Claiming Callie: Part two (25 page)

“It
’
s so good to see you, Mrs. Michaels.”
Callie smiles at her
Kiss the chef
apron
that she is wearing over her sweater. Her dark hair angles around her small face, accentuating her high cheekbones, and she
opens her arms as she moves to embrace Callie.

Mrs. Michaels grabs her in a giant bear hug, squeezing Callie
’
s shoulders and enveloping her in the floral scent of her perfume. “I know it
’
s habit, but I can
’
t have you calling me that anymore, can I? Not if
you
’
re dating my Dean. Please, start calling me Barb.”

She pulls away and holds Callie out at arm
’
s length. “I haven
’
t seen you in months. Little did I know it
’
s because my son’s been keeping you so busy,” she says, winking at Dean, who
’
s moved onto ravagi
ng a platter of fresh rolls.

The blush creeps back up to Callie
’
s cheeks
as Mrs. Michaels clucks her tongue. “Let me look at you. Stylish and gorgeous as always, just like your mother.”

The reminder of her mother leaves a familiar ache in her chest. She
tries to smile, but can
’
t manage the pretense through her yearning.

“And look at that hair,” Mrs. Michaels coos. “Just beautiful. I was always so jealous of your mother
’
s fair skin and light hair. You
’
ve inherited all her best features.”

“Mom.”
Dean steps
in.
“Let her breathe,” he says, and it takes all Callie
’
s energy not to wrap her arms around him again.

He glances at her with a knowing look, and it dawns on Callie just how much he gets her. He’s aware how the familiarity of this home, his mother, the an
niversary of her parents’ death, all clash with her anxiety of this evening to form one giant, suffocating concoction.

Mrs. Michaels stares at them expectantly, her grin unsettling. Callie can feel the guilt of their lie rising in her chest like an injured
dove. Dean wraps his arm tightly around her. The strength in his embrace, so strong and stable. She glances over at him and he smiles softly at her in understanding, making her wonder how he can know her so well. But he must. He must know that her emotion
s are rising to form a treacherous peak because he
’
s moving her toward the kitchen, pulling her along with him. “Want some wine?” he asks. Without waiting for an answer, he
’
s yelling behind him back into the dining room. “You want wine, Mom?”

“You know whe
re it is. Pour Callie a glass,” she calls after him.

Dean stops once he reaches the brightly-lit kitchen and opens the cupboard housing the glasses, pulls out two wine glasses, and opens the mini wine fridge in the kitchen island to remove a bottle of win
e.

Callie keeps quiet. She watches him as he retrieves a wine opener, expertly uncorks the bottle of Chardonnay, and pours them both a glass. He hands her one and takes his own, then tips it back and downs half of it before pouring himself more.

“You bette
r not be drinking any of that.” His mom calls out from the dining room.

Callie raises a brow and chuckles. Maybe she
’
s not the only one feeling unhinged at the moment.
Was it the kiss? Being here in his home, pretending we
’
re together?
Hmmm… She
’
s not sure
, but she wishes she knew.

 “You okay?” she asks.

Dean takes another swig. “Great,” he says, but he can
’
t say anything further because his mother
’
s pushing her way into the kitchen again.

“Wine is exactly what we need to celebrate. Take that bottle and
another one to the table. Your dad will be down in a minute. He
’
s just cleaning up, and he
’
ll want some, too.”

Dean does as he
’
s told and grabs the open bottle, along with another one, and nods Callie back toward the dining room. They take a seat at the hu
ge mahogany table, scarred from years of homework and art projects.

His mother brings a pan of lasagna out and Mr. Michaels joins them. He
’
s dressed in a soft brown sweater and jeans, and his smile lights up the room. His easy demeanor helps put Callie at
ease. He moves to her first, giving her a quick hug before turning to Jinny, then pats Dean on the shoulder.

Mr. Michaels leads the family in saying grace and Callie allows herself to relax in the familiarity of the routine of the Michaels household. As th
ey begin to eat, Callie continuously peeks at Dean from under her lashes. She purposely avoids looking at his lips, wondering if he is thinking about the kiss—like she is—or if, for him, it was no big thing.

She watches him as he answers his father
’
s quest
ions about school and the basketball team, looking at him with new eyes. He
’
s wearing a pale blue dress shirt with a pair of dark jeans. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, with the fabric straining over the shape of his biceps, revealing muscle that
flickers subtly as he moves his hands. Swallowing, Callie focuses back on her meal.

“
Soooo,
Mom,” Jinny says. “What did you and Dad think about Dean
’
s romantic—” Jinny bats her eyes, exaggerating the word, “—
stunt
he pulled at his game the other night?”

Th
eir mother puts her fork down and grabs her glass of wine. “It was awfully sweet. The article was such a shock. Not really seeing that you
’
re together, but finding out like that…” She shakes her head, as if she can
’
t find the words. “You know, Callie, you
’
ve always been like family, since you were just young, and now…
Well, it
’
s just all the more official. And you two seem…” she trails off.

Dean glances over at Callie. Her guilt is reflected in his eyes, and for a moment, she wonders if lying to his mother
is the right choice.

“You seem so natural together. It
’
s amazing how well you fit. I always knew you would, and I always knew how much Dean—”

“Mom,” Dean
’
s head whips toward his mother. His voice is on edge, and when he speaks it
’
s louder than normal. “We
know, Mom. We
’
re glad that you
’
re happy about it.”

Mrs. Michaels smiles. “Well, Rick made me promise not to prod, but now that you
’
re talking about it,” she says, glancing at her husband, “I have to ask. How did it start? On your part, Callie, how did you
know you wanted to be with Dean? I know that he
’
s—”

“
Mom, don’
t you think asking that
’
s a little strange
?” Jinny interrupts. “I mean, it
’
s kind of nauseating to hear the details.”

Mrs. Michaels
’
face falls. “How is it nauseating? I
’
m not asking what he
’
s l
ike in bed, I
’
m just asking how Callie knew she had feelings for him.”

“Mom!” Jinny gasps.

“Oh, my God,” Deans says, smacking his forehead, his face a deep crimson. “You did
not
just say that.”

Choking on a piece of bread, Callie reaches for her wine and
takes a huge swig.

 “There
’
s not enough wine on the planet for this conversation,” Jinny adds.

“
Well, I
’
m not an idiot. You
’
re both away at school. Jinny and Callie, you both have your own apartment. I know what goes on,” Mrs. Michaels says, eyeing them an
d pushing her shoulders back.

Dean groans again, and Callie fights the urge to sink down in her chair and disappear. Although, she should be grateful. Mrs. Michaels is making it easy for them to look like a believable couple. Nevertheless, Callie needs to
resurrect this conversation before it gets worse. And knowing Mrs. Michaels, she won
’
t stop till she gets what she wants: answers.

“
I don’
t mind sharing how I knew,” she says.