Read An (Almost) Perfect Love Story (Love Story Book Three) Online
Authors: Rachel Schurig
Tags: #General Fiction
An (Almost) Perfect Love Story (Love Story Book Three)
Table of Contents
An (Almost) Perfect
Love Story
Rachel Schurig
Copyright 2013 Rachel Schurig
All rights reserved.
Kindle Edition
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
For Jessica, Amanda, Hannah, and Katy;
my sisters and my dear friends.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am so lucky to have such an amazing support group of friends and family. I am very thankful to everyone who encourages, inspires, and supports me.
Thank you to my editor, Shelley Holloway, for all your help, support, and advice.
Book cover design by Scarlett Rugers Design 2012
Chapter One
It was six o’clock on a Wednesday night, and I was late to meet my mother.
Well, not exactly late, not yet, but I would be, seeing as how I was still in the car and she was probably just now sitting down in the restaurant.
Had my boyfriend, Chris, been there in the car with me, fighting rush hour traffic, he would have told me to calm down, that being five minutes late wasn’t the end of the world.
But he hadn’t grown up with my mom.
“Come on,” I muttered, tapping my hands against the steering wheel impatiently. “Come
on
.”
Finally the truck in front of me made his left-hand turn, and I was able to get through the intersection. The restaurant was on my left, just down the block. I let out a sigh of relief. Now to just find parking.
It was my own stupid fault, thinking I could get into downtown Royal Oak quickly at this time of day. I should have realized there would be traffic. The downtown area of my adopted city was quaint and bustling, but it was also small and developed more than fifty years ago. As the area had grown in popularity, certain factors made it difficult to get around—few dedicated left turn lanes, not enough traffic lights, lots of pedestrian traffic, and never,
never
enough places to park.
I got lucky and managed to squeeze my little Ford Focus into a parallel spot on the street just as my dashboard clock turned over to 6:05. If I hurried, I’d be less than ten minutes late.
My mother, of course, was already seated when I rushed into the dining room at Bastone. She caught sight of me from across the room and raised a hand in greeting. I smiled, telling myself it was silly to feel nervous, and made my way to her table.
“Ashley, dear, you look lovely,” she said, standing to kiss my cheek.
“Thanks, Mom. So do you.”
I was not just being polite. My mother, as ever, was simply beautiful. She was tall, slim, and blonde—all the things I was not. She could have easily passed for my older sister. She kept her hair in a sleek bob; her make-up was impeccable but understated, and her skin was better than that of most of the twenty-five year olds I knew.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I said as I pulled off my coat.
She waved my apology away as she retook her seat. “Don’t worry about it, dear, I imagine you had to rush a bit to get ready after work.” Her eyes flicked down my outfit in that familiar way of hers before she glanced quickly at her watch. “But I suppose it is a good thing we didn’t arrange to meet down in my neck of the woods, or who knows how long I’d be waiting.”
She winked at me to show she was joking, but I couldn’t help the slight swoop of my stomach as I sat down. Again, I reminded myself that it was silly to feel that way.
Just relax, Ash,
I told myself.
She’s not mad at you.
A waitress appeared at my side to take our drink orders. “I’ll have water, for now,” my mom said. “But we’d like to see a wine list for dinner.”
Once the waitress was gone, my mother returned her attention to me. “So. How was your day? How was school?”
“It was good,” I told her. “The kids are a little hyper, but nothing I can’t handle.”
She smiled fondly at me. “That was one thing I never had to worry about with you. You were always such a quiet, sweet little girl.” She winked at me again. “Unlike some of my other daughters.”
I laughed. “I think hyper probably describes Allison and Amy pretty accurately.”
The waitress brought our waters, and my mother gave her a warm smile. “I’m so sorry, dear,” she said. “We’ve been so busy chatting, we haven’t even looked at the menu. Would you give us another minute?”
“Of course.” The waitress returned her smile and left the table. Not for the first time, I found myself impressed with my mother. She had a way of drawing people in, of making them feel like they were the most important person in the room. Even a simple interaction with a waiter at a restaurant could seem charming—the woman had presence.
“Let’s see, what looks good?” my mom murmured, peering down at her menu. She looked up at me, her eyes sparkling, and leaned in conspiratorially. I found myself subconsciously mirroring her. “I see a lobster mac and cheese that would probably wipe out my calorie allotment for the week. But doesn’t it just sound divine?”
I nodded, thinking to myself that it wasn’t just strangers who felt drawn to my mother. She raised her eyebrows. “What do you think, should we be terrible and go for it?”
“Let’s.”
She nodded, smiling, as she folded up her menu. “Maybe we’ll be
really
bad and order dessert as well.”
After the waitress came back to take our order, my mother relaxed into her chair, looking around the room. “This is a nice restaurant, Ashley. I like the atmosphere. I’m glad you suggested it.”
I felt a warm rush of satisfaction at her simple praise. My mother had excellent taste. Everyone said so. It probably made me happier than it should have for her to compliment one of my choices. Ryan, one of my best friends, said I had “idolization” issues when it came to my mom, but I tried to push those thoughts away.
