Page 62 of One Moment Please
So I deleted the app on my phone and told him that I had no intentions of dating until well after the baby was born. Sadly, he didn’t seem to care anymore because Dr. Dick was officially back on call.
Which is why I’m doing this. His attitude lately was all the confirmation I needed. He wasn’t in any rush to tell his parents, and since I’m twenty weeks pregnant and well on my way to maternity clothes, Kate’s crazy plan of telling both sets of parents at the same time is happening.
Rip it off like a Band-Aid.
And hope Josh’s more sane parents protect me from my crazy ones.
The coup was easier to accomplish than I’d thought. All I had to do was sneak into Josh’s room while he was sleeping, text his mom an invite for dinner, and delete the text thread once she confirmed. Josh has no clue and, because of his tardiness, he’s going to be completely and totally blindsided when he shows up to thisSurprise, I’m Knocked Up From a One-Night-Stand Dinner Party.
The doorbell rings, and I freeze, my eyes flying to the clock. They’re twenty minutes early! What kind of monsters show up to a dinner party twenty minutes early? I quickly fluff my hair, hoping my curls didn’t completely fall after working in the kitchen for the past two hours. Why I decided to try a new recipe tonight of all nights, I’ll never know. I slip on my black heels and clunk my way toward the front door. When I open it, I inwardly cringe when I find it’s not my parents on the other side.
“Hiiii,” I squeal, a bit too enthusiastically. “You must be Josh’s parents—Harvey and Lana?”
“Oh, are you the caterer who makes those great crab cakes?” Josh’s mom asks, glancing at the apron I’d forgotten I’m still wearing.
She steps inside, and Josh’s dad barrels in behind her, mumbling about traffic while removing his hat and gloves. When their backs are turned, I fling the offensive apron off and smooth my demure black dress with a square neckline that I thought looked nice and classy. I touch the pearls that my grandmother left me around my neck and shoot a silent prayer up to Gran for strength tonight.
Lana turns and glances at herself in the hallway mirror, quickly smoothing her silver bob of hair.
I take the moment to respond to her earlier question. “Um, I’ve actually never made crab cakes. I don’t really care for seafood.”
“What kind of caterer doesn’t care for seafood?” she exclaims with a haughty laugh.
“The kind who dies if she accidentally consumes shellfish.” I force an awkward laugh.
“Oh,” she replies and looks me up and down. “You’re very pretty for a chef. And skinny. You don’t see that combination a lot.”
I flush from her compliments. “Thank you but I’m not really—”
“What in God’s name happened in there?” Josh’s dad gapes at the living room like it’s some sort of science project that exploded. He’s a tall, domineering man, very similar to his son. “Did Josh seriously mount a TV on an original 1930s stone wall? What the hell is the matter with that boy?”
He stomps over to inspect the work. I cringe. I didn’t even consider that the stone wall was special. I thought a living room needed a TV. I’m like Joey fromFriends—I don’t understand where to situate furniture unless it’s all pointed toward a TV. And since one whole wall is floor-to-ceiling windows…the pickings were kind of slim.
“I’m afraid I can’t answer any questions about the stonework, but why don’t you both have a glass of wine and head out to the deck?” I gesture over to the counter where I have prefilled glasses. “It’s a beautiful night, and the fireplace is lit. There’s charcuterie out there.”
Lana’s brows lift appreciatively as she saunters to the counter. She winks at me. “You’re good.”
I force a smile. “Josh should be home any moment now.” My face falls at how stupid and robotic my voice sounds. They’re going to think I’m a nut job.
“Any moment means any hour with our Joshy. He focuses on one thing and one thing only—his job,” his mother huffs and grabs two glasses of red wine off the counter. “But if there’s wine, we’re fine.” She makes her way to the living room. “Stop fretting over the stonework and come have a drink, Harv.”
I let out a heavy breath and ignore his grumbles as I run to the oven to check my food. The chicken looks good. It needs another ten minutes, and then I can take it out and tent it so it’s nice and moist.
Suddenly, the doorbell rings again. I cringe. It must be my parents, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep this charade up without Josh.
I open the door. My mother’s red hair glistens beneath the stoop light as her eyes immediately fall to my belly. “Oh, Lynsey.” She shakes her head. “You’re not eating Oreos again, are you?”
I bite my tongue and welcome them inside. My mother makes her way around the space and scopes out every last detail like a nosy Nellie. “If you can afford this kind of place with your new job, then why can’t you afford some new furniture?”
I force a tight smile. “I’ll explain all that to you over dinner, Mom.”
My dad gives me a quick hug before heading into the kitchen to inspect the appliances. He then ends toward the living room and points at the wall. “Is that original stone?”
I press my lips together. “I believe so.”
What the hell is with the original stonework that is so special?
His head jerks back. “I hope the previous owner was the moron who put a TV mount on there and not you. Otherwise, your landlord is going to go berserk.”
