Page 54 of Holiday Hopefuls
“Why?” is the curt response I receive.
Shrugging, I look at the empty seat next to him. “Because she’s not here tonight and, I mean, with the holiday coming up and being in a single parent household … "
“She’s at dance class.”
“But she’s doing okay other than that?”
Prescott sighs. “She’s fine, Calloway.”
“Really? Because it’s not unusual for kids in single parent households to feel heightened emotional challenges that may not always be present the rest of the year.” I take a big gulp of my water while my brother looks ready to be sick. “Loss, stress and increased emotional strain can be pretty common.”
Down the table, Chris snorts. “Where’d you get that? Dr. Hotness?”
Glaring at my self-declared arch nemesis, I count to three. Extra slowly. “No,” I say carefully, “believe it or not, I do know some things about children. Since, you know, I work with them every day and all.”
While Mom’s attention can have the tendency to drift off during conversations that don’t interest her—like ones involving the mundane parts of her kids’ lives—the mention of Oliver brings her back to life. “Where is Oliver tonight, dear?”
Blinking at my mother, it’s all I can do to remain seated.You’re not found out, you’re not found out.“W-why?” If Connie ever tried to ingest some helium, this is about what she’d sound like. Clearing my throat, I try again, ignoring the strange looks I’m receiving from every person at the table. “I mean, why do you ask?”
Mom pushes back her plate, signaling to the staff that we’re done. “He may have given me some things to consider—oh, I got hot cocoa delivered from the store today. But you looked sotogethera few weeks ago, and I haven’t heard you mention him even once tonight. I’m surprised you’re out of each other’s sight.” She sends a sly grin down the table to Dad.
Gross.
That exact look is probably why I’m even here today.
“Reminds me of when we were young and in love,” Mom continues. Man, I guess we did a better job than I realized.
“It’s called taking a breather. Some space.” But I’m certainly not about to admit how much I’ve missed having an excuse to talk to him in the nearly three weeks since Thanksgiving.
Not that I’ve heard from him, either.
“Good,” Chris says, tossing his napkin onto the table, “that guy gave me the creeps.”
“Rude,” Connie chides. Turning to me, her sweetest smile graces those soft features. “I think he was lovely, Calloway.”
Heat floods my face. “Oh, um, thanks,” I mumble.
Across the table, Prescott leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Genny, what did you think about Dr. Streets?”
“Rhodes,” I bite out.
Prescott dismisses me with a wave.
Beside him, Imogene shrugs. “I dunno, I thought he was nice enough.” A grin slides onto her face as she looks at Chris. “I know you didn’t like him because he’s in the doctorate club. Isn’t that right?”
Chris rolls annoyed eyes as he flips her off.
“Christopher Irving Rutherford, absolutely not.” Dad thunders, even as a smirk threatens to break through. “Especially not at the table.”
Turning to my brother, I smile as sweetly as possible. “And to think, there may be some poor woman out there who will love you the way Oliver loves me.”The fake way.“When you do find her, I’ll be sure to send her my condolences.” I can practically see his middle finger twitching, begging for sweet release. Letting out the biggest fake yawn I can conjure, I push back from the table. “Well, I hate to break up the party, but I have a big week.”
“Taking your kids to Munchkinland?” Chris sneers.
“Yep,” I reply, not missing a beat, “but before that, we have our holiday program the day after tomorrow. So I’m gonna head home. There are a couple of reindeer costumes that need hemming.”
“Calloway,” Connie peeks up at me as I stand, “would you mind giving me a ride home?”
Confusion casts a heavy light over both Chris and myself. We even make awkward eye contact to confirm it.
