The Problem with Forever (22 page)

“Sounds like a long, busy day.” She swiped the spoon around the inside of her bowl. “You don’t think you’ll have homework this weekend?”

I shook my head as I placed my bowl on the nightstand. My stomach was a pretzel now.

“Carl isn’t exactly going to be okay with you spending your free time with Rider,” she said, and I might’ve stopped breathing. “He was the same way with Marquette,” she added with a sad smile. “Now, I think it’s a good idea for your two friends to meet, because both of them are important to you, but it’s also important that we meet him.”

Oh no.

“So I think we should meet him before Saturday. That will probably go a long way to alleviate Carl’s concerns, and, well, mine, too.” Her gaze met mine. “So that’s the deal we’re going to make. You want to see Ainsley and Rider this weekend, then he needs to come over for dinner on Friday. Both of us will make sure we’re home.”

Oh, my.

Oh, my, my, my.

“Okay?” she urged.

I nodded and said, “Okay,” because what else was there to say? I had no idea if Rider would even be okay with that, and now I was thinking I really shouldn’t have told her about my Saturday plans.

A beep radiated from the pocket of her sweats. Leaning to the side, she pulled out her pager. I’d only seen Carl and Rosa use them. It was weird, seeing doctors use what seemed like an obsolete piece of technology. She grabbed her cell out of her back pocket and called in.

“Dios,”
she murmured, rising immediately after she finished the quick call. “Can we hit Pause on our conversation?” she asked, frowning. “I hate to ask this, but I’ve got to. I have a gunshot victim coming in. Looks like a young kid.”

I nodded. “It’s...okay.”

Rosa leaned over and kissed my forehead. She was out of the bedroom and out of the house in under two minutes. I hoped she had a successful surgery. Losing patients wasn’t easy on her, and in this city, it happened far too often.

I picked up my phone as I heard the front door close. I typed out the text that made me feel like I did right before I gave my speech earlier.

Carl and Rosa would like to meet you Friday for dinner.

There. There was no other way I could say it, so I hit Send.

Taking my bowl downstairs, I found hers on the kitchen counter. I washed both out and then placed them in the dishwasher. By the time I went back upstairs, there was a text from Rider.

Sounds cool. Let me know the time.

Holy crap.

Sounds cool? A smile raced across my face as I texted back a quick okay. He disappeared from the convo while I washed my face and when I returned, the text he’d sent created a flutter deep in my chest.

Looking forward to it.

I wasn’t quite sure about it.

In the middle of the night, I heard Rosa come home. I crept to the top of the stairs and listened to Rosa and Carl talk about her patient. The kid was thirteen. Shot twice. Once in the chest and the other in the back. Rosa had been able to repair the damage to the chest, but the spine was done. She disappeared into the library, and I knew she’d stay there until morning with a bottle of wine. She didn’t take losing patients well, and even though this one hadn’t died, the outcome still affected her.

Thirteen. And this kid wasn’t ever going to walk again.

Chapter 20

Watching Rider give his speech on Friday was like tuning in to my favorite TV show. I had no idea what to expect, but I knew I was going to enjoy the view. He showed up to speech class at the last possible moment and then delivered his informative speech on different types of art like it was no big deal. He was smooth and almost a little careless, grinning on and off throughout it, but he appeared happy as he spoke. Rider knew his art and he was good at doing this—at standing in front of the class and effortlessly keeping everyone’s attention.

Well, almost everyone’s.

The whole time he spoke, Paige’s fingers were flying across the screen of the cell phone she had hidden in her lap. They didn’t speak in class that day, and I wondered if Paige knew he was coming over tonight.

Tomorrow I was going to find out.

We just had to get past tonight.

Rider also wasn’t bothered by the dinner he’d be having with Carl and Rosa. I, on the other hand, barely made it through the day, and I showered after returning from school just to burn off excess energy.

I had no idea how tonight was going to go.

But the house smelled wonderful.

Rosa had put a pot roast in the slow cooker and even though I was incredibly nervous, I wanted to shove the entire thing in my mouth.

That would probably be a bad idea.

Hair dried, I didn’t put what I’d worn to school back on. I wasn’t sure if that was weird or not, but I thought tonight... Tonight was special. Three out of four of the most important people in my life were finally meeting. I pulled on a pair of jeans and the soft cream cap-sleeved sweater Ainsley had given me for my birthday last year. It was fitted at the chest and waist, flaring out slightly around the hips. I twisted to the side while I checked myself out in the mirror.

Pressing my lips together, I smoothed my hands down my sides and over my hips. An unexpected thought hit me, flushing my cheeks. It wasn’t necessarily a thought. More of a...an image, a feeling—of Rider doing the same. His hands. A shiver curled lower in my stomach.

So wrong—so very wrong.

Rider was just a friend. That was his place in my life.

I turned from the mirror and dropped my hands. Taking a couple of deep breaths, I left the bedroom and went downstairs. I checked out the wall clock in the foyer and my heart skipped. Rider would be here soon.

Rosa was in the kitchen, setting the table for four. For Rider. Oh, gosh. She glanced up, smiling. Her dark hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. A timer went off. “Can you grab the pot off the stove? Be careful. It’s hot.”

