Too Good to Be True - Kristan Higgins [130]
A date. The pediatric surgeon was asking me out on a date. A burst of hysterical laughter surged up my throat, but I clamped down on it just in time. “Um…wow, that’s really nice of you.” I took a quick breath. “The truth is, I’m…”
“Married?” he said with a no-hard-feelings shrug.
“No, no. I just broke up with someone, and I’m not over him yet.”
“Well. I understand.”
We were quiet for a second, both of us mildly embarrassed. “Oh, here comes Tommy,” I said, relieved.
“Excellent. It was great meeting you, Grace. Thanks again for all you did for my son.”
Tommy enveloped me in a hug. “Bye, Ms. Em,” he said. “You’re the best teacher here. I’ve had a crush on you since my first day of class.”
I hugged him back chastely, my eyes wet. “I’ll really miss you, buddy,” I said honestly. “Write to me, okay?”
“You bet! Have a great summer!”
And with that, my favorite student and his pediatric surgeon dad left, leaving me more bemused than ever.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“AHAHAHA. AHAHAHA. OOOH. Ahahaha.” Mom’s society laugh rang out loud and false over the table.
“Hoohoohoohoo!” Andrew’s mother, not to be out-faked, chortled right back. From the other side of the table, Margaret kicked me meaningfully, making me wince in pain.
“Aren’t you glad you’re not marrying into that family?” she hissed.
“So glad,” I whispered back.
“Margaret, are you drunk?” Mémé asked her loudly. “I had a cousin who couldn’t hold her liquor, either. Disgraceful. In my day, a lady never overindulged.”
“Aren’t you glad those days are gone now, Mémé?” Margaret quipped. “Would you like another Rusty Nail, by the way?”
“Thank you, dear,” Mémé said, mollified. Margaret signaled the waiter, then made a mocking toast to me.
“Oh, yes, a toast!” Natalie cried. “Honey, make a toast!”
Andrew stood up, his parents gazing at him with servan-tile adoration. “This is such a happy day for us,” he said. Awkwardly. His eyes paused on me, then moved on. “Nattie and I are so happy. And we’re so happy that you’re all here to share our happiness.”
“I know I’m happy,” I muttered to Margs, rolling my eyes.
“Hardly a great orator, is he?” she said, loud enough for our mother to hear. Mom covered with another round of “Ahahaha. Ahahaha. Oooh. Ahahaha.”
The waiter appeared with our appetizers. Looking up, I saw it was Cambry. “Hey!” I exclaimed. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” he said, grinning.
“I hear we’re all having dinner next week chez Julian.”
“If he doesn’t bolt,” Cambry answered, setting down the oysters Rockefeller in front of me.
Julian was in a relationship. Granted, the mere word caused him stomach cramps and a cold sweat, but he was dating, and even he couldn’t find much fault with Cambry, who was waiting tables while he finished law school.
“You hang in there,” I said. “You’re good for him. He hardly ever wants to come over and watch Dancing with the Stars these days. I should probably hate you.”
“Do you?” he asked, raising a concerned eyebrow.
“No, of course not. But you have to share. He’s been my best friend since high school.”
“Duly noted,” he said.
“Grace, I thought the oysters here caused food poisoning,” Mémé bellowed, causing a nearby diner to spit abruptly into his napkin.
“No, no!” I said loudly. “No. They’re great. So fresh!” I smiled encouragingly to the napkin spitter and took a bite as he watched nervously.
“Well, didn’t they just about kill your doctor?” Mémé asked, turning to the Carsons, who were smiling politely. “He was in the toilet for twenty minutes,” she informed them, as if they hadn’t been there. “The trots, you know. My second husband had stomach problems. We couldn’t leave the house some days! And the smell!”
“It was so bad, the cat fainted,” Margaret intoned.
“It was so bad, the cat fainted!” Mémé announced.
“Okay, Mother,” Dad said, his face burning. “Perhaps that’s enough.”
“Ahahaha. Ahahaha. Oooh. Ahahaha,” laughed Mom, her eyes murderous upon her mother-in-law, who was knocking back another cocktail. Personally, I’d never been fonder of Mémé, for some reason. Cambry was struggling unsuccessfully