by Claire Adams
Just be honest. It seemed I was lying to everyone except myself. And the hardest realization of all was that I wasn’t lying when I said I was falling for him. In fact, it might have been the first time I hadn’t lied when talking to someone else about Gavin.
Be honest? I shook my head as I started my car. There was no way I could ever be honest with Gavin, not when he was constantly making it clear that there wasn’t anything going on between the both of us.
I was falling for Gavin, I realized. And that was going to make things much more complicated than necessary.
Chapter Twenty-One
Gavin
The weekend flew by quickly, with nights spent at the bar beside Ron and afternoons by Mom’s side. I didn’t want her to spend a single day alone, despite her constant assurance that she was fine, and it seemed that Karen felt the same way. There was always someone within a foot of Mom, waiting for her to fall or to choke on pudding or throw a shake at the wall as she grew angry and tired. Karen wanted her comfortable, and I wanted her healthy, and it was obvious that Mom was annoyed at our constant presence.
I woke at my normal time the following Monday with no plans in particular other than visiting Mom. I briefly wondered if she would give me a disappointed stare and slam the door in my face, or if she even had the energy for it. We spent Saturday afternoon discussing my writing over lunch, and she convinced me to write a short story. It would be a detective caper with a happy ending, and I wanted to finish it within the next month at the latest.
I mulled over the plot as I stepped into my gym and spent an hour lifting weights in between cardio. I had the entire first half finished by the time I was done, and I used a voice recording app on my voice to detail the book as I hopped into the shower and washed off the sweat. Mom would like the idea; I was sure of that at least.
I clothed myself and walked toward the kitchen with the intent of making a protein shake before leaving for Mom’s house. Something caught my eye on the couch, and I walked in front of it.
The gray blanket that I had covered Maddie’s sleeping body still remained on the couch, and I gently picked it up and folded it in my arms. I sniffed it, expecting it to smell like her hair, but it didn’t smell any differently than the rest of my house. I was disappointed for some reason and shoved back into the storage that I removed it from. Of course, it wouldn’t smell like her.
I grabbed a notebook full of story ideas and walked over to Moms. The volume on the TV was loud, and I had to cover my ears as I looked for the remote to turn it off.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were here,” Mom said as she left the bathroom. I peeked around the corner to find Karen standing in the kitchen wiping the inside of the microwave.
“You wouldn’t hear the apocalypse with that volume,” I said and hugged her. “Is it really necessary to listen to Days of Our Lives with the volume all the way up?”
“You know my hearing is shit,” she said. We both took a seat on the couch. “And before you say anything, no, I am not going to get a hearing aide.”
I surveyed Mom. Her cheeks were thinner, bags beneath her eyes, and what was left of her hair was in some sort of greased clump on the top of her head. She swayed slightly as we both took a seat on the couch, and I realized that she was gripping the edge of her seat with weak fingers.
“You might like a hearing aide,” I said. She had stopped wearing her thin-framed glasses days ago, saying they were too uncomfortable to bother with. The past week she developed a sudden need to just be comfortable.
“You and I both know I would hate it,” she said. “Now, are you going to show me what’s in that notebook?”
I glanced at the paper notebook tucked away in my arm.
“If you’re not feeling okay,” I started, but she shook her head.
“I’m fine. Tell me about your stories and ideas, Gavin. The only reason I woke up today was to hear them.” She settled against the couch’s cushions and patted the spot beside her.
“Okay,” I murmured, not wanting to dwell too much on her words. I scooted next to her and opened the notebook. “So, it’s a detective story.”
“I know, I picked it,” she said. I smiled.
“About a man traveling home to his brother’s funeral,” I said. “But when he gets there, he gets a letter from his brother telling him that he’s still alive, and the man has to follow three clues to find his brother.”
“What about the funeral?” she asked. “Doesn’t the man see his brother’s body?”
I shook my head. “It’s closed casket, gun to the head,” I said.
“And the end?” she asked. “Does he find him?”
I watched as she poured through my notes before taking them away from her.
“I guess you’ll just have to read it and find out,” I said. Mom’s smile dimmed. “I already started on the first chapter. It won’t take me long, I promise.”
Her frail hand wrapped around my wrist, and I nearly gasped. It was cold as if she were already a corpse, and so light that I could barely feel any strength behind it.
“I’m getting worse, Gavin,” she said. “I can’t walk, can barely stand, and I can’t eat anything. The light hurts, and the dark gives me a headache.”
“We’ll go see Dr. Lemonis tomorrow,” I said. “He’ll get you some medicine.”
“No, Gavin,” she sighed. “I’m not getting better. It’s weird, I never thought I’d say this, but I can feel my life shortening. I don’t have much longer.”
“You had six months,” I said. “It hasn’t even been half of that yet.”
“The doctor was being kind; he said that was the most I had,” she said with a sad smile. “But maybe I will make it the rest of the six months.”
“What do you want?” I asked. “Do you want to go anywhere? Have anything delivered?” I moved to face her. “Anything, Mom.”
She closed her eyes and nodded before looking at me.
“I really like Maddie,” she said. I frowned, not understanding what Maddie had to do with anything.
