David mouths, Sorry.
I shake my head at him. He couldn’t have known his grandmother would change her mind. But what am I supposed to do? Fake it at the party? How? What do I do? This is much bigger than just pretending to be his date at a charity auction! I clear my throat. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“What do you mean?” Mrs. Darling says.
“Um… I already have plans,” I lie. My weekends are open. Ready to be filled with whatever free training program that catches my eyes. Or David recommends.
“Surely they can be adjusted? I’d offer to alter our party plan, but we already paid for catering.”
I start to feel slightly faint. “Catering?” They aren’t doing potluck? On the other hand, Alexandra Darling is a billionaire, so obviously she can afford to cater. Ack! I’m going to need a dress!
David notices my anxiety. “It’s just a fancy term for ordering meat for the barbecue. We always order enough to feed an entire neighborhood.”
Okay, that makes me feel better. But only marginally.
“It sounds so much nicer to call it catering, sweetie. Your dad is determined to show off his new barbecue sauce and grilling technique. Apparently, they’re going to w
ow us.” Mrs. Darling says it with the sigh of a woman who’s heard something more times than she cares to remember.
“We barbecue every time the family gets together, except for Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s,” David adds.
“We’d do it then too if Alexandra didn’t have the grill cleaned and put away,” Mrs. Darling says. “Anyway, do come, Erin. I promise you’ll love the party, and we’d love to spend time with you and get to know you better. If your plans can’t be adjusted, then I suppose we’ll have to host an engagement party.” She pauses for a second. “Actually, that might be better. You deserve an event of your own.”
My skin crawling, I shake my head hard, even though she can’t see me. That sounds about as fun as being waterboarded naked while stuck in a cave full of giant, flying cockroaches. “No, no. I’m sure I can change my plans. I wouldn’t want to impose.” Anything is better than an engagement party—and therefore a spotlight—of my own.
“Are you sure?” she asks. “I really should be more considerate. After all, you only get engaged once.”
Yeah, except this isn’t real. I should’ve thought about how his family would react. It isn’t like Warren’s or mine. They’re incredibly tight-knit. “Yes. Honestly. I wouldn’t want to be a selfish and thoughtless daughter-in-law.” I press my lips together and cringe a little at the smooth way daughter-in-law slipped out.
“Well…if you’re sure. But if you change your mind, let me know. I love planning parties. And cooking. I bake the best brownies, if I may say so.”
“You absolutely do,” David says.
“I love baking, too,” I say, hoping that talking about brownies will make her forger about the engagement party. “I’d love to have your recipe, if you don’t mind.”
“It’s a family secret. But since you’re going to be joining us, why not?” She laughs. “I’m going to let you two lovebirds go. Enjoy your dinner!”
“Thank you,” I say with more enthusiasm than necessary. It just seems like the thing to do with his bright, positive mother.
David ends the call, then looks at me. “Well.”
“Yeah. Well.” I stare back, my mind numb. This must be how a deer feels when it’s facing headlights.
“I didn’t realize she’d call so soon. Or that Grandma would change her mind about the party.”
“Isn’t it late in Virginia?” His mother always grumbles about having to stay up to catch David after work. She told me so more than once when she had to call me to grab him because he wasn’t answering the phone.
“Yeah, and she’s an early bird, too. I bet Trent or Derek called to let her know.” David stares off into the distance. “Probably got brownies out of her…”
I feel a little guilty. When the opening in the L.A. office popped up, David wasn’t sure, but I campaigned for it. I wanted to get as far from Virginia as possible, put as much distance between me and Dad as I could. If Sweet Darlings, Inc. was going to pay for it, so much the better.
Although I’m not arrogant enough to think I’m the reason he decided to take the position in L.A., I’m sure my little nudges had some influence. Now he’s out here away from his family and misses his mom’s food.
I make a mental note to look up a recipe. Mine probably won’t be as good as Mrs. Darling’s, but some brownies are better than none, right?
Chapter Eighteen
Erin