Page 77 of Next in Line
Mom is not letting this go, and it’s killing me because I know that my truest fear is going to hurt her. With a quiet voice, I reply, “I’m not good enough for her, Mom. What if I’m like Dad?”
“Samuel Michael O’Connor!” she exclaims, her voice high and ragged just like it was when I got into trouble as a kid. “I never raised my hand to you during your entire misspent youth, but I swear to God, my palm is itching right now with how badly I want to slap you.”
“Mom, jeez!” I exclaim, holding my hand up in defense.
“You are nothing like your father, you hear me?” she hisses, reaching out and shoving me to accentuate her point. “You are kind and good and giving. You take care of this whole family. You always have…even when you were a little terror at sixteen, you still got up early and shoveled the driveway. Your father never did a thing around here. Not even for you kids. The only decent thing he ever did was teach you how to ice fish, and you even have a hang-up over that because you think you have to do it alone to hold on to the one good memory he left you with.”
My eyes begin to burn from her words because damnit, they are true. For years, I’ve gone ice fishing on my own because I didn’t want to lessen the one decent memory I have of my father, who, let’s face it, is deceased in my family’s eyes. I worried that if I brought someone else with me out on the ice, new memories would outshine the old.
Then I met Maggie and, suddenly, without any concrete or tangible reason, I opened myself up to create a new memory.
My mom reaches out and pulls me into a hug that’s so tight, I feel the entire weight of her on my neck. “If you found someone you were willing to take ice fishing, then you need to stop bitchin’ and start fishin’.” A broad smile spreads across my face as she releases me with a smile of her own. “Don’t let this girl be the one who got away.”
Men And Fish Are Alike… They Both Get Into Trouble When They Open Their Mouths.
Not enough Chardonnay exists in Boulder to get me through this dinner. And sadly, we are at a Mexican restaurant, so wine isn’t even an option here. On the entire ride to the restaurant, I mentally flip out at the fact Sterling is here in Boulder. This is like all my romance novel fantasies come to life. The hero shows up on the doorstep of the heroine’s house after traveling through a plethora of natural disasters to tell the love of his life that he needs her back, and he’s been a fool, and he wants to marry her and have a million babies and goats.
Well, maybe not the goats.
But that’s the dream, right? Yet the entire time at dinner, something feels off. Looking at Sterling’s face doesn’t bring me the same flutters in my stomach it did only weeks ago. Is my heart just still that broken?
Even my brother seems to be struggling to connect to the person I’ve fantasized about marrying at least fifty different times.
“So Sterling,” Miles says, setting down his Corona and leaning across the table at the Mexican restaurant, “how’s it feel to know that in just a few months, your entire world is going to change?”
Sterling frowns and sits back, draping an arm across the back of my chair. “Pretty crazy.”
Miles blinks, waiting for Sterling to elaborate, but when he realizes he’s not going to, he adds, “What team are you hoping for?”
“Not the Broncos,” he huffs and takes a drink of his margarita. “I did a training camp here, and the elevation was brutal. And how do you guys handle all this snow all the time? I can’t stand it.”
My brother’s face falls as if Sterling just kicked his favorite puppy. “Well…you get used to it.”
“Better you than me,” Sterling huffs.
Kate’s eyes find mine as she sips her drink, and she offers me a sympathetic smile. I offer one back. I’m still mad at her about Friday night, but she’s the only one who truly understands the position I’m in right now, and I need her support.
My brother continues to try his hardest to make small talk when suddenly Sterling’s hand slips under the table and grabs my thigh firmly. Something about the way his fingers inch slowly up my tights has me reaching down and squeezing his hand in silent warning. He looks over at me with narrowed eyes while my brother continues to ramble on about the wonders of Colorado and the seasonal changes.
When Sterling’s hand touches the hem of my plaid skirt, I lean in and hiss, “Stop.”
He half smiles at me, his eyes slightly hooded. “Why?”
“Because we’re here with my brother,” I grind out and then smile politely at Miles as he asks Kate about the name of some hiking spot they found this past summer.
Sterling harrumphs and yanks his hand away from my leg, visibly annoyed. I lean down and take a large gulp of my very strong margarita. Sterling has always had a thing for public displays of affection, and once upon a time, I enjoyed them with him. What’s changed?
“Mind if I join you?” a familiar says from behind me, and I spew part of my drink out all over Sterling’s lap.
“Jesus Christ,” Sterling says, pushing back away from the table and wiping at his lap where most of my beverage landed. “What the hell, Maggie?”
Ignoring Sterling’s fit, I turn around to find Sam standing only a foot away from me, watching the entire scene with great amusement. My eyes fall down his body to see that he’s dressed in another one of his hot button-downs, green this time to match his eyes, and a pair of perfectly fitted jeans. He looks at me, and his eyes flash down to my tights and widen ever so slightly before he slaps on a strained smile.
“You okay there, sparky?” Sam asks, leaning in to gently pat me on the back.
Miles chuckles from across the table. “Hey man, what’s up?”
Sam smiles over at my brother. “Well, I got your text and then decided I was in the mood for tacos anyway, so I figured I’d stop in and see if I could join you. That is if you guys don’t mind a fifth wheel.”
