The Wilson Mooney Box Set

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The Wilson Mooney Box Set Page 18

by Gretchen de La O


  He didn’t say a word. He just held me until I was comfortable enough to pull away. It wasn’t about sex or guilt. It was his understanding of how to treat a woman, when she just needed to be held. It was him being sensitive and concerned about me.

  “Wilson, I think we should change your bandage.” He pressed his fingers to the edges of the tape. “It’s soaked.”

  “Okay, thank you.” As he pulled the bandage from my temple, his eyes reflected less concern.

  “How bad is it?” I asked, pushing my hand to the edge of my eyebrow.

  “It’s not bad at all. Smaller than I thought it was going to be. I don’t even think you’re gonna need a Band-Aid.”

  “Oh good,” I said, relieved. The last thing I wanted to do was go meet his parents with a ghastly bandage taped across my head.

  “You ready to go?” he asked low.

  “Yeah, I am.” I walked to the sink and washed my hands.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” he said as his hand reached into his pocket.

  “What?”

  “This—I found it on your dresser, thought you’d want to wear it tonight,” he answered as he held the key and heart necklace up in the air. He pulled it across my neck and fastened it. He pressed his hands down across my shoulders onto my forearms.

  “It’s beautiful, Max. Thank you,” I whispered.

  “You’re welcome.” He kissed the top of my head. “Something to keep me close to your heart.”

  It’ll be the perfect symbol of him when we get back to Wesley. Even though, I didn’t need a necklace to remind me to whom my heart belonged.

  He held out his elbow and I wove my arm through his. He walked me through the hall, down the steps, and out to his car. My other hand pressed my new necklace against my chest.

  Yeah, it was something that definitely kept him close to my heart.

  I loved that he held the car door open for me and made sure my seatbelt was on before he shut me in. The drive to his cabin was comforting. He reached over to me and held my hand. His fingers were warm against mine.

  “You should know something about me,” he said after a moment. My heart dropped into my stomach. I knew this was going to be too good to be true.

  “Yeah, what’s that?” The words clung to my throat. God please don’t let him tell me something that would break my heart.

  “Well it’s not really something about me; it’s more about my family.” He glanced over. My heart started to rise back to where it belonged.

  “Okay—,” I sang to him. I don’t know why he took so long to tell me. Maybe it was something he was embarrassed about.

  “I’ve never taken anyone to my family’s cabin before—to meet my parents.” He looked forward as he turned. The muscles in his neck bounced as he swallowed hard.

  “Nobody?” I asked. I felt my lips pull into a slight smile.

  “No, not a woman.” He looked at me, his face tensed. “You’re the first.” He looked so vulnerable. Reality check, he called me a woman. It clicked for me, and I understood instantly: I wasn’t a girl anymore.

  “You, Max Goldstein? Not one girl?” I wrapped my hand over his and pulled it to my face.

  “No, not one. No one was ever worth it before,” he said looking straight ahead.

  Did he even know what he was saying to me? If I could press heavy against and melt into him I would do it. Did he know that he made the butterflies and tingling parts of my body completely dedicated to him? Invade me with words, I’m here.

  “Well, I’m honored. Thank you, Max. That means so much to me.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. He peeked at me. The muscles in his jawline flexed.

  I could tell he was entering an uncharted area of his life. As handsome and worldly as he was, it was hard to believe he’d never brought a girl home to his parents before. Was he that private? What did that mean about me? I felt a bubble of spastic energy spin up into my throat. I’m the ‘one’ he brings home to mom.

  “What if she doesn’t like me?” I mumbled as my eyes focused on the glove box handle in front of me. I didn’t want to look at him.

  The car swayed to the right and rolled to a stop. He cleared his throat. I felt his eyes burn into my skin. He tickled the side of my face with his fingers as he pulled my hair away.

  “How could she not? Wilson, she’ll love you. She’ll see exactly why I wanted to bring you home with me.” He leaned over and kissed me softly.

  “Yeah, but what if Calvin said something about us to her?”

