Page 119 of Holiday Hopefuls
Across the table, Prescott clears his throat. “I was going over the final guest list today. Looks like it’ll be quite the turnout.”
“Will you be bringing anyone, dear?” Mom asks him. It’s an innocent enough question, but everyone at the table can hear its undertone.
Except Goldie.
Prescott’s brows knit together. “Does my daughter count?” He gestures to my favorite kid sitting between Imogene and himself.
To Goldie’s credit, she peeks up at her dad with half a spaghetti noodle hanging from her mouth.
Biting the inside of my cheek does little to hide my amusement.
Mom ignores his retort, turning to Imogene expectantly. “What about you?”
“Trust me, Mom, you don’t want to meet any of the guys I work with.” Imogene makes a face depicting the horror of working with a bunch of guys who are all smart and who know it.
“Well, what about men you don’t work with?” Mom tries again.
Imogene simply blinks back at her.
Maybe Oliver was right about Imogene and John. From what he’s told me, John doesn’t sound all that interested inlookingfor someone. And based on her reaction to our mother’s inquiry, neither is Imogene.
Mom sighs and looks at her two oldest children. “You two do realize your father and I aren’t getting any younger, don’t you?”
“Especially not with the crap some of you like to pull,” my father grumbles under his breath.
Rolling my lips together, I take a deep breath as quietly as I can.
Connie squeezes my hand under the table. Shooting me a quick smile, my sister looks at our mother. “I actually went out on a date last night.”
I narrow my eyes and slide them toward my sister. Clearly, Aaron and I have some chatting to do.
Mom’s entire face brightens while surprise takes over Chris’s every feature. He looks at his twin as if blindsided. “I didn’t know you were actually going out with him,” he says. “I thought you were just considering it.”
Connie shrugs. “I did consider it. And then I followed through. It went pretty well, actually.”
“What’s his name, Constance?” Mom drops her fork and clasps her hands together. This particular brand of excitement is usually only reserved for new clothing line releases. I wonder if Mom’s personal shoppers have been notified about their competition.
“Careful,” I mutter to my sister, “or she might just start planning your wedding.”
“I heard that, Calloway.” Mom’s shrewd gaze pierces me before looking back at Connie.
Connie, on the other hand, ignores both of us. “His name is Andrew Weston. He’s a hedge fund manager in our building,” she explains.
My eyes widen and it takes every ounce of willpower to ask why on earth she isn’t dating Aaron. And whether or not he knows about this development.
I’m gonna guess not, because I sincerely doubt he would’ve been texting me aboutSpongeBob SquarePantsreruns earlier if he did.
“Is he from the area?” Mom asks.
Connie shakes her head. “He moved here after school on the east coast.”
“And you’re planning to see him again?”
“We have another date tomorrow.”
“Well,” our mom breathes, “you must bring him to the party.” I think Mom just mentally picked out Connie’s wedding dress.
Connie nods in agreement, deftly ignoring my pointed stare.
