Page 47 of Center of Gravity
“Fifty-seven.” I smiled down at the pile of potato peels when her gaze cut sharply across to me, then I laughed.
“You’re such a little shit,” she said, but was grinning.
“He’s thirty-seven.” One of the few things I knew for certain about him. “But just for the record, older men are totally acceptable these days, Mom. I’m not fifteen.”
“Fifty-seven would be too old.”
“Why?” I said it for argument’s sake, but Mom set down her potato peeler and leveled me with one of her mom looks.
“Because it’s just…that’s too old. Can you imagine Dad with a twenty-three-year-old? How about me?”
“Gah, okay, point made. But that’s you and Dad, and you’re my parents. I’ve seen some very prime fifty-five-year-olds out before.Veryprime.” I wiggled my brows for effect.
Mom rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you have. But don’t tell me about them and don’t bring them home.” Her shoulders trembled in a mock shudder.
“I’ll make sure they’re under fifty,” I teased.
“It’s not even necessarily the numbers thing, Alex. It’s—I mean what would you have in common? You’ve still got so much to do. Someone that age? They’re thinking differently than you are.” She waved her hand and picked up the potato peeler again. “I just think it’d be difficult to relate.”
I chewed on my lip, considering Rob’s brush-off in a way I hadn’t before. I couldn’t talk to him about accounting or financials like Sean could, or buying a first home. But that didn’t mean I didn’t know anything about mortgages or… Ahh, hell, who was I kidding? I worked for a place with ‘buffs’ in the title and made art in my parents’ garage.
Lainey ranto answer the doorbell when it rang. She’d put on a flower-print dress and some of Mom’s lipstick.
“Oh, youarean adult.” She sighed with evident disappointment while I stared, wondering what dimension the man on our porch had been snatched from. Rob stood there in blue jeans and a white button down. Flip-flops, clean-shaven, hair styled back from his forehead and a twinkle in his eye for Lainey’s greeting. My mouth watered at the sight of him. I was so used to seeing him in gym shorts and running shoes. This was…this was an incredibly handsome man. One who also carried a bottle of red wine and a bouquet of flowers. He might as well have walked out of a Nicholas Sparks novel.
“I am, unfortunately. A lot of days I wish I wasn’t,” he said.
His answer must have piqued Lainey’s curiosity, because she followed up with, “What would you rather be?”
Rob was stumped. I could tell by the way his expression went a little slack. And it was cute how he stood there, absently running the plastic wrapping the flowers along his jaw while he searched for an answer until he realized flower petals were dripping all over our stoop and forced his hand back down to his side.
“A dolphin,” I answered for him, stepping from the kitchen doorway. “So he could hold his breath underwater for longer.”
He glanced up at me and winked, sending a sizzle of heat up my spine. “Those for me?” I nodded to the flowers, giving him a Cheshire cat smile.
“Not even close.” He extended the bunch to Lainey quickly.
“For me?” she asked, and he nodded. He was a decent liar. “You didn’t bring Winslow.”
Rob squinted down at Lainey, who still guarded the doorway. “You’re a hard one to win over, aren’t you? Maybe he can come for a visit again soon.”
Mom appeared from the kitchen, so I rescued him from Lainey by making introductions.
“So you like red after all. Alex said you only drink beer.” Mom swept the bottle of red into her hand when Rob offered it over, giving the label a cursory glance, then gesturing to the kitchen.
“I didn’t say he only drinks beer. I said that’s the only thing I’ve everseenhim drink.”
“I’m capable of a higher quality palate,” he said, following my mom into the kitchen. “Smells good. Pot roast?”
Mom peeked in the oven, checking on the rolls. “I hope that’s okay.”
“More than. I thought there was a chance we might be eating Cracker Jack for dinner given your son’s obsession with it. Were you aware of this?” His mouth had curled into a teasing grin, and he cut another almost sly look over at me while I continued to gawk.
“Since he was about six. I still don’t understand it.” Mom handed Rob the wine opener and let him do the honors while she pulled down and rinsed some wine glasses that probably hadn’t been used in years.
Rob filled our glasses and Mom lifted hers, eyes sparkling. She liked Rob already, I could tell. “Everything will be ready in fifteen minutes. Let’s drink until then.”
Rob toasted her glass, mine, and then took a sip before asking, “Anything I can do to help?”