“Me too,” I said.
“I’ll get to the point; do you think she’s the one?” she asked. I opened my mouth and closed it. I hadn’t even thought of Maddie since I arrived, but I should have known Mom would eventually get to this topic. I wanted to see her happy at least.
“You’ll be at the wedding,” I said. “You’ll be in a gown of your choosing, and you’ll see Maddie in the most beautiful white wedding dress.”
“You can’t plan a wedding in six months,” Mom said. “You can barely plan one in a year.”
I saw her words as a challenge. “I’ll ask her tomorrow night,” I said. “I’ll ask her to marry me, we’ve already talked about it enough, and if she says yes, we’ll have the wedding this weekend.”
“You’ll plan a wedding for this weekend?” Mom raised an eyebrow. “Gavin, do you have any idea how impossible that is?”
I grinned. “Nothing is impossible, Mom.”
She nodded, and then a smile spread across her face, one that I hadn’t seen in years. “Ask her,” she said. “Ask her, and then come straight here so we can start planning.”
There was a spark of light in the back of her dull eyes, just a small flame that was beginning to burn brightly as Mom thought more and more about the wedding. It’s a look I hadn’t seen since my father passed, and at that moment I knew I would do whatever I had to in order to get Maddie to marry me. Well, fake marry.
“It’s time for your bath,” Karen said from the hallway. Mom groaned.
“You can’t leave me to my happiness for another few minutes?” she asked, but Karen shook her head. I smiled, knowing that Karen was set in her routine.
“Take your bath,” I said. “I have some planning to do.”
“Don’t forget to write that book,” Mom reminded me.
“You’re giving me a lot of things to plan,” I said and shook my head. “I’ll come see you before dinner tomorrow.”
“Don’t bothe
r,” she said. “Call me the next morning and tell me everything.”
We said our goodbyes and I returned home. I closed the door behind me, wondering if I just put my foot in my mouth. Propose to Maddie already? I wasn’t worried that she’d say no, this was a part of our agreement, but even she would be surprised at the abruptness.
I pulled out my phone and dialed her number.
“Am I being summoned?” she asked as she answered.
“For a dinner tomorrow night,” I said. “I’ll pick you up at six.”
“From my place?” she asked. “You actually want to come over this time?”
“I’ll pick you up outside your apartment,” I said. “And you have to be dressed up. Like, really dressed up, for pictures.”
“Pictures?” Her voice lifted. “What kind of pictures?”
“Fancy ones. Celebratory ones. Just be ready at six, okay?” I hung up, knowing full and well that she was probably cursing my name.
I sat in my office and pulled out my laptop with the intent to write. I got maybe a sentence down before hitting writer’s block, and instead pulled up my browser.
I typed in three words, last minute weddings, and clicked search. The first page of results were more scams than anything, including a few ads for mail-order brides. I groaned.
This wasn’t going to be easy.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Maddie
What sort of celebration happens on a Tuesday? I asked myself this as I got ready for dinner. I spent nearly the entire day trying to force myself to be calm, but it was hard when Gavin refused to explain anything. I messaged him in the afternoon asking if the dress needed to be classy or fun, and he had responded with either. I asked if I should wear a necklace, he said he didn’t care. I asked about any color schemes that I needed to be aware of, and he had replied with a sideways frown face. I had thrown my phone on the floor in frustrated and picked out a simple black cocktail dress, with a halter top and elbow length sleeves.
I spent some time on making my hair wavy and then pinned it up into a high bun. My eyes were smudged with charcoal with a lint hint of golden flakes at the tips, and I meticulously glued on false eyelashes to make mine look long and plump. Dark red lipstick and 20 minutes of blending foundation onto my face followed by another five of blush, and I was ready.
I pulled at the waist line of my dress. It was already as tight as a dress could be, and I knew I’d have to watch it on the carbs. I had eaten only a salad with half a protein shake after a workout, in case dinner ended with a chocolate cake for dessert, and my stomach growled in response.
My phone beeped, and I checked it to find a text from Gavin saying he was in the car outside. I opened the messenger app and replied with, “No dinner unless you meet me at my door. 215B. :)”
I snickered, knowing that he was cursing my name as he read the text. A small bubble with an ellipsis appeared as he began responding, and then it disappeared. I turned back toward the mirror and reapplied my lipstick, waiting.
He knocked on my door several minutes later.
“It’s open!” I yelled, still sitting at my vanity inside my room. I heard him grumble as he entered the apartment.
“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked,” he said from the living room. “This part of town isn’t safe.”
I laughed from my spot. “Safer than your part of town,” I said. “No one here has anything worth stealing.”
His head popped up from around the corner as he entered my room. I watched him from a reflection in the mirror. Fitted white suit, smooth trousers, a gray tie. He looked incredible, even with the stubble from a five o’clock shadow. I glanced at my black dress and gray heels. We were quite the good-looking couple, I realized. And it seemed that he shared the same thought as a look of desire crossed his face.
“Lock your door,” he said and leaned against the door. “Or else I’ll have to install a security system in here.”