Happy to have something to do, I grabbed an oven mitt out of the drawer and walked over to the stove to retrieve the pot of steaming veggies.

“Are you nervous?” she asked, moving back to the cabinets.

Smiling, I nodded.

“Don’t be.” She started pulling down cups. “This is a very exciting moment for us all.”

It was.

Once the glasses were on the table, it struck me that Rider and I...we had never shared a dinner like this together. Not once. We’d eaten together. But it was usually on a floor or...

“I want to ask you something before Carl comes down here.” She placed her hands on my shoulders. She smiled, but her dark eyes were serious. “How do you feel about Rider?”

My eyes widened. There were so many ways I could answer that. So many things I could say or think, but the first thing that popped in my mind was what I had felt when I stood in front of the mirror.

“Ah, that’s what I thought.”

I looked up at her. “I...”

“You don’t have to say anything.” She placed a hand on my warm cheek. “It’s all right here.”

“He has a girlfriend,” I told her.

“Honey, that doesn’t mean you don’t end up feeling something for someone when you shouldn’t.”

Oh.

“You’re growing up.” Her gaze lifted to the ceiling. “And I am so not ready for this again.”

Um.

“But I’m going to have to be, aren’t I?”

Uh.

Rosa’s gaze searched mine. “I’m going—”

“What are you two doing?” Carl crossed the living room toward us. “Having a special meeting without me?”

“Just a little girl talk.” She dropped her hand and curled her arm around my shoulders. I’d totally just dodged a bullet that had
awkward
written all over it. “Don’t you dare lift that lid—”

Carl had stopped at the counter, where the pot roast was cooling on a platter. He feigned innocence. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Uh-huh. We both know better, don’t we, Mallory?”

I nodded. We totally knew better.

The doorbell rang suddenly, and I jumped. My gaze searched out the time. It was five till the time Rider was supposed to be here.

Carl turned toward the entryway.

“I’ll get it.” I took off, squeezing past him.

Sliding to a stop in front of the door, I all but threw it open without even looking to see who it was. But it was him.

Rider stood on our porch, and he... He had changed his clothes, too.

Relief washed over me, immediately followed by a keen sense of awareness, because he looked—he looked
hot
. I shouldn’t notice that about him, but I did. He was wearing a button-down gray dress shirt and dark jeans. My gaze got hung up on his hands.

His full lips curved into a half grin. “Can I come in?”

I blinked.

The grin spread into a smile. “Mouse?”

“Oh. Yeah.” I moved to the side. “Yes.”

Rider stepped in, his gaze drifting over me. I inhaled, catching the scent of cologne. Our gazes caught for a moment and then he looked toward the living room. The centers of his cheeks were flushed a darker shade. “Dinner smells amazing.”

“It’s...it’s pot roast.” I was no longer hungry. I glanced at his mouth and quickly looked away. “Um, Rosa is... She’s a great cook.”

Hyperaware of his presence, I started to lead him toward the kitchen. We walked through the living room, and Rider stopped suddenly in front of the china cabinet. “What are these?” he asked.

I turned, following his gaze. My eyes widened. He was staring at the soap carvings he must not have noticed the day he’d stopped over after school. “Um...”

He leaned in, tilting his head to the side as he studied a sleeping cat. “Were they bars of soap?”

“Yeah,” I whispered.

“Wow,” he murmured, his gaze crawling over the heart and the sun I’d done a few years ago. “Did Carl or Rosa do this?”

I shook my head. “No. Um. I...did them.”

“What?” He straightened and looked at me, surprise filling his expression. “You did this? Why haven’t you said anything?”

My cheeks were burning. “No...one but Carl and Rosa know about it.”

He stared at me then looked back into the cabinet. “Mallory, that’s pretty amazing.”

I lifted a shoulder. “It’s just...soap.”

“It’s soap you carved into very recognizable things,” he said. “I can’t do that.”

“But you can spray-paint and draw and—”

“And I can’t do this,” Rider repeated. “Those carvings take just the same amount of skill as spray-painting does.”

I was going to have to disagree with that. Uncomfortable with the attention, I gestured toward the kitchen. “You ready?”

He watched me a moment longer then nodded.

Carl and Rosa waited at the kitchen table.

“This...this is Rider,” I said, twisting my hands together. “And this...this is Carl and Rosa.”

Rosa’s brows lifted and there was a slight widening of her eyes.

Carl eyed Rider from the scuffed toes of his boots to the top of his messy blackish-brown hair, and his brows slammed down.

And that was the moment I knew this dinner was going to be all kinds of awkward.

* * *

It started with the food.

And then the questions.

Both things were related. The moment we sat down, Carl began grilling Rider. Caught off guard by the tactic, I only managed to cut into my slice of roast and eat a chunk of potato.

Rider also hadn’t touched most of his food, probably because Carl was apparently interviewing him. When there was a break in the Spanish Inquisition, Rider turned to me. “Are you going to eat?”

I nodded as I speared a potato. Rider watched until I actually ate the vegetable, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes only because I knew what drove him. Like the times at lunch, he always made sure I ate. It was hard to break the habit after years of sharing scraps and leftovers. I ate another potato and Rider spooned up chickpeas.

