Falling for the Ghost of You (4 page)

“They’re going to see all the candy wrappers I left in there,” Mom whispers anxiously after she hands the guy her keys.  “We’ll look like slobs!”

“We are.”  I try to shrug it off, already starting to feel nervous.

A man in a suit opens the big glass doors for us ,smiling and gesturing for us to go on in.  Mom grabs my hand and pulls me forward, over to the little alcove where a model-like young woman is standing behind a fancy glass lectern.

“Welcome to the Four Seasons,” she greets us with a professional smile.  “Do you have a
reservation?”

“Um, yes.  I’m Lily Mercer,” Mom says timidly, tucking a lock of hair behind an ear.  “I believe the reservation is under O’ Connor.  Bill O’ Connor.”

I don’t like the superior look the toothpick girl bestows upon my mother.  “Yes, Mr. O’ Connor is already here.  Follow me, please.”

I don’t miss the snide up and down look she gives me, either.  She exchanges smirks with another stunning girl who we pass by on our way to be seated.  I can’t help but feel self-conscious.  Do we have signs on our foreheads saying we don’t’ belong?  Is it our cheap-looking shoes?

Why couldn’t we have gone to Taco Bill’s?  I’ve already been dumped there.  It can’t possibly get more humiliating than that.  Right?

The interior of the restaurant is all shiny dark wood and glass.  The bar is off to the left, full of well-dressed people.  Mom and I follow Toothpick Girl as she expertly weaves her way through tables.  Please don’t let me trip!

She shows us to a table next to a window that displays the setting sun casting pink and gold rays over the water.  The man sitting at the table half-rises at our approach.

“Enjoy your meal,” Toothpick Girl says to me with another smirk. 

“Thanks,” I say sweetly.  “Enjoy your…waitressing.”

I turn away before she can react.  Whatever.  I don’t know why she thinks she’s so fancy.  My attention returns to the man—Bill.  My mother’s fiancée and my future step daddy.

Bill is not the powerful corporate tycoon I imagined.  He’s really good-looking, but not in that rich sophisticated way I was expecting.  He looks so young in his casual shirt and jeans, and kind of scruffy-looking, with longish red gold hair and an unlined, unshaven face.  His ice blue eyes never quite look me in the eye, just a quick glance here and there if I ask him a question.

So I find out that Bill actually created the Arpeggio OS—which is what I use on my phone!  Mom goes on and on about how revolutionary it is, more user friendly and interactive than any of its predecessors.  As if I didn’t know!  It’s so cute how she gushes on about his accomplishments, while he just remains quiet, occasionally looking at her and smiling.  I find myself really liking him.  He’s not what I expected at all, and I’m relieved.  I like his silent awkwardness.  He’ll fit right in with us.

“So where is Zane?”  Mom asks after taking a sip of her iced tea.  “I think they’re going to come for our order soon.”

Bill barely looks up when he says.  “He said he was going to be late, so we should go ahead and start without him.”

“You’ll like him, Violet,” Mom tells me, her eyes twinkling excitedly.  “He’s
only a few years older than you
, and he’s…he’s a software engineer, right Bill?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Bill mutters, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.  I picture a younger geekier version of Bill.

“Zane lives in L.A., but he’s going to be staying at the pool house so he can supervise the renovations while we’re in Europe.  Isn’t that nice of him?  In fact—before I forget—let me give you his number, Violet.  You can call him if
you need help with anything.  Zan
e’s going to be working on some pr
oject for work, but I’m sure h
e won’t mind if you give him a call once in a while.”

Mom digs through her purse for her phone.  When she finds it, she makes me put his number into my phone.  I have no intention of ever calling him, but I do as she asks, since I know it will help her worry less about leaving me for a month.