“I knew you were coming,” I said and stood. “I left it unlocked for you. Plus, I have a security system here.” I gestured at a small black box beside the front door. “Nancie and I had it turned off when we first moved here, though. It was charging us $50 a month.”
“Well you have more than enough money to activate it,” he said. “I’ll send over another couple hundred to your account if you send proof that it’s on.”
I blinked. “Really? Why? Are you worried about me?” I grinned as a blush crossed his face. He looked at the floor, then at the ceiling, and finally at me.
“You’re the only thing making my mom happy these days,” he said. “I sort of need you to not be kidnapped or assaulted.”
Disappointment hit me as I gathered my purse and slipped my phone into it. “Of course,” I said. It was silly of me to think that he might have developed any feelings at all. Meanwhile, I was struggling to form complete sentences around him.
“This dinner,” he said as we left my apartment and walked down the hallway. I remained two feet behind him as he led us toward the elevator. “It’s at that new hibachi place downtown.”
“A hibachi dinner?” I asked, surprised. I was definitely dressed up for something much more expensive.
“Is that not fancy?” he asked and glanced at me. I realized he was being serious. “I don’t bother with going to expensive places.”
I tried remembering if anyone had even mentioned the restaurant on social media. I pulled out my phone and looked through several apps using the search function. I couldn’t find anything about it. We entered an empty elevator and stood several feet away from one another.
“Well, what is it for?” I asked as the doors closed.
“A proposal,” he said.
“For what?” I was still staring at my phone.
“Well, for you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “To marry me.”
My phone slipped out of my fingers, but I caught it before it could crash into the bottom of the elevator. I took a deep breath and looked at him.
“This is a proposal dinner?” I asked. “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”
“You needed to look somewhat surprised in the pictures,” he said.
“Pictures,” I repeated, realizing what it meant. “For your mom.”
“And to show at the wedding, which will be this weekend,” he added as the elevator doors opened. I followed him to his car.
“This weekend?” I nearly shrieked. “Gavin, you can’t plan a wedding within a week; that’s impossible!”
He glanced at me. “So I’ve heard.”
He opened the passenger car door for me and left without closing it. I stretched and grabbed the handle and closed it myself.
“Well, you can’t propose to me at a hibachi dinner,” I said. Nerves were rubbing in my stomach, despite knowing that it was all fake. Still, a part of me was excited and almost happy.
“The entire floor is rented out,” he said. “We can try and make it look fancy in the pictures at least.”
“Did you tell your mom about this?” I asked. “Where the dinner’s at, at least?”
“She said to make it a surprise,” he said. I nodded; that explained the weird location. I smiled as I watched him drive. Despite having billions of dollars, it would have been impossible to tell that Gavin was anything more than a middle-class momma’s boy. He wore the same suits often, never matched any of his clothes, didn’t utilize his giant mansion to its full potential, and drove cars that the average person didn’t exactly lust over.
I glanced at his golden watch, a brand that was probably only a thousand dollars at most. There were men far less rich than he who wore million-dollar watches. And I had flirted with plenty of them.
We arrived at the restaurant shortly afterward, with him opening my door and closing it behind me this time. I slipped an arm through his elbow, laughing to myself as he tensed.
“Remember to look surprised, after the dinner,” he said. “I have a professional photographer coming to shoot
us.”
“Should I ask in what way?” I asked. Gavin frowned and raised an eyebrow. “Never mind the bad joke. Sorry.” A host led us to the only hibachi grill that was on, and I was thankful that our table was a classic two-seater marble table with a hibachi attached to the left side. The host pulled out my seat as Gavin took his, and we faced one another as the chef started cooking beside us.
“I’ll be honest,” I said as our waiter poured each of us a glass of wine. “This is a lot fancier than I expected.”
The restaurant itself was a dim room with at least six giant hibachi grills, and a giant aquarium lining the black and gold themed walls.
“Two cups of sake, please,” Gavin asked the waiter and turned to me. “What, did you expect me to propose to you at some random one-star Japanese restaurant where the meat source is suspicious? I do have some standards.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I guess I did sort of misjudge you a little.” I took a sip of wine as the chef started a little show on the grill. He grilled vegetables and chopped up several chunks of chicken while adding in a scrambled egg and white rice.
“My father loved hibachi grills,” Gavin said as we watched the show. “He never spent much money on himself, only on us, but the only thing he ever wanted on his birthday was dinner at a hibachi restaurant. So, Mom would make it happen for him every year. He’d get the fried rice, chicken tempura, sushi, grilled beef, anything on the menu.”
Our waiter returned with two small ceramic cups of sake. “And always washed it down with sake.”
I sniffed it. “I’ve had it a few times at parties,” I said. “But never at a proper restaurant.”
“Sake with a side of chicken tempura was Dad’s favorite,” Gavin said and held his cup to mine. “A toast, maybe?”
I clinked mine with his.
“To your father,” I said. “It sounds like he was a wonderful man.”
“He really was.” Gavin smiled and took a long sip. The flavor was light and mild on my tongue, a stark contrast to the strong and bitter taste of my wine. “Mom worshiped the man. Even when he was off for months at a time on business trips, she didn’t look at another person. They were in love.”