  He took a deep breath. “He would never do that to me. He’s known about you for some time; I’m sure we’ll talk later.”

  “What do you mean ‘some time?’

  “Well, he knew I was interested in someone at Wesley; but he didn’t know the exact details.”

  “Oh.” Wait, he’s been interested long enough to talk to his brother about me?

  “Okay, so are you ready?”

  This was it. My heart throbbed fast in my chest. I was going to meet his parents.

  He pulled my door open and helped me out. His arm circled around my waist where his hand had now memorized the space on my hip. He pressed his lips to my temple as he shut the door.

  “You’re so tense. Relax, there’s nothing to worry about.” He laughed against my hair. “Their bark is worse than their bite.”

  Simple for him to say, he wasn’t the one in the hot seat. With me, he was getting off easy. The only family he had to face was my best friend, Joanie. And I do have to admit, she was very protective of me and could be a real pistol. She was also the only family I had.

  I noticed a couple of cars parked in the driveway and none of them were the black Toyota Sequoia Nick had driven. Max directed me up the steps of the porch. He pulled open the front door and pressed against me to enter. I stopped breathing. When I was here earlier, we’d come through the garage; I never saw the entry―it was amazing.

  The stone that greeted us on the porch continued past the door. Splashes of warm sunflower yellow wrapped the walls. A heavy but intricately delicate black iron chandelier hung centered from the ceiling. Its cascading arms held antique white candles and created shadows on the walls that flickered and danced. They looked so real. Rustic wooden loveseats stressed with stories to tell hugged a colossal armoire that matched.

  Max pulled my jacket off and hung it in the closet behind the front door. I took off my boots and handed them to him. He just smiled as he pulled off his boots, too.

  He shut the closet and, dragging his hand down my arm, he grabbed my damp hand. His eyebrows tightened around his eyes.

  “Don’t be scared. It’s okay, they’ll love you.” He pulled me to his body, wrapped his arms around me and kissed me, determined to change my mood. It worked.

  Voices filled the house as Max pulled me to the great room. His stride was fast; I slowed my pace pulling back on him. He stopped and turned to me, locking his eyes on mine. Without words, he reassured me. We turned the corner to the dining room and my heart leaped into my throat. His mom saw us and stood up.

  “Oh Maxi, you made it.” She came over to him and kissed his cheek. The room went silent as she stepped back to see me. Her eyes revealed her warmth. Her velvety brown hair wrapped picture perfect around her face. Max had her smile.

  “Mom, this is Wilson. Wilson this is my mom, Nancy.” He stepped behind me, keeping his hands secure around my waist and his chest against my back.

  “Wilson, welcome to our home, it’s my pleasure.” She grasped my upper arms and pulled me to hug her. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her; she was so soft and smelled like a bouquet of spring flowers. All the fear I had was washed away in her embrace. She was genuine, and I craved that.

  “Mom,” Max mumbled. She let go of me first but kept her hand around my back.

  “Wilson, this is my dad, Frank,” Max continued. I waved to him.

  “Nice to meet you, Wilson.” He stood up, came over, and took my hand.

  “Thank you for having me,”
I was barely able to speak. I was overwhelmed with their warmth. I felt Max tighten around my waist.

  “My sister, Camille.” He held his hand out to her.

  “Nice to meet you, Wilson. This is my husband, Dan.” She pushed the back of her hand to the chest of the man next to her.

  “Hi,” I said as I looked at them and gave a slight wave.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Vaughn,” Max introduced me to the other dinner guests. Mr. Vaughn stood up and nodded, his wife only smiled.

  “This is our daughter, Emily.” Mrs. Vaughn pointed across the table. My eyes caught her and I lost my breath. It was the same girl who’d been with Max today at the ski resort. She was even more striking than before. Her crystal blue eyes danced, her perfectly smooth complexion radiated, and she oozed a self-confidence she had to have been born with.

  “Nice to meet you.” Her eyes met mine for a moment and then looked right through me to Max. She smiled.

  “Hi Max.” Her head tilted and a sparkle appeared in her eyes.

