Summer of Supernovas (27 page)

“You go first. What is it?” I sink my teeth in my lower lip to stop my own avalanche confession.

“Not now. After dinner, okay?” Seth kisses the top of my head.

“Okay,” I reply, relieved to have bought more time.

That gives me appetizers, a main course, and dessert to formulate a concrete plan. And how I’ll manage to keep any of that down with Grant seated across the table will be the greatest feat of them all.

M
rs. Walker hums while arranging the enormous white flowers in the table’s centerpiece. No mystery where Grant gets his talent for music—her voice is like honey. And with her flawless olive skin, and hair that ripples past her shoulders in a river of chocolate, it’s also easy to see where both boys inherited their good looks.

“Mom?”

She startles at Seth’s voice, plastering a hand to her silk blouse.
“Seth,”
she breathes. “I didn’t realize you were standing there.” Her wide eyes bounce immediately to me. “And, Wil, welcome! My goodness, you are every bit as lovely as Seth said you were.” Mrs. Walker rounds the perfectly set table boasting enough china and greenery to make Martha Stewart seem like an underachiever. “I have been
so
looking forward to finally meeting you.”

I shift nervously from foot to foot. “Um, thank you, Mrs. Walker. It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.” And I mean it, despite the phony smile and fraudulent circumstances that have delivered me like a Trojan horse into the Walker estate.

She envelops me in the kind of hug that makes me instantly miss my mother. I push down the surprising stab of emotion. “Oh, please, no need for formalities. Call me Charlotte.” Pulling back, she gives my shoulder a little squeeze. “I suspect we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

Accurate statement. Because if Charlotte ever finds out about my lip-lock with her eldest, she’ll probably hunt me down and mount my head on the wall. I’ll be a cautionary tale for all the future Walker girlfriends.

Seth stands proudly at my side. “Told you she’d love you,” he says quietly in my ear.

Yeah,
now.
“These are for you, Charlotte.” I hold out the irises, which she accepts with a smile.

“They’re exquisite. How very thoughtful, Wil.”

“She brought dessert, too, Mom,” Seth beams. “Chocolate cupcakes. We put them in the kitchen.”

“They’re dark-chocolate espresso cupcakes. My grandmother’s an incredible baker. I hope you like them.”

Charlotte’s golden-brown eyes light up. “Mmm, I bet they’re positively sinful.” My eyes flick down to my chest, where I half expect a large scarlet
A
to be blinking. “Why don’t you both sit down while I grab a vase for these?”

Seth gives me an encouraging nod and pulls out my chair. “Where are Dad and Grant?” he calls out as I murmur my thanks.

I can feel the rush of color to my cheeks at the mention of Grant’s name. I’ll need to do something about that—like dump the crystal carafe of ice water on my face. But at least the brothers have reached a fragile truce. Seth didn’t go into the specifics of the newfound treaty, but I wager it’ll have the shelf life of a ripened pear—several hours, tops.

Charlotte returns, placing the irises on a small corner table. “Oh, your father’s still on a conference call. Grant called and is stuck in traffic, so unfortunately, he’ll be late.” She shakes a finger at Seth. “And how did it slip your mind to mention you’d invited Wil tonight? Maybe he would’ve left a little earlier if he’d known there’d be company.”

I
highly
doubt it.

My hand begins compulsively smoothing the cloth napkin on my lap. Seth stills my fluttering by lacing his fingers in mine. “Relax,” he whispers. But the chances of that are about as remote as me Hula-Hooping the rings of Saturn.

Our attention shifts as Mr. Walker bursts into the dining room, jerking loose his tie and clapping his hands. “We did it, Charlotte! It’s finally official. The deal is done!”

She jumps to her feet. “It is?” she squeals. “Oh, Jackson, that’s fantastic!”

Seth’s dad is what Irina would refer to as a silver fox—tall, handsome, and no hint of a saggy middle-age gut. He closes the gap between him and his wife in a few long-legged strides before scooping her up in his arms. “We did it,” he repeats in elation, and kisses her.

Seth leans in. “Dad’s been working on some big merger thing. Guess it worked out.”

“Mmm, Jackson”—Charlotte gently disengages and nods in my direction—“we have a special guest tonight.”

He turns around with a fleeting look of embarrassment. “Ah, yes, of course. We have lots to celebrate, don’t we?”

“Congrats, Dad. This is my girlfriend, Wil.”

“Carlisle, correct?” his father asks. “Hard to forget a last name like that.”

It takes me a beat to recover from Seth’s use of the word “girlfriend.” “Uh, yes,” I belatedly answer.

“I’m Jackson.” He stretches across the table to shake my hand. “Pleasure, Wil.”

“Likewise,” I reply as we separate. “And congratulations on the good news.”

He smiles, revealing two snuggling front teeth—a carbon copy of Grant’s. “Well, thank you. And I must say, you’re certainly living up to your glowing reputation. I can see why my son’s so taken with you. Which leads us to the obvious question…” Jackson clears his throat and takes a seat. “Just how did Seth blackmail you into being his girlfriend?” He winks.

Seth wads up his napkin and launches it at his dad. “Very funny, old man. Just because Mom lost a bet and had to let you take her out doesn’t mean Wil did.” He pauses at my dropped jaw and chuckles. “It’s totally true. Tell her, Mom.”

Charlotte shakes her head and sets down her wine glass. “It is. And if I were a better bowler, I might’ve ended up with Keith Bronson.”

With undisguised laughter, Jackson adds, “And your children would’ve had enormous heads.”

She frowns. “Come to think of it, he did have a rather large head, didn’t he?”