Four waiters come to take our order—I’m not sure why.  I decide on the tempura shrimp, which I had in Hawaii and enjoyed.  Despite my nerves, I’m starting to feel a little hungry.  This atmosphere, while beautiful and posh, is not the most relaxing.  I wish I could just get some fast food and take it home.  I wish I could sulk over Matt in private, instead of pasting a smile on my face that feels like it’s going to break into a million pieces any minute.  I’m honestly thrilled for Mom, but watching her and Bill exchange secret smiles and glances…it’s just too
lovey
dovey
for me right now. 

I have the sudden urge to jump up and shout, “I’ve been dumped!  Screw you all!”

Will this night never end?  I surreptitiously text Lauren, keeping my phone in my lap.

Me:  Bill is cute!  And nice.

Lauren:  Really?  What does he look like?

Me:  Young, kind of scruffy-looking.  He created Arpeggio!

Lauren:  !!!  A cute, rich, genius?  Your mom really scored.

Me:  I know!  This restaurant is really snooty.

Lauren:  Better get used to it.  What’s the son like?

Me:  He’s not here yet.  Sounds like he’s going to be a computer
ge

“Sorry I’m late.”

The warm deep voice startles me.  I look up from my phone, and my jaw drops open.

My eyes meet a pair of gorgeous dark ones.

Hot Guy!

“Oh, crap!” I shout.

******

Chapter 5

So, turns out Hot Guy is Zane O’ Connor, son of Bill, and my future brother-in-law.  Yes, really, because that’s my kind of luck.

After my initial outburst, I clamp my mouth shut and stare down at my lap.  I
can’t help sneaking glanc
es at him, though.  Hot Guy—Zane—is just as impossibly beautiful as I remember.  He looks really good in the white shirt and jeans he’s wearing—casual and effortlessly elegant. 

I have his shirt ha
nging up in my closet right now
.
  In the Hot Guy Hall of Fame section.

He gives my mom a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, then slaps Bill on the back in greeting.  My heart flutters nervously when he takes the empty seat next to me.  I angle my face away, wishing I had left my hair down so I can hide my red cheeks behind it.  This could not get more embarrassing.

“Zane, this is my daughter, Violet,” Mom introduces us.  “I was just telling her all about you.”

“Good things, I hope,” he says easily.  I sense him turn to me.  “It’s nice to finally meet you, Violet,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his sexy voice.

“Uh-huh,” I say faintly, looking everywhere but at him.  I see Mom’s eyebrows go up at my rudeness, but I am suffering here!

“Zane, why don’t you go ahead and order something,” Mom says, while giving me the silent “what’s wrong with you?” look.

“Great idea.  I’m starving.”  He flags down
one of our waiters with an authoritative
ease I can’t help but admire.

A sudden silence descends on our table like a wet blanket.  Mom and I seem to be the only ones bothered by it
—w
hich is bad.  One of us is bound to break and start babbling senselessly.

"So, Zane, doesn't Violet have a nice tan?" Mom says, smiling desperately.  "She just came back from Hawaii."

"Oh, yeah?"  He leans forward, resting an arm on the table.  "Which island?"

Oh, wow, he smells so good!

"Oahu," I mumble shortly.

I know Mom is waiting for me to elaborate, but I don't.  She tries to catch my eye.  I pretend to be fascinated with my fork.  I can feel her growing more and more flustered by my
unfriendliness.

"Yes, she worked as a stripper in her grandmother's bakery!" she blurts out.

Wh
at?!

It's so unfortunate that my mouth is full of rice right now. Why did I take such a big bite?  It's taking forever to chew!

"Stripping in a bakery, huh?" Zane says with a ridiculously adorable half smile.  "That's pretty awesome."

I just keep shaking my head in a tiny mortified sort of way.  "I don't...I'm not a stripper," I stumble over my words, hideously embarrassed.

Mom's eyes are huge right now.  "Oh, no!" she gasps.  "Did I just call you a
stripper
?!"

Indeedly-doodly
, Mother.

"I'm not," I scoff to Zane and Bill.  "That's so...why would you say that, Mom?"

