Page 66 of Whiskey & Honey
I look from my mother to Ben and back. When I don’t respond, Ben stops drying his hair to look at me and sees the horrified look on my face.
“Hello there, I’m Tessa Lawrence. Piper’s mother.” As she extends her hand to him as if she’s the freaking Queen of England, Ben only stares open-mouthed as he looks from my mother to me and back.
“Hello, Tessa. I guess you don’t recognize me,” Ben says as he takes my mother’s hand, and instead of kissing her knuckles or whatever she wanted, he pulls her into a hug. I find a smidge of humor in the look of horror on my mother’s face as my half-dressed boy … err, friend, hugs her.
“Mama, you remember Bentley Sullivan, don’t you?”
“Oh, I, uh. Well, hello, Bentley. This is a surprise. I didn’t realize you two were together.”
“We are.”
“We’re not.”
We respond simultaneously. I shoot a death glare at Ben as he laughs.
“As you can see, Tessa, we aren’t exactly on the same page with regard to our relationship.” Ben walks toward me and kisses me on the cheek. “I’m going to get out of here and let you catch up a bit before work.”
I nod in response as he excuses himself.
“I’ll be right back.”
I leave my mother in the kitchen as I follow Ben down the hall. He’s tying his shoes when I walk in my room.
“You don’t have to leave, Ben.”
“I know, but you should talk to your mom. I have a feeling she’s going to have a lot to say about the fact that I’m not Dominguez.”
Ben’s trying to sound nonchalant about this, but the way he says Dominguez indicates otherwise.
“You heard her.” He nods in response. “I’m sorry. You heard me too, right?” Another nod. “Are you mad? You know my mom, she’s very one track.” Standing and walking toward me, he pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around me like we’re dancing.
“No, I’m not mad. I am actually glad she’s here. I feel like you need someone to talk to about this and help you work through your feelings. I don’t think I would have necessarily chosen someone that wants you to be with Dominguez for the job, but at least it’s someone. You have a little less than an hour before you have to leave, spend it with your mom. I’ll see you at work, okay?”
“Okay,” I reply, pulling him a little closer to me. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to have breakfast; it’s kind of my favorite part of the day.”
“Me too, but I think I like the nights best,” he says as he pulls me flush to him and I feel his heart beat. Placing a kiss on my lips, I long for him to deepen it, but instead he pulls back. “Go spend some time with your mom and tell her how amazing I am. Don’t forget, we can still run away next week.”
“We are not running away next week. It’s Thanksgiving and your mom deserves to have you and Ashton at her table this year.”
After a few kisses I return to the kitchen and start cooking the eggs I had whipped. Ben stops to say goodbye to my mom before he leaves. The moment the door closes my mom speaks.
“How long have you been seeing Bentley Sullivan, Piper?”
Wow, she’s going to just jump right into things.
“He goes by Ben now and we aren’t seeing each other; we’re friends.”
“Really? My friends sleep over and don’t walk around my house half naked.”
“Fine. A few weeks, I guess. I don’t know. It just happened.”
Silence fills my tiny kitchenette as I scoop the eggs onto two plates and put a few slices of fruit on each plate. I set a plate in front of my mom and refill both of our cups with coffee before taking my seat at the table. This is how it is with my mom. She’s waiting for me to continue. She knows my mind is spinning.
Like a levy breaking in a flood, I dump it all on her. I tell her about Tony and how I felt after I found the online dating profile. The first kiss with Ben, the developing friendship, the talk at the lake, and I told her about the house. As I talked I never looked at her. I stared off at the clock on the stove, never seeing the numbers. My story ends with me telling her that Ben wants to take me away next week to show me what our relationship could be if we weren’t spending all of our time in secret. When I finish I finally look at my mother. I expect her to be bored or annoyed, her usual reaction to things. Instead, one hand is to her chest over her heart and the other is covering her mouth as tears pour out of her eyes.
“Mama, why are you crying?” I ask, handing her a napkin.
“Oh honey, you’re in love. True blue love. He’s the one. It’s always been him, hasn’t it? The man in your dreams. I thought you were just creative and an excellent storyteller but you were actually seeing your future.”