Seth and his dad continue joking about heads large enough to eclipse the sun. And I try to keep up with the easy banter, I do, but with each passing minute, my breath gets harder and harder to pull from my lungs. My airway narrows, not only anticipating Grant’s arrival, but because…I really like the Walkers. Really,
really
like them. And it makes sitting at their family dinner table somehow blasphemous.

Charlotte brings a platter from the kitchen. “Crostini, Wil?”

“Thank you. They look delicious.” And I bet the fresh tomato, basil, and mozzarella on crispy bread
would
be delicious…if my stomach didn’t feel like it was in a perpetual state of free fall. I force myself to take one and pass the platter to Seth’s dad.

“So, how did you two meet?” Jackson asks, helping himself to several of the appetizers.

Seth stretches his arm across the back of my chair. “Absinthe. A combination of fate and footwear brought us together.” He grins. “Then she started talking about Egyptian deities and I was a goner.” He gives my leg a squeeze under the table.

I gulp what has become a starchy, flavorless ball of paste in my mouth, and chuckle weakly. “Yes, well, your son was nice enough to offer me his seat. And I was grateful because my shoes don’t love me nearly as much as I love them.”

“Ah, yes.” Charlotte offers a sympathetic nod. “It’s true what they say—beauty is pain.”

Seth’s hand inches higher up my leg. No, mostly this evening is pain, but I certainly can’t say that. I mumble my absolute agreement before taking another bite, and nonchalantly adjust the trajectory of Seth’s hand.

As if on cosmic cue, Grant bursts into the dining room. “Hey, sorry I’m late.”

The crostini goes sideways down my throat, triggering a violent coughing fit.

Grant dumps his messenger bag on the floor. “Accident on the highway had everything…” I sense he’s frowning at me but don’t look to confirm it.

Seth claps my back a few times. “Baby, you all right?”

My head bobs up and down like a sewing machine as I dab at my watering eyes with my napkin.

“Are you sure? Maybe you should drink some water,” Charlotte frets.

“Oh, I’m fine,” I reply hoarsely.
Pull yourself together, Wil!

Her concerned gaze veers to Grant. “Well, we’ve barely made it through the appetizers. Enough time for you to go upstairs and change, honey.”

He glances down at his ragged jeans, and pulls at his T-shirt. “What’s wrong with this?” Her expression says exactly what’s wrong with it. Grant, in response, plants a kiss on her cheek. “Guess it works out that you look stunning enough for the both of us.”

His mother softens and shakes her head. “Frightening what charming boys we’ve unleashed on the world, Jackson.” The couple goes on to quibble over whose genes were responsible.

Grant nods stiffly at Seth before acknowledging me as he sits. “Wil.” Our gazes lock for the first time.

He speaks my name, and suddenly I’m having flashes of last night. Of rolling in the dewy grass and tasting his sweet lips. How his T-shirt bunched in my hands as he cradled my head and made me forget the rest of the world existed.

I replay all of it in a matter of seconds. I grab my water glass and drink, hoping the cold will extinguish my rising temperature and the flush creeping from my neck to my face. Grant and I put down our glasses in tandem, eyes flicking toward, then even more rapidly, away from one another.

Stars above! Did Grant’s
mother
just see that? And what was she just saying? Something about leveling the male-to-female ratio in the house. There’s a pause before the corners of her mouth lift, dispelling the worry from her features. “Well, like I said, I’m sure Grant will find someone soon enough.”

“Sure, Mom,” he says flatly, taking a bite of his crostini.

The invisible noose on my neck wraps tighter.

“Dude, maybe if you sprang for a new pair of jeans, ran a comb through your hair, and covered those tats, you’d quit scaring the girls away.”

Scowling, Grant replies, “And if I wanted your lame advice, I’d be asking for it.”

And it’s funny. All the things Seth’s listed are things I’ve come to love about Grant. Oh my God!
Love?
Did I just use the word “love” in my head? Color bombards my cheeks, and my heart gallops like a herd of wild horses set free.

Seth opens his mouth in argument.

“Boys.” The warning in Jackson’s tone is clear. “Whatever’s had you at odds the past few weeks can be set aside for one night. Got it?” His chair scrapes the floor as he rises to collect the appetizer plates.

Charlotte absently twirls a spring of parsley while watching me.

This is too much. “Uh, if—if you’ll excuse me…” I push away from the table, clearing my throat. “I’m sorry, where is the bathroom again?”

“Second door on the right,” Charlotte answers, concern scrawled over her face.

Seth scoots back and starts to rise. “I’ll show you.”

I place a hand at his shoulder. “No, please…I’ll find it.”

Once I’m in the safety of the bathroom, I suck in a huge breath.

Whatever I do, panicking is
not
an option. Also under the nonoption umbrella: replaying my garden tryst with Grant. It was an accident. A mistake.

Why do I want to do it again?

Oh. God.

I brace my palms on the cool granite countertop. The face in the mirror is undeniably flushed and her lips faintly puffy. How does one go from celibacy to kissing every Walker in the damn east-side directory?
How does that happen?!

Exasperated, I take out my compact and dust powder on my nose and cheeks. It mutes the flush, but not the jarring realization.

Owning up to last night isn’t enough to right this wrong.

I have to break up with Seth.

Tonight.

I push the penne and artichokes around with one of my twelve forks. Unfortunately, I don’t believe any of these knives possess a blade sharp enough to cut the tension. Grant hasn’t spoken or made eye contact with me since I returned to the table. And then there was that moment when I was recrossing my legs and my foot inadvertently bumped against him. Grant’s knee banged the underside of the table with so much force it spilled several of the water glasses.