I didn't really see a resemblance between father and son.  Not until they both start coughing behind their fists.

"I'
m so sorry!  I don't know why—t
hings just slip out when I'm really nervous.  Violet is the furthes
t thing from a hooker there is—
"

Aaaaauughh
!

"Stripper, Mom," I say through gritted teeth.

We never look more like mother and daughter than when our faces are the color of humiliation.

"Right," Mom is saying.  Her hands are actually shaking now!  "She is not a hooker or a stripper.  In fact, today she just told me she's a virgin."

It can't get any worse.  It just cannot.

For some reason, I find myself staring at Bill.  He catches my eye.  "Good for you, Violet," he says awkwardly.

Mom shoots me a horror-filled look.  "I think I should go to the bathroom," she whispers.

I rub my throbbing temples.  "Please do."

Both guys stand up when she excuses herself.  Bill stares after her indecisively for a second, then mutters something and goes after her.  I stare longingly towards the exit.  If i made a run for it now, who could blame me?  Not the woman who called me a hooker and a stripper, that's for damn sure.

"So, Violet."  Zane turns his chair in my direction.  "Is your day getting better yet?"

"Pretty sure it's getting worse as we speak," I say.

He laughs, displaying brilliant white even teeth, and a sudden jolt of attraction sizzles through me, sending my pulse skittering out of control.

Matt who?

I can't believe I'm here, sitting in this fancy ass restaurant, talking to this guy, who is easily the best-
looking person I've ever seen—a
nd he's my future step brother.  I d
on't know how to act around him.
  Nice?  Flirty?  Or should I just continue making a fool of myself?

Yeah, that sounds like more fun.

Zane's dark eyes are sparkling with humor.  "Come on," he says.  "It's not that bad, is it?"

"Oh, let's see."  I stare up at the fancy glass ball lamps hanging from the ceiling.  "I got dumped at Taco Bill's today; fell down, split my pants, and generally humiliated myself in front of a complete stranger; went to dinner at a snooty restaurant, found out said stranger is my future step brother; got called a stripper, hooker, and virgin by my
mother
...did I leave anything out?"

"Well, I don't kn
ow.  The night is still young—a
nything could happen."  The corners of his  beautiful mouth twitch upwards.  "It can only get better, right?"

I frown.  "Don't say that, you'll jinx me.   Now my mom will come back and blurt out how she and Bill had kinky bathroom sex, and I'll run away before she can go into detail, and trip over that waiting
carrying that flaming dessert—h
e'll go crashing into the lady with way too much product in her hair, and then the whole restaurant will be on fire."

Zane just looks at me for a moment, as if unsure what to say.  He probably hangs out with gorgeous super confident women all the time, and I'm like a new species of insect to him.  The neurotic kind that fly into your face, and freak out when you try to swat at them.

"So, you got dumped, huh?"

I wince.  Me and my big dumb mouth.  "Yup."

"Hey, it happens to the best of us.  Hang in there, you'll find someone new in no time."

I peer over at him.  "Are you reading from a list
of
the ten worst clichés, ever?"

"Saved the best for last:  there's plenty of fish in the sea.”  Zane shrugs good-naturedly.  So some asshole dumped
you at a Taco Bill's.  Do you really think he was the love of your life?"

A waitress sets his food in front of him.  She is pretty and bold, striking up a random conversation about the weather, all the while flashing the "do me" eyes.

When she finally leaves, I raise an eyebrow at him.  "Have you ever been dumped before?"

He looks up from his plate, that cute half smile on his face.  "Is this a trick question?"

"I thought so."  I go back to poking at my food with a fork.

"Alright," he says.  "Tell me one thing you didn't like about your ex."

"He has tiny girl wrists," I say promptly.  "They're so delicate, he should model, like, tennis bracelets for a jewelry store.  It really bothered me.  And he would make these huge spit bubbles whenever he'd get excited and talk.  I used to worry the bubble would explode, and splatter me in the face.  So gross."