Another Shot At Love (20 page)

We drank too much and laughed too loudly, and I didn’t once worry about the next morning or how I’d make it through work. Roxanna sang while Matt and I listened, because she was good and I refused to touch a microphone. When she snuck Matt’s name in the rotation and the DJ called him up, I knew he’d had too much to drink when he stood and said, “Sure, what the hell.” Especially since he’d mentioned an hour or two before that he never in his life had sung karaoke and didn’t plan to any time soon. We followed him up by the stage, cheering him on until the music started and his lyrics flashed on the screen. When he opened his mouth, I realized why he didn’t sing.

“Oh, my God,” I breathed while the worst sounds croaked out of Matt’s beautiful mouth, positioned above his perfectly-chiseled chin. It couldn’t even be described as singing. Just a deep, cracking, shaky voice. Not that I was a rock star, which was why I stayed away from the microphone.

“If he weren’t so damn gorgeous, he’d be booed off the stage.” Roxanna’s face was taut as Matt’s horrible rendition of Purple Rain flooded the bar.

I glared at her. “This is all your fault. You forced him up there.”

Roxanna shrugged and held her hands up. “Hey, I just put his name in. He’s the one who jumped up when they called it.”

Okay, that was true, but still…

“Look at him. He’s having so much fun,” I said and smiled back encouragement. He didn’t seem to need it; the huge grin on his face told me he was enjoying himself. “He must love this song.”

“
Honey, I know, I know, I know times are changing
,” Matt sang, and the crowd erupted with cheering.

“Holy shit, look at them,” Roxanna breathed. “They’re in love.”

Most of the women in the bar had their eyes glued to Matt. Roxanna and I clapped and wooted raucously along with the rest of the women who were eating out of the palm of his hand. He was horrible, and I couldn’t remember anything more adorable than him singing his heart out on stage. My heart beat chaotically to the cheering and the bass of the music, and every time he caught my eye, I had to tell myself to calm down.

“He’s horrible,” I laughed and couldn’t have wiped the grin off my face if someone had pointed a gun to my head.

“But perfect,” Roxanna said with a shake of her head. “I like this guy. You can keep him.”

“Thanks. I wasn’t thinking of throwing him back,” I said just as the song ended, and bounded to the stage. When Matt jumped down, I threw myself into his arms and he spun me around, his laughter infectious.

“That was absolutely terrific,” I said, and it wasn’t a lie. I’d never smiled so much in my life.

We kissed with the rowdy crowd in the bar cheering us on.

Chapter Thirteen

I had been avoiding the conversation with my parents, but it was inevitable—and the right thing to do. Disappointing them wasn’t something I made a habit of. This time I wouldn’t blame them if they disowned me. But they deserved to know the truth.

I opted for a phone call instead of a face-to-face because I was a chicken. I have a tendency to cry when I get worked up and I needed Mom to understand me. If I turned into a blubbering, weeping mess, it wouldn’t do any of us any good.

I chose the straight-forward, no-bull route.

“I made it all up, Mom,” I said into the phone. Mom, however, must have thought it was a load of crap and sputtered into the phone.

“What do you mean? You two look great together. You
are
great together.”

Hmm
. She’d made a good point. I actually happened to think Matt and I looked amazing, not just great, together.

“Mom, neither Matt nor I are interested in a serious relationship right now.”

Well, at least it had been true when we first met. But after two weeks, I had this little crush on him, which complicated things. But I’d been telling myself it didn’t matter. A little crush was nothing. I liked spending time with him, liked the way I felt around him. So, if casual made him more comfortable, then I was going to be the coolest, most casual chick he’d ever met.

Fun Gen, that’s me.
I dropped down onto the couch and laid back.

“Now you listen to me, young lady,” Mom said, and I braced myself for the fireworks. “I’ve been very supportive of you flitting around life like it’s no big deal.”

“I don’t fli—” I started, but Mom cut me off.

“But this is
it
,” she huffed. I pictured her pacing. “Matt is a good man. If you think I’m going to let you sabotage the only promising relationship you’ve ever had, you’d better think again. Matt is perfect for you. I don’t care what you did to him; you make it right.”

“Mom, I can’t make it right. We weren’t a couple.” I dropped a leg over the side of the couch to rest my foot on the floor.

“You broke up with him, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question. The disappointment in Mom’s voice was lucid.

“Of course she broke up with him.”

I sat up at the sound of Catherine’s voice on the other end of the line. “Is that Cat? Tell her this is none of her business.”

Not good. Cat would probably have Paul on the phone in five seconds if she thought I still needed a date for the engagement party.

“Of course it’s her business,” Mom said, slamming something down on the kitchen counter. It sounded like a jar…or a hammer. “If you don’t fix this you leave me no choice but to step in and fix it for you.”

“Mom, you can’t fix my relationship because we don’t have one.”

“Imogen Mae,” Mom warned.

“It’s over. Really. He…has smelly feet.” He didn’t have smelly feet. He didn’t have smelly anything. Matt was perfect. I had no idea where the words had come from; they’d just fallen out of my mouth from some kind of self-destructive reflex. I smacked myself in the forehead and squeezed my eyes shut.

