish. “So, Mazzie, Lucas tells me you’re studying to be a doctor.”
“Yes, ma’am. Emergency medicine. The human body fascinates me.”
“I’m impressed.” She brought the platter of food to the table. “I also hear that you’re on track to graduate next year magma cum laude.”
I sat prim and proper. “Yes, ma’am.”
Getting through my senior year, however, was going to be harder than ever. I would have to study for MCATs, fill out medical school applications, and deal with more difficult course work. If my mom was released from jail, I might be working three jobs instead of two. I might be taking care of her again, if she reverted to her old ways.