  “Hey, Em,” he said to her. A familiar comfort bounced between them, something I wasn’t prepared for. He slid his hands from my waist up to my shoulders.

  “Oh, I wish you had gotten here just a bit earlier. You could have met Calvin.” Nancy broke the triangle between us.

  “Mom, she already knows Calvin. They met yesterday,” Max told her.

  “Oh, good. Well, come and sit, join us, we are just about to have dessert. Did you eat already?” She stood behind her chair holding the back.

  “We had a small taste of something.” He told her, pulling out my chair. “Wilson might be hungry still.” He smiled at me.

  “No, thank you. I’m fine, really.” He sat next to me and grabbed my hand under the table.

  “Well then, berry cobbler it is.” She left to the kitchen.

  Mr. Vaughn and Frank continued their conversation, inviting Max to join them.

  My eyes traced back to Emily, who sat across from me.

  “Wilson. That’s an interesting name. Is it a family name?” I heard Mrs. Vaughn ask. My attention switched to her.

  “No, it’s not,” I answered shortly.

  Do you know how many people ask me that when they meet me? I used to get really mad and come up with elaborate stories about how I was named. Now I just tell them no and it tends to end the conversation.

  “Have you ever thought about legally changing it?” she asked me with all seriousness.

  Are you frickin’ kidding me? The audacity of this woman to ask me something so ridiculous. Cindy was right about these Vaughns—they are so last season.

  “No, never.”

  “Oh, I hope I didn’t offend you,” Mrs. Vaughn apologized. I felt Max grab my leg under the table and comfort me.

  “Mom!” Emily looked horrified.

  “I’m not saying I don’t like it,” Mrs. Vaughn piped in.

  “Mom, I think Nancy needs your help in the kitchen,” Emily told her, gritting her teeth.

  “Fine.” She stood up from the table and huffed off to the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry about her. She tends to talk before she thinks. She drinks a couple glasses of wine and loses her manners. Right, Max?” She tapped his arm.

  “Ah, yeah, I guess so,” he answered.

  “Oh, come on, remember last year when we were having the big dinner down at our place and she asked my brother’s friend if he was gay? You have to remember that.” She smiled trying to get him to remember. She grabbed his arm and pushed at him. “Come on, he threw a huge fit and ran out. Jeff chased after him. Remember?” She pushed him again.

  “That’s right, at the annual Gold-Vaughn family dinner. That was awkward.” He pulled at my hand under the table.

  “That was the moment we found out Jeff was G-A-Y.” She spelled out the word. “My parents still can’t talk about it,” she whispered across the table, forcing a smile.

  “Wow, a year later?” I asked.

  “Yeah, and they still get all choked up about it,” she said.

  “That’s right, I missed that one last year,” Camille interjected.

  Nancy came out holding her berry cobbler pie, meticulously cut into perfect pieces, with Mrs. Vaughn following behind her holding plates.

  “Okay everyone, ta-da! Who’s having a piece?” Everyone around the table raised their hands.

  Max pushed his mouth to my ear. “Do you want to share a piece?” I shook my head yes.

  “Mom, let me help with that.” Max pushed his chair out.

  “No Maxi, sit. Karen and I can do this.” She placed a piece of pie on a plate and Mrs. Vaughn brought it over to Camille’s husband Dan.

  “Wilson and I are going to share a piece,” Max told his mom.

  “Okay, honey.” She delicately put a piece on the plate and slid it over in front of me. Within minutes they had everyone served.

  “Oh, I think the coffee is done by now.” She got up to get it.

  “Honey, sit down, visit; Max and I can bring it out.” Frank looked at Max and shifted his eyes. “It will give us a chance to check the football scores. The Broncos were up by seven the last time I checked. Who wants coffee?” He counted everyone who raised their hands, including me, before he and Max disappeared into the kitchen.

  “This is Maxi’s favorite pie. He and Camille would fight over the last piece. You must be pretty special if he’s willing to share it with you.” His mom took a bite and looked up at me. My heart warmed, deeply.

