Chapter Fifteen

Evie

Evie pulled a bottle of pinot from the fridge and popped the cork. Pouring the wine nearly to the rim of the glass, she took a big swig and plopped down on one of the barstools at the island.

God, today had been a long day. She’d been on her feet for ten hours straight with her head under the frother and her hands in the coffee roaster. Today, her dad had dialysis and Julie was shooting a wedding, so Evie manned the ship solo. Camila stopped by after practice and worked the counter for a couple of hours, which Evie was grateful for. Her daughter had been in a good mood, chatting about school and her friends and some boy she’d met. It was as if Hawaii-gate never happened.

Twice, Evie started to tell her about the pregnancy and both times she’d lost her courage. It was the first day Camila had been happy and open, like her usual sunbeam of a daughter, and Evie wanted to hold on to that for just a little while longer. Plus, the more Evie thought about it, the more convinced she became that this should be Mateo’s story to tell. Of course, provided he didn’t find a way to blame this one on her, too.

Evie was tired of being the fall guy. It was time Mateo stepped up to the plate, and she was going to tell him that. Tomorrow. Tonight she had a date with a bottle of wine and a bubble bath. If she could get Camila out of their shared bathroom long enough.

“Any new suitors today?” Moira asked, breezing into the kitchen with so much grace it was as if she were floating on air. She was dressed to the nines, her hair effortlessly perfect, and her makeup smoky. All she needed was a martini in hand to double for Faye Dunaway—her early years.

“Four,” Evie said. “All carrying roses. But you knew that because you and Julie have been impersonating me online and responding to men’s messages. Not to mention sneaking videos of me doing embarrassing things, like bending over to get the bagel balls out of the oven.”

Moira poured herself a glass of wine and slid onto the other barstool. “There are a few women in there, too. Don’t be so singular in your quest for love.”

“Not looking for love. Or a date, for that matter.”

“And you aren’t keeping up with the sheer volume of potential partners You’ve Got Male has attracted.” Moira took a delicate sip from her glass. “It would be rude not to respond and as your mother it’s my responsibility to make sure you aren’t rude.”

“As my mother it’s your responsibility to listen to your child when she tells you how she feels.”

Evie was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Would you mind getting that?” her mom asked, taking a leisurely sip of wine. “It’s probably Marty. Or is it Mark?”

Evie rolled her eyes. “You don’t even know who you’re going out with?”

“All I remember is that he’s a Gemini, which should balance a little of my Aries fire. Plus, Gemini is represented by twins, and I’ve always wanted to date twins.”

Not wanting to hear her mom’s theory about the sexual prowess of a Gemini, she set her glass down and made her way to the door. She opened it and her greeting died on her tongue.

Had her mom taken the whole twin thing too far? Because standing on the porch were two men. Well “men” was a bit of an overstatement. One was maybe twenty tops, the other early twenties. Both were dressed nearly identical. Skinny pants, different color graphic tees, with tan boots and a hoodie.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Is Camila home?” the younger one asked. That’s when she noticed the bouquet of flowers he was holding.

“Nope. Not happening,” Evie said. There was absolutely no way this guy was age appropriate.

“Seriously?”

“I’m her mom, and I am always serious when it comes to twenty-year-olds dating my sixteen-year-old.”

“I’m only nineteen.”

“Yeah, it’s still a no.” But the kid didn’t budge. She eyed the other man. “And you?”

“I’m here for Moira. Are you her mom, too?”

Evie slammed the door in their faces.

“Where are your manners?” Moira tsked, then opened the door. “Good evening, gentlemen. And which one of you is Mark?” The one who looked older stepped forward.

“Milo.” He held out his hand.

“Of course,” she said breezily, elegantly shaking it. “Moira and Milo. We’re going to have a fun time, aren’t we?”

Lenard walked up behind the two of them and kissed Moira on the cheek. “Have fun, sweetie. But not too much fun.”

“Who’s that?” Milo asked.

“Oh, my ex-husband. We’re a very progressive family.”

He smiled. “Right on.”

“This is your date?” Evie asked. “And you had him pick you up here?”

“I’m a gentleman, ma’am,” Milo said to Evie. “I take my Cougar Catch matches seriously.”

“You find dates on an app named Cougar Catch, but you call me ma’am?”

Milo shifted nervously from side to side. “You seem like a ma’am kind of woman.”

Before Evie could respond, Camila appeared from behind her grandfather. She was in a dress much like Moira’s, only it was shorter and tighter. “Hey, Dexter.”

Evie’s hand flattened to her chest. “Dexter? Like the serial killer?”

Dexter’s brows caved in with confusion. “Who?”

“Never mind. This”—she waved between the two mismatched teens—“isn’t happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening,” Camila challenged. “You said I needed an adult to go to the wedding. Here’s my adult.” Camila went up on her toes and kissed the guy. Dexter seemed surprised but not disappointed as if that was a green light for other things.

“Exactly, he’s an adult. You’re a minor, and in the state of Colorado, I am in charge of you until you’re eighteen.”

“My body, my choice.”

Evie opened her mouth but nothing came out. What could one say to that? Plus, she was so shook by Camila’s comments and blatant disrespect that she didn’t know how to proceed. Wasn’t she just happy and sunshine-y three hours ago? There was no way Evie was that moody at her age…right?

Moira’s hand rested on Evie’s shoulder. “Why don’t you let her go?”

“Because he has to be pushing twenty-five.”

Lenard looked him up and down. “I put him at twenty.”

“He said he’s nineteen,” Camila said. “And we can hear you.”

“Nineteen is too old,” Evie said.

“Ryan is almost nineteen and you don’t freak out when I’m with him,” Camila said.

“Because he’s our friend.”

“Well, Dexter is Ryan’s friend. So one degree of separation.”

“And one degree from getting his ass kicked if he even decides to take things past hand-holding.” The serious-as-shit voice came from the shadow behind the porch.

Then Jonah appeared, holding a grocery bag, and his gaze was dialed to locked and loaded.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Dexter said with a large gulp. “What are you doing here?”

“I should ask you the same. Does Ryan know you’re taking out Camila?”

“Uh, yes sir. He was there when Camila asked me out.”

All five sets of eyes flew to Camila, who was toeing the porch plank with a pair of thigh-high boots that looked suspiciously like Moira’s.

Evie was about to send Camila to her room like she was six and throwing a tantrum when Moira said, “Milo, how about we make this a double date?”

“Seriously?” Camila blinked as if she’d never imagined that she’d get a yes out of this situation. Meaning, she was purposefully setting Evie up to be the bad guy.

“As long as your mom’s okay with it,” Moira said and Evie felt torn. She didn’t want to reward this behavior, but if Camila was going to go on a date with a guy who was a little too old, what was safer than with Ryan’s friend—who was clearly already scared shitless of Jonah—and a sixty-five-year-old chaperone?

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but be home by ten.”

Camila jumped into Evie’s arms and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks Mom. We’ll be home by eleven.”

“Ten or no deal.”

Camila rolled her eyes, but she was grinning from ear to ear. “Fine. Ten.”

“That gives us four hours to paint the town red,” Moira said, and Evie wondered just what she’d agreed to.