Cutting into the pot roast, I glanced up and across the table. Carl and Rosa were staring at us. Knowing they probably didn’t understand the exchange, I flushed.

“So you work at some kind of body shop?” Carl cleared his throat. A piece of perfectly cooked pot roast dangled from his fork. “Part-time?”

I closed my eyes.

“Yes, sir. At Razorback Garage. The owner calls me in to do custom paint jobs,” Rider answered patiently. He’d been patient throughout the whole—the whole
ordeal
.

He answered every question Carl posed. How long was he in a group home? What neighborhood did he live in? What subject in school was he most interested in? Which, not surprisingly, turned out to be art class. The questions kept coming and coming, so much so that Rosa didn’t get a word in edgewise.

I was so embarrassed.

And so incredibly disappointed.

“What do your foster parents do for a living?” Carl asked.

My fingers tightened around my fork as I breathed through my nose. This...this was getting out of hand.

Rider was unfazed. “I only have one foster parent. Mrs. Luna’s husband passed away before I came into the picture. She works at the phone company.”

“And what do you plan to do when you graduate high school?” Carl kept on firing. “You’ll age out of the system and I assume you don’t plan on staying with Mrs. Luna. Are you heading to college?”

“I currently don’t have any plans to go to college,” Rider responded as he pushed his chickpeas across his plate. “That costs a lot of money, and Mrs. Luna has already done so much for me. I couldn’t expect her to pay for my college.”

“There are grants and scholarships,” Carl reasoned as he cut into the slice of pot roast. “I’m under the impression that you’re very bright.”

“He is,” I said. “And he’s also very talented. He...he has artwork displayed at a place in the city.”

Rider grinned at me.

“You do?” Rosa responded smoothly. “At an art gallery?”

As Rider answered her question, I prayed that Carl would stop with the third degree.

Rider looked over and asked for a second time, “You’re not eating?”

Half of my mouthwatering pot roast sat untouched. I was too frustrated to chew my food without spitting it onto the table.

He nudged my arm and said in a low voice, “Eat.”

Sighing, I picked up my fork and stabbed the meat. “Happy?”

His dimple appeared in his cheek. “Thoroughly.”

Carl’s perpetual frown faded a bit and he eased off at that point. Sort of. When he asked what we planned to do tomorrow, it was me who answered, but he kept directing the questions to Rider. Thirty minutes after dinner was finished, I kind of wanted to flip a table.

It had been a very, very long time since I’d felt that way.

“Mallory tells me you have a girlfriend,” Carl said, and I nearly choked as my eyes widened. “How does she feel about you coming to dinner tonight?”

Rosa looked over at her husband, her brows raised. I opened my mouth to point out that his girlfriend really, seriously wasn’t any of his business when Rider shocked me.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, sir.”

I jerked back in my seat as my head swung toward him. “What?”

“I mean, I did.” Rider’s cheeks pinked as his gaze met mine. “Paige and I... Well, we broke up.”

My stomach dropped to my feet as I stared at him. A thousand thoughts whirled. I couldn’t have been more shocked. He hadn’t mentioned anything. Then again, I hadn’t asked about him and Paige since last week, but how could he not have mentioned that?

“Well, this appears to be a surprise to everyone.” Carl’s tone was flat.

He continued to speak and Rider continued to answer his questions, but I wasn’t paying attention as I stared at Rider’s profile. There had been signs recently that things weren’t normal between them. They really hadn’t been talking to each other. Paige hadn’t sought me out. Hector had said that they’d gotten into it and that was why Rider wasn’t in class Friday. He’d been
tore up
. Maybe he hadn’t been drinking. Maybe he’d been torn up because they’d broken up?

Maybe Paige was done with his friendship with me. Rider had said before if he had to choose between us... Oh, God, I really hoped it had nothing to do with our friendship. I didn’t want to be that person who showed up and just...screwed up other people’s lives.

I was still stunned when the table was cleared and Rider was leaving. “Thank you for dinner,” he said to the Rivases, polite as ever. “It was delicious.”

Snapping out of my head, I rose with him. “Do...you need a ride?”

He shook his head as he pushed the seat in.

“It was lovely meeting you.” Rosa rose, placing her napkin on the table. “Don’t be a stranger,” she said, leaning in to give Rider a quick hug.

Carl nodded in his direction as we walked around the table. Rider stopped, extending his hand while Carl stood. “Thank you again, sir.”

He smiled tightly as he shook Rider’s hand. No words were exchanged, and I walked Rider outside. Streetlamps were on, casting buttery light on the smooth cement of the sidewalks.

“You sure I...I can’t give you a ride?” I asked.

Nodding, he stopped on the steps and faced me. Our gazes connected, and that heady warmth was back. “I had a good time.”

I raised a brow. “Really?”

He laughed as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah. They’re pretty cool people.”

“Carl wasn’t... He wasn’t very friendly. He asked you so many questions and he...he wasn’t very kind about it.” Anger surfaced, scratching at my skin. “I’m sorry about that.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Mouse.”