Page 112 of Soul Mates: Hercules Valentine and I
Hercules sighs tiredly before letting go of my hand to answer the call.
“Mother, what can I do for you?”
She’s silent for a beat. “How are you?”
He readjusts out of the stiff posture he was in. “I’m fine. Is there an emergency?”
“No.”
“Then why are you calling this late?
“What’s going on with you?” she insists.
I’m staring at him, and he winks at me.
“Nothing. It’s late, that’s all. What can I do for you?”
“Are you alone?”
“Mother, how about I call you in the morning?”
“You’re not alone, then?”
Hercules rubs the back of his neck as he stretches it from side to side.
The silence between them lingers long enough to even make me feel awkward.
“What time are you planning on arriving tomorrow evening? There are people I want you to meet.”
He looks more confused. “Tomorrow evening?”
“Yes, darling. You don’t remember my party?”
He closes his eyes for a second to sigh contritely. “Right. Yes, tomorrow night. Of course I’m coming,” he says with an earnest scowl. “You know I wouldn’t miss your birthday party.”
“Are you bringing a plus-one?” she asks.
He glances at me, and I try not to look terrified at the thought of meeting his mother. Going to the party with him would be a mistake. His mother’s birthday party would be the worst place to be recognized as Paisley Grove.
“It depends,” he says.
I balance getting an eyeful of Hercules’s neighborhood and listening to every word spoken between mother and son. He lives on Billionaires’ Row, a few blocks away from Central Park.
“Depends on what?” she asks as he makes a right turn into the entrance of the parking garage of a building so tall clouds hover around its peak.
I clutch the handle as he speeds through the tight space.
“On whether you’re trying to set me up,” he says.
“We've tried that before, haven't we?”
Hercules sighs impatiently. I reflect on when I saw his ex-fiancée’s name on his cellphone after we had sex that day in Boston.If only I could accompany him to that party. But I can’t.
“Mother, it’s late. I’ll see you tomorrow. And if you try setting me up, I’m leaving.”
“Duly noted.”
“I mean it.”
