Or maybe it was because that part of my life seemed to be moving smoothly. A little too smoothly. And then with how everything happened so suddenly with Gabi, I wasn’t sure if I was just being paid back for the shitty hand I was dealt in life or what. Maybe I was just overthinking things…
There was a knock at the front door of my duplex, before the door cracked open. “Jacob? Are you in here?” my mom called out.
“Yeah, Ma. Come in.”
I tucked my phone back into my pocket, figuring I would save the good news for the dinner table.
“You look like kinda funny, is everything okay?” she asked, pushing the door open wider with a curious look on her face.
I shrugged, pasting on a smile. It wasn’t that I wasn’t excited about passing the test, I just had too many things on my mind to contend with it. “I’m all good. What did you cook tonight, anyway?”
“Why don’t you pop on over, and find out?” she replied with a smile. “And thank you for changing into some decent clothes for once.”
“Hey! I have no idea what you’re talking about. I always look good.”
She pursed her lips at me. “Yeah, sweaty and stinking, just coming back from the gym does not equal looking good, but whatever you say, honey. I’ll be waiting,” she added, laughing at my expression before shutting the door.
After freshening up just a little bit, in case my mom had something smart to say about it,
I headed across the hall, happy to smell the thick aroma of my mom’s famous shepherd’s pie and some kind of cinnamon tart thing wafting past me.
“Awesome, you know I was just thinking about how long it’s been since we had your delicious shepherd’s pie,” I said, walking into the kitchen just as my mom gave me a quick one-armed hug, patting me on the back.
“I was thinking the same thing. Why don’t you go grab some plates for us? We’ll need three.”
I stopped for a moment, confused. “Three?”
“Yes, three. We have a guest coming for dinner tonight.”
This was a first. No one interrupted weekly dinner nights. No one.
Mom saw me staring hard at the extra third plate and rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t do that. I figured that since the cat’s out of the bag about me and Leonard, it only made sense for you two to have a more formal introduction.”
Yeah, I could just imagine that more formal introduction—Leonard De Leon leaning in to give me a handshake in front of my mom, quickly shoving a knife right into my gut, then telling me to keep him in mind when I go to the voting booth in November. Oh yeah, this wouldn’t be awkward at all.
“Come on, you can’t be serious. Do I have to pull up what’s been trending in the news over the past week, or what? I hate to break it to you, Mom, but I’m like 99.9% positive your boyfriend hates me,” I called out over my shoulder, grabbing two plates. I sure as hell wasn’t about to be part of the act.
She watched me through slitted eyes as I placed a plate down in front of her at the table, and put the other one across from her. I stood there, my arms crossed over my chest.
“Believe it or not, honey, that’s not true. Leonard may seem like this big, bad guy, but he’s really not.”
I sighed. “You’re missing the bigger picture, Ma. It doesn’t matter what he’s like—he blames me for the whole thing that happened with Gabi. I saw her texts. I heard her voicemail messages. He wasn’t pleased in the slightest about any of it. And now you just expect him to be cool with it just because he’s coming here for dinner tonight?”
My mom reached across the table, taking a knife and not so gently cutting into the cinnamon tart, letting the steam hiss out of it. “I’m not an idiot, Jacob. Do you really think I’d invite him over here for our dinner night if I thought he was angry with you? Even you have to give me better credit than that.”
I knew she had a point, but… No way that man wasn’t ready to kick my ass. Not that I thought he could, but he’d definitely try. “Okay, but what did you say to him? If he thinks this news about Gabi and me is bad for his campaign or whatever, he’s not just going to let it happen.”
“I already talked to him about everything, actually,” she continued, pulling the silver pie tin closer to her. “We talked about everything a couple of nights ago, in fact. And yes, you’re right. He was very angry, and he did blame it partly on you, but I set him straight. You and Gabrielle are both adults, you can handle yourselves, and what the two of you do has nothing to do with him. Or us, for that matter. His public image is very important to him, but for good reason. He’s good at what he does and he’s got plenty more to give to the city. He doesn’t want that taken away because of some silly gossip that has no real effect on his duty.”
“And not at all to do with the fact that he probably just doesn’t want his daughter hanging with some ‘low life,’ like a stripper, right?” I mumbled. It didn’t matter than I knew I sounded like some petulant kid. I didn’t want to get my hopes up that it was just that easy.
“He might be a little biased, but that’s just him looking out for her. That’s the parent in him, baby, and you can’t really be mad about that. Of course we know that you having a less-than conventional job doesn’t mean anything bad, but he doesn’t know that life like you do. And you’d do well to explain that it’s just a group of guys who have bigger aspirations in life than they appear. I explained that, of course, but it wouldn’t hurt hearing it from you, firsthand. I told him we’d deal with whatever fallout this might have with the press and it may have taken a little while for to sink in, but he did get it.”