"You're evil."
"I learned from the best."
* * *
My confidence plummets as I step onto the hardwood floor. This place is even more beautiful with the sunset flowing through the sheer curtains. It reeks of money, taste, class.
Walker pulls me a little closer. His fingers tense. Then his arms. His shoulders. His jaw.
It's subtle. Almost imperceptible—he keeps a perfect poker face—but it's there. I'm getting good at reading him. At seeing past the carefree smile.
A woman in her fifties in a black shift dress, a royal blue cardigan, and expensive all-business heels crosses the foyer. She's taller than I am, with dark eyes and highlighted dark hair.
Her red lips—a subtle, work appropriate red—press into a smile. "Walker, sweetie. It's been too long." She turns to me. "You must be Walker's girlfriend."
"Iris,
" he says.
"Jen." His mom places her hand over her heart. "You can call me Mom, though I'm sure that's a bit premature."
I look into Walker's eyes for some sign on how I should react. Is she really suggesting we're going to get married? I guess it isn't unusual for the mom of a twenty-something guy who's never had a girlfriend before. But still…
"It's nice to meet you." I offer a hand.
She takes mine with both of hers. Shakes. "You too." She releases me then turns to Walker. "I miss you so much, baby." She wraps her arms around him. "I know you have issues with your sister—"
"Let's wait until we sit down," he says.
Her lips curl into a frown as she pulls away. "We worry about her too." She motions after me then turns and leads us through the main room and the sparkling, stainless steel kitchen, past the sliding door that leads out to the backyard.
The pool glows against the darkening sky.
It's inviting.
"Iris." Walker takes my hand. Motions to the dining room through the open doorway.
Oh. I'm staring at the pool. Stalling, maybe. What can I really say to his sister? To his parents? Trust me, I know how hard this is for your daughter. Why? Uh, I just do. No reason. It's not like I'm a recovering addict. You really think I'd keep that from your son? Of course not. I'm not a liar.
Ahem.
I'm not here to angst about my baggage.
I'm here to support him. To help him confront his parents.
I'm focusing on that.
I follow him into the dining room, to the massive oak table.
He pulls out my seat for me, a perfect gentleman.
I take it, cross my legs, smooth my skirt, hang my jacket off the back.
Walker takes a seat next to me. He nods to his mom. Then to his dad, sitting next to her. "Dad, this is Iris."
His dad nods. "Robert. It's lovely to meet you. I'd offer you a drink, but we're keeping the house dry."
The frown falls off Walker's face. It's news. Good news.