Mama’s Boy by Avery Flynn
Chapter Thirty-Five
Fiona
Fionahad no idea what she’d been thinking. Playing with fire? How about playing with a flaming ball of hot magma? Standing here with a belly full of delicious barbecue—five out of five stars on Griff’s sauce—and telling her sad-sack dating stories to Dixon was the opposite of New Fiona. It was old Fiona to a T.
And this is why you can’t be trusted to have sex with him again. If you do, you’ll be spilling even more and building one-way bonds that will only result in getting your heart stomped on—again—because you’re too gullible.
Her inner voice, per usual, was an asshole but an asshole that was right.
They’d been docked for five minutes at least. Yet instead of heading out of here, she was in one of the most romantic settings ever trying—and failing—to not bond with the guy she knew firsthand was a total jerk. Seriously. She really couldn’t trust herself because all she could do was picture a teenage Dixon watching old movies with his mom while she was receiving chemo treatments. She couldn’t hate that guy. She couldn’t even dislike him. Especially not when it was the same guy who so obviously loved his cousins, adored his mom, and spoke to everyone from the captain on down to the guy busking outside of the train station with the same level of respect and kindness.
That wasn’t the Dixon Beckett she was supposed to be dating in order to help her nana.
That was just the kind of guy she would fall for.
Fiona, you need to get your head straight.
“I gotta go,” she said, walking over to the coat tree and grabbing her coat.
“So soon?” he asked as he reached for his own jacket.
She nodded, more thankful than ever for her overly involved family. “I promised my mom I’d be early for family brunch tomorrow.”
After giving their thank-yous to the crew and the captain, she and Dixon walked through the leaf-strewn sidewalk toward the train station.
“Your family is close?” he asked as they passed by the Pink Ladies Tea Emporium.
A group of people, each with the same book, sat crowded around the large table in front of the picture window. Everyone seemed to be talking at once while a harried waitress took down their orders. It reminded her of all the Hartigans smooshed together around the kitchen table in a house where the decibel level was always way too high.
“Sometimes too much,” she said, slowing her steps as much as she could without being obvious as they approached the station on the corner. “It’s, well…you just have to experience it for yourself.”
He reached out to her, offering his hand for her to hold as she navigated a section of sidewalk slick with slimy wet leaves. Her foot slipped and she slid forward, squeezing Dixon’s hand. They held tight onto each other in silence as they negotiated the treacherous section of the sidewalk, both of them going this way and that so often that they were giggling like her third graders by the time they got to the stairs that led down to the station.
“So was that an invitation to meet your family?” he asked, still holding on to her hand.
She almost went down right on her ass again, not because of the slick leaves but because of the question. Dammit. Could she just be a Fallon for one single date in her entire life?
That was when it hit her.
Nana would be at brunch this week. It would be the perfect opportunity to have her show off some of her products, since Fiona couldn’t seem to stop being all lusty over her date to talk about them. Then, when all these dates were over and Fiona put in her pitch for Nana’s skincare line, he’d be more open to it.
“Yes,” she said, ignoring the voice in her head warning her that she was only looking for an excuse to give that answer. “You are officially invited to the Hartigans’ weekly brunch.”
“What time do you want me to pick you up?” he asked as people passed by them in a hurry to get down to the station and out of the cold.
“Is nine too early?” That would make sure that even with traffic, they would be at the house early enough for a Nana show-and-tell.
He nodded. “That’s perfect.”
They stood there, the weight of the end-of-the-date moment heavy in the air around them. She was already raising herself up on her tiptoes when she realized and stopped herself before she could go in for a goodbye kiss that would keep her warm the whole ride home. She wasn’t ready for this. Her outer shell was still too soft.
“See you tomorrow,” she managed to get out before hustling down the stairs and away from the biggest temptation for Old Fiona she’d ever encountered—one she was determined to resist.
