Well. That wasn’t very helpful.
Pete’s frown deepened, and Jason blurted, “Oh my God, I reckon that’s the pie timer!”
“Huh?” Pete pulled his gaze up. “I don’t hear—”
Jason ripped himself out of Owen’s grasp and jogged across the road (past Nick and pups), calling “We’ll see you on Friday” behind him.
He ran straight to the fridges and stuffed his head into one, groaning. “So, that could’ve gone worse,” he murmured. “You could’ve told him you’re engaged.”
A gasp startled him, followed by a lyrical voice. “Engaged?”
Slowly, he pulled out of the fridge and turned to an overjoyed grin and deep sparkling curiosity that quickly morphed to folded arms and a scowl. She batted a rolled-up magazine against his shoulder. “What haven’t you told me?”
Jason stared.
Dark hair just like his, not a grey one in sight. Then, she’d only be forty. Cousin Cora. Mother.
He’d envisioned this moment all night, all morning, and none of his iterations had him engaged.
The doorbell chimed, and one glance had Jason’s shoulders relaxing and his stomach knotting. A rather odd mix of relief and anticipation that he’d examine in more detail later.
Cora tapped the end of her magazine against his nose, laughing. “Don’t keep me in suspense. Who were you supposed to tell you’re engaged—other than me?”
God, he needed to untangle this mess.
In his peripheral vision, Owen halted in the junk food aisle just a couple of frantic bounds away. For a second, Jason wanted to bound over there, hide behind all that solidity and have Owen handle this for him.
He shook off the thought. “No-no, not engaged. I just . . . ran into Pete.”
Cora scowled at the name, which spoke of the depths of her loyalty to Carl.
“Had to tell him I needed a plus one to his wedding, and he didn’t take it great, and”—he gestured toward the fridge—“I was just contemplating how much worse it would have been if I’d had to tell him I didn’t just have a boyfriend, but was also engaged.”
“YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND?”
Cora flung her arms around his neck and all his worries about this first hug were smothered. Soft warmth and hazelnut swallowed him whole. Nothing like the strong, quiet embrace his mum used to give him; this had its own flavour, a little hectic and immature. But full of love.
“You kept it quiet. You kept it so quiet. But I knew. You’ve been acting off these past weeks—I thought it was because you got landed being Pete’s best man but . . . you were caught up in other feelings.” She pulled back, her lipstick smudged, then yanked him close again. “Oh my God. It’s in the stars. Whoever he is, he must be the one. Your horoscope’s been predicting a love-match all month. Let’s look.”
Again, she pulled back, and wandered—with a wink and wave to Owen—to the counter.
Jason took a few seconds to gauge his bearings. He still felt the enthusiasm of her hug around him and . . . he didn’t feel content like he’d imagined he would. Something painful lanced through him instead. His throat tightened.
That hug was for Carl, not for him.
He rubbed his brow and tried to chuckle the pang of jealousy away.
Owen had given up pretending to look at merchandise and was quietly observing him. He mouthed, “You okay?”
And that introspection, that clever cop intuition, that acknowledgement . . .
Heat stung behind his eyes; he nodded hurriedly and followed Cora to the counter.
“Capricorn.” She read the horoscope—the wrong horoscope—aloud, and it did, in fact, predict a love match.
“What does Sagittarius say?” Jason murmured.
At her sharp look, he quickly added, “I’m on the cusp, Sagittarius feels more like me sometimes.” Always.
“Sagittarius,” she read slowly, a quiver in her voice. “You may have felt down and your love life completely non-existent, but your bright poise will soon pay off as someone with a kind and solid heart will show their interest in you. This is a love for keeps, but not one you’d usually consider. Be ready to open your heart to something special.” She prodded both passages with a manicured finger. “See. They both say it—‘a love for keeps’. So tell me everything about this boyfriend.”
She bent lower over the counter, elbows on the glass, chin cupped in her hands.
Jason flustered and pinched the magazine. “Let me have a look at that.”
He stared at the pages, words swimming, as he searched for something he could tell her. Specifics were out of the question at this point, and would be until he somehow found someone willing to play boyfriend for the rest of the summer.
He peeked over the top of the magazine and laughed at the cliché sight of Owen packing donuts into a box.
Cora cast a look over her shoulder at Owen too, and back to Jason with a funny eyebrow twitch. “You can’t mean—”