  “He’s a great guy,” I answered her compliment. I broke off a small piece and tasted it. It was phenomenal. Chunks of berries burst in my mouth, sweet with a small twist of tart.

  “So how did you meet my brother?” Camille took another bite and waited.

  The second bite almost didn’t make it down my throat. Acid would have gone down easier. Max and I talked about this, what was the plan? My mind went blank and I shuddered all the way down to my toes. I didn’t want to screw this up. Was it coffee or a party? I lifted my eyes from my plate and found everyone staring at me. A pin could have dropped and everyone would’ve covered their ears.

  “Um, well. We took a class together.” As the words left my lips I remembered we agreed to say a coffee shop. We met over at a coffee shop, oh shit, what did I just do? I’d better backpedal or start working this out to be truthful enough to twist it into what we wanted them to see.

  “It was a government focus group.” I tried to come as close to the truth as possible. I really liked Nancy and I wanted to be honest with her.

  “So you’re a teacher like Max?” she asked.

  “You look way too young to be a teacher,” Karen Vaughn interrupted.

  “They have accelerated programs now. I remember seeing it on TV,” Camille told us.

  “No, I’m not a teacher,” I answered.

  Max came out then, holding a couple of coffee mugs in his hands. His face went a little white as he picked up where I left off, filling in the gaping holes in my lie and making it real to them.

  “Wilson’s a student. She doesn’t have time to work. She’s carrying some pretty heavy units this semester.” He pushed the mugs to Emily and Camille.

  “Oh, wow, what school?” Camille asked. She grabbed the cream and poured it into her coffee.

  That’s it, we’re caught. Might as well just wrap it up and tell them the truth. I opened my mouth to come up with some random excuse for what we were doing.

  “She’s attending a small school in the East Bay,” he rattled it off so fast it took me a moment to recognize what he’d said.

  “What’s your major?” Emily asked. I looked at Max and back at her.

  “I’m undecided, but maybe sociology or childhood development,” I said as Max’s dad set a cup of coffee in front of me. Thank God it gave me something to focus on while they intently listened to what I said.

  “So you want to work with kids?” Camille asked.

  “Something along those lines,” I said. Max didn’t go back to help his dad bri
ng in more coffee. In fact, he sat next to me, keeping his hand occupied with mine.

  “Do you live on campus or with your parents?” Emily asked as she sipped her coffee.

  “On campus.” Drips of perspiration rolled down the back of my neck. This was way too hard to keep up.

  “So are your folks nearby?” Frank asked keeping the conversation about me. A bubble large and rough stuck in the back of my throat. I looked at Max hoping he would help me; I didn’t want to go there with all these people in the room. But what choice did I have? It was going to come up sooner or later. Might as well get through this fast—go ahead and rip the Band-Aid off.

  “I don’t have a relationship with my mother or father. My grandparents raised me.” I felt the wounds in my heart tear open and a burning sting over come my body. I didn’t want to say this in front of Max’s mom. I didn’t want her to know I came from a broken-down, shattered family, which was splintered even more by living away at a boarding school.

  “So your grandparents live in California?” Frank asked. He was determined to find out if I had family or not. It felt kind of strange to have to answer his questions with words that didn’t comfort his ideals about my heritage. Max kissed my temple and answered his dad’s questions.

  “Wilson lost her grandparents recently.” He tensed his face, his eyes narrowed and the corners of his lips pulled down.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nancy stand up and walk over to me. She grabbed my hands and lifted them in the air so my body would answer by standing. She pushed her arms around my neck and hugged me with so much love I couldn’t help but lock my arms around her.

  I know it was probably hard for most people to relate to the screwed-up type of emotional disconnect I had when it came to my parents. It was just easier to pretend they didn’t exist instead of always trying to justify why they didn’t want me. I was used to calling a spade a spade. I had no problem with that. My mother wanted to do drugs and drink firewater more than she wanted to raise me. She plopped me at my grandparents’ house and that was all she wrote. Well, actually, she did write me one letter. Told me that someday she hoped I’d forgive her for leaving me. I never wrote back.

 

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