Stakes & Stilettos - Michelle Rowen [22]
It was a goal.
So, what had seemed like a vaguely okay idea a couple of weeks ago—going to the reunion—now was a vital necessity to help me feel as if my life hadn’t gone completely out of control. Even though it had.
Being staked had aged me. Significantly. I felt older and more wary and paranoid than ever before, at least until we reached the border of Abottsville, which, the sign reminded visitors in hand-painted letters, was still “the home of the largest pumpkin in Ontario.” Just seeing that sign helped me to relax a bit.
Just a bit.
“You’re very quiet,” Thierry said.
Wow, if he was commenting on how little I was speaking, considering how little he usually spoke, then I was definitely not acting normally.
“Sorry,” I said. “Just having an internal monologue about life and death.”
“Are you still all right with us coming here?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” I pushed all other thoughts away.
“If you’d rather we turn around and go back to Toronto—”
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. I’m glad to be here. Plus, I really want to see my mom and dad. I can’t wait to introduce them to my wonderful new boyfriend.”
“And since he couldn’t make it, what will they think of me?”
I eyed him. “Was that a joke?”
“An attempt.”
One thing Thierry didn’t really possess was a funny bone. I’d searched. I’d found nothing. But it was sweet of him to try.
We were to check into the motel and then go for a superquick visit with my parents, who didn’t know their only child was a vampire, and I’d prefer it stayed that way. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Or me.
Then tonight we’d go to the reunion dance. There had actually been a couple of days of reunion-related activities, but too much of a good thing is not good at all. It was the dance, a little schmoozing, and then it was over, and ideally I’d get rid of this vampire-related funk I was going through and feel better about life, liberty, and the pursuit of vampiric happiness.
Mom had offered to let us stay with them in my old bedroom—even though she’d made it clear that she didn’t approve of us sharing the same room out of wedlock (her words)—but I decided that a motel room would be the best option for all involved.
The motel was the only one in town, the Abottsville Motor Inn with an adjoining restaurant called the Breakfast Nook. It was just as classy as it sounded.
The room itself was what the management considered a “luxury suite” and did boast a king-sized bed underneath an oh-so-elegant ceiling mirror. I normally would have found that terribly amusing, especially with the irony that vamps didn’t have reflections, but instead it just seemed embarrassing.
Once the supreme tackiness had settled in, I hung the dress I’d borrowed from Amy in the closet, threw my overnight bag in the corner, and checked the bedsheets for any potential cockroach infestations. Then I had a quick shower and freshened up my makeup using my shard compact mirror, which Thierry had bought me as an early Valentine’s Day gift. Vampires didn’t normally have reflections, but a shard wasn’t a regular mirror. It was very special and very expensive and I could see myself just fine and dandy in it. I had a bigger one on the wall at George’s house, but it wasn’t exactly portable.
Thierry waited for me as I finished up. I’d decided for casual comfort by wearing dark blue jeans and a fuzzy white sweater under my winter coat.
Then we headed across town. It only took five minutes before I could see my parents’ house looming large on the horizon at the end of a cul-de-sac. I frowned. The driveway was full of cars. This was supposed to be a short visit with just my mom and dad. Who else had they invited?
Thierry pulled the Audi alongside the curb and gave me a look. “What is going on, Sarah?”
I got out of the car and felt the cold winter breeze on my face. A few flakes of snow were falling.