“It’s probably in a file somewhere,” I admit, “but you can tell me.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to see you.”
“I’ll be back by evening.”
Evening feels like forever. “I can’t wait that long,” I tell her. “I want to come over.”
“To my parents’ house?” She sounds not only surprised, but hesitant.
“Is that a problem?”
“I don’t think you want to meet my parents.”
Because we’re not in a real relationship? Because we’re only each other’s booty calls? Because I’m not Jack? Don’t assume, Landon. I take a breath. “Why not?”
“Because they’re parents!” She exclaims. “My mom will probably start planning our wedding.”
“Really?” If that’s what she’s worried about, I can live with it. “Sounds interesting. Just tell them we’re friends.” I find her parents’ address somewhere in my phone and continue. “Tell them I’m in the area, and I’m picking you up or something. I really want to see you.”
She sighs. “Fine.”
“I’m already on my way.”
I arrive at the charming brick house less than an hour later. The drive is lined with flowers and shrubs, and more flowers line the paved path to the front door.
I’m slightly nervous as I ring the bell, like I assume a teenager would feel arriving to take his girlfriend out for a first date.
The door opens and Rachel is standing there. Her eyes light up when they land on me, but the hesitation I sensed earlier is still there.
She looks as if she’s not sure whether to kiss me or turn me away.
“Your security guys obviously know what they’re doing,” she quips. “Did they unearth a copy of my birth certificate too?”
“I only hire people who know what they’re doing,” I say before pulling her into my arms and kissing her full on the lips. It’s a short kiss, not nearly satisfactory. I release her just as an older man walks into the foyer.
He’s either Trent or Taylor Foster. Her dad and her uncle, Laurie’s dad, are identical twins, and the duo behind Trent & Taylor, a successful ready-to-wear fashion brand, which they sold a few years ago. I doubt I could tell them apart, though I’d guess this is Trent, Rachel’s dad.
I smile politely, meeting his eyes as he sizes me up. “Good afternoon, Mr. Foster. I’m Landon Court.”
“Good afternoon,” he says pleasantly. “Don’t just stand there. Come in.”
He takes my hand in a firm handshake, leading me to the living room, where Rachel’s mom and her Aunt Jacie are waiting with questions. Rachel abandons me to their interrogation, and I have no choice but to turn on the charm.
They’re both remarkable women. Lynn Foster is a well-known painter with exhibitions in some major galleries, and Jacie, originally from Barbados, was a famous international model in her day.
Lunch is lively. Laurie and Rachel’s little brother, a tall boy who looks to be barely twenty, join us downstairs. Laurie looks miserable, and I rethink my statement that she’ll get over it.
Maybe she won’t.
And maybe Rachel won’t get over Jack Weyland either.
Where would that leave me?
Right where I was before she came into my apartment, and into my life, alone.
The thought is sobering, so I focus instead on the conversation and the laughter. It’s impossible to miss the love and affection that fills the house. I’ve missed my family all my adult life, but I’ve never really felt what it would have been like if things hadn’t fallen apart. Now I have an idea.