What the hell is wrong with you? Oh. My. God.
This phone call had been about telling Mom the truth, not bringing in another lie. I felt rotten. Horrible. Worst daughter ever. My heartbeat picked up speed to an erratic thump in my chest. I wiped a clammy hand on my jeans and wondered why I hadn’t simply told her Matt was just a friend.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
“Mom, actually—”

I was too late.

“All men have smelly feet!” Mom cried out in exasperation.

“Tony doesn’t have smelly feet,” Catherine said in the background.

I rolled my eyes. “Tony has bad B.O.”

“I’m not telling your sister you said that.”

“What did she say about Tony?” Catherine asked.

“Nothing,” Mom told Catherine. “Gen, your dad likes Matt. They are going
fishing
together. Do you want to break your father’s heart?”

And then Mom hung up.

I closed my eyes and screamed into a couch pillow. When I was done having my meltdown, I told the empty room, “I tried.”

Funny how lying worked: I had lied and everyone believed me; I’d confessed my sins, and no one wanted to hear it.

My big fat mouth had really gotten out of hand. What would my parents think when they learned the truth? How could I even explain this to my dad? It sounded ridiculous even in my own head. My vision blurred and I lost focus on the ceiling. I had no idea how to make things right.

Chapter Fourteen

I kept staring obsessively at my cell phone display, hoping he would call. He’d told me he would, once he returned from an out of town investors’ conference. It had only been a few days since I’d heard from him, but it felt like weeks. I needed to tell him everything was okay on the parental front.

Okay, so I was making up excuses to hear his voice. Whatever. In my defense, he’d been worried about me having to tell them all I was a liar. I wanted to assure him my parents weren’t mad, especially Dad. He was a stand-up guy, my dad. If anyone could understand my foolish reasons for making up my lame-brained story, it was Dad. He knew how stubborn Catherine could be, once she got something in her head. And my whole family would agree Catherine wasn’t an easy person to say no to.

Dad had been the most okay with it all. But maybe that was because I’d promised him that Matt and I were still friends, so he could still call Matt to set up a fishing trip. Matt lived on Moonlight Lake, just on the edge of town, and he had a pontoon boat, which was a yacht in my dad’s eyes. I hoped Matt wouldn’t mind taking my dad out in it, but I didn’t think he would. Matt was the only other person I’d ever known who enjoyed fishing as much as Dad.

You need to call him. It’s the right thing to do.
So I did.

I waited nervously while the phone rang. When he answered, I was so nervous and excited, I spoke too loudly.

“Hey, Matt!” I cringed at the shrillness of my voice. Calming my voice, I said, “Hi. I was just…how are you?”

“I’m good,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “I just got back into town. I was going to call you.”

“Oh,” I said, disgusted by the relief in my voice. “How was your trip?”

“Very boring. How have you been?”

Missing you
, I thought. “Good. I’m great.”

“I’m glad,” he answered.

After an awkward pause, I blurted, “So I was going to watch this really creepy movie about aliens and thought maybe you’d want to watch it with me?”

He laughed, deep and sexy, and my stomach fluttered. He said, “That sounds horrible, but I’m game. I guess if we’re going to spend time together, I better get into the alien thing, too.”

I grinned. Happy was not the right word for how I felt. Elated, was more like it. I couldn’t wait to see him. I danced around my kitchen. “I was told this movie will give me nightmares.”

“I can’t wait,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ll see you soon, Gen.”

I hung up, the smile on my face so big it hurt my cheeks.
It’s not a big deal
, I told myself, for the umpteenth time. We’d watch the movie, and I’d talk to him about my parents and the fishing date with my dad.
No big deal at all.

I so regretted my choice of movie for our first real date. The first two times we were together didn’t count. One, because after I’d stuck my face in his crotch he’d probably thought it was the gentlemanly thing to buy me a hamburger afterward. Two, because the next time I saw him, my mom had invited him to dinner and the reasons why had prompted a drink invitation from him. Those were forced encounters.

This was a real date. Well, a movie date between friends.

Twenty minutes into the movie I already had my hands over my eyes while I peered at the screen through my fingers, and screamed into my palms when I couldn’t hold it in.

“I shouldn’t have picked this movie.” The family on screen rushed around, preparing for an alien invasion I didn’t want to watch. I was already thoroughly creeped-out by the little boy walking around like a zombie.

“It’s not so bad,” he said, and his shoulder brushed against mine.

“If you say so, but I probably won’t sleep for a week,” I said with my chin tucked to my chest; I was still too chicken to look at the screen.

“Oh, no,” he laughed and placed his finger under my chin, tipping my head up. I squeezed my eyes shut. “You invited me over here to watch a scary movie in the dark. You can’t make me watch this alone.”

I groaned and opened my eyes. “Maybe we should turn the lights on.”

“Nope,” he said, and I scowled at his grin. “We’re doing this old school.” He held up the bowl of popcorn. “No chickening out, Gennie.”

I pushed out my bottom lip and slouched into his side. “Fine. But I’ll get you back for this.”

“Just think of something else, something just distracting enough to keep your mind off the scary parts.”

His suggestion seemed completely logical.

“Okay, then,” I said, and then was side-tracked by his hair, my gaze drawn to the ends starting to curl up at the nape. “Are you growing your hair out?”