“We come here quite a bit,” I told her. “It’s one of Ryan’s favorites.”
Her face lit up. “How is Ryan? I haven’t seen him in ages.”
“He’s good. Working a lot, of course. You know Ryan.”
She nodded. “He’s always been quite driven, hasn’t he? But I suppose that’s a good thing, considering his tastes.” She laughed appreciatively. Ryan and my mom had quite a bit in common when it came to tastes. They both liked style and labels. Expensive tastes, you could say.
“You would have been in heaven last week, Mom. He got a bonus, so he took me shopping at Somerset.”
My mother closed her eyes and smiled dreamily. “I think I can see where this is going.” Somerset was a very high-end mall close to my apartment. They had some of the best shopping in the area. “What did he buy?”
We chatted happily for the rest of our dinner. My mother loved gossip as much as I did, and was eager to hear all about Ryan and my other best friend and roommate, Emily. And about Chris, of course.
“I think he’s getting serious about you, Ash,” she said, pointing her fork at me. “I really think he is.”
I couldn’t wipe the grin from my face. “Do you?”
She nodded. “He treats you well,” she said, ticking each point off on her fingers. “He’s attentive and respectful. And, most importantly, he makes an effort with your parents.” She winked again, and I felt a little thrill at her words. I had to agree with her—Chris and I had been getting more and more serious lately. I was head over heels for him, to be honest.
“He’s great,” I said, grinning. “He makes me really, really happy.”
“I have a feeling I’ll be planning for some wedding bells soon,” she teased.
“Don’t get carried away, Mom,” I warned, but I was still beaming. She knew me well and was very familiar with my love of all things romantic. I’d been imagining my wedding since I was about four.
“What? Is there something wrong with wanting the best for my daughter?”
“Maybe we could just hold off on the wedding talk until he actually, you know, proposes.”
She patted my hand on the table. “It won’t be long, dear. You can bet on it.”
I laughed. “Well, once you’ve decreed something, it’s bound to happen, I guess. You
are
the all-powerful Amber Phillips.”
She laughed, too. “Don’t you forget it.” She took a sip of her wine, her face becoming more serious, almost wistful. “I’ve been dreaming of planning a wedding for one of my girls since you three were in diapers.”
I squirmed a little in my seat. “Well, hopefully it won’t be too far off, but I’m not pressuring him.”
She didn’t seem to hear me. “A big, formal wedding. With all our family and friends. Everything you could dream of, just like a fairytale.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. I had heard her wax poetic about the perfect wedding she would give each of her daughters for years. In fact, I had probably gotten the romance bug from her. I dug my fork into my macaroni. “I don’t need a fairytale, Mom. I just want to be as happy as you and Daddy are.”
I thought her face darkened for a moment, but it was gone before I could really register the expression, and she was back to her normal, beautiful, sparkling self.
“Well, I suppose there’s no need to get ahead of ourselves. It will happen when it happens, right?” She looked down at her still half-full plate. “What do you think, Ashley? Have we overdosed on our calories for the day? Or should we just admit defeat and order dessert anyhow?”
I looked at my plate, much cleaner than hers. For all of her talk of ODing on calories and being bad, she had eaten like she always did—daintily. I, on the other hand, had scarfed down my food.
“I’m not sure,” I said, wishing I had left more of my food. I had been trying to lose five pounds for the past month.
“Oh, let’s go for it,” she said. “It’s not everyday I get to have dinner with my lovely daughter.”
Warmth spread through my chest at her compliment, but it was short lived. “Besides,” she continued, her eyes flicking down over my figure once again. “We can always eat clean for the next few days to make up for it, right?”
“Right,” I said, trying to keep the color from my cheeks.
She’s not implying anything
, I told myself. I nearly believed it.
My mother ordered a truffle chocolate cake thing that looked delicious and started in on some complicated story relating to a scandal in her book club. She was a member in good standing of half a dozen social groups, including her book club, a ladies’ church group, and a town beautification committee. She was very social and liked to stay busy. She seemed happiest when other people were counting on her in some way—which they usually did. It was hard not to when she was so very competent at everything.
I listened to her gossip, nodding and asking questions when appropriate. I was usually pleased when my mom trusted me enough to share the ins and outs of her daily life with me. I knew she didn’t do so with my sisters, and it made me feel proud that she confided in me.
But when the waitress brought over our dessert, for some reason, it didn’t taste nearly as good to me as I had expected, and that was in no way the fault of the restaurant. In fact, the dessert was chocolaty and gooey and generally perfect. I just couldn’t help but think I would enjoy it more if the look my mother had given my figure earlier hadn’t been quite so loaded.
Chapter Two
Have you ever felt like if you had to wipe one more runny nose, you would just totally freak out?
I have. Which I guess makes sense, since I
am
a kindergarten teacher. I went into teaching with the idea that I would be shaping the minds of countless children, preparing them for rich lives full of curiosity and learning. In reality, I spend most of my day tying shoelaces, wiping runny noses, breaking up arguments, and helping those little ones who have not yet mastered the concept of zippers.
