Читать книгу Rom-Com Collection - Kristan Higgins - Страница 29

“GOOD MORNING,” IAN said the next day as I staggered into the kitchen. My legs were still a little weak from all that happiness. Bowie crooned me a morning song, and I petted his big furry head.

“Hi,” I said to both my guys.

“Would you like some coffee?” he asked, already opening a cupboard for a mug from the mishmash selection therein.

“Sure,” I answered.

“Last night was incredible.” He smiled at me, and my heart practically rolled over onto its back, like Bowie offering himself up.

“Yes, it was,” I said, grinning back.

Ian poured me some joe, then added cream and sugar. “Even though you’re already so sweet,” he said, stirring the coffee.

“Oh, my God. Are you flirting?” I asked.

“This is what I get for trying,” he grumbled. But his eyes were happy.

Just then his cell phone rang. Ian glanced at the screen. His face froze. Laura? I wondered. We hadn’t talked about her since the wedding … He picked up the receiver. “Hi, Jane.”

I went on full alert. Could it be his aunt?

“I’m fine, and you?” Ian said, not looking at me. “Okay. Great. Sure. Seven o’clock. Do you need directions? Okay. See you then.” He closed his phone and stared at the counter for a second. I waited, not saying anything. My patience was rewarded.

“That was my aunt,” he said. “She’s in Boston and wants to come up and have dinner tonight.”

“Great,” I said, nodding. “Is Alejandro coming?” I couldn’t resist saying that with a full-blown Spanish accent, and Ian gave a little smile.

“No, just Jane.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, his smile fading. “Would you like to meet her?” he asked.

“Yes! Absolutely!” I said. “Want me to cook?”

“No, no. That’s fine. I’ll pick something up.”

“Ian, you can’t give her dinner from some store. Would she rather eat out? We could go to Elements. Dave would treat us like royalty.”

“She doesn’t believe in restaurants. Too much waste.”

“Oh. Well, then I’ll cook. I’d be happy to, okay?”

He took a deep breath. “Callie,” he said slowly. “I know you’re going to try to make a good impression and do your thing—”

“My thing?” I asked.

“Make her your new best friend.”

I snorted. “Ian, I don’t try … people just like me. Because I’m so nice, remember?”

“I do. But she won’t like you.”

That gave me pause. “Why?”

He squinted. “She’s … a very passionate person, and … well, she doesn’t really approve of me, and she’ll think you’re … uh …” He winced.

“Okay, forget me for a second. How can she not approve of you?” I asked. “You’re her nephew, her brother’s boy. I’ll bet she adores you.”

He took a sip of his coffee. “She wanted me to become a doctor, and the fact that I didn’t is tough for her.”

“Well, I’m sure she’s very proud of you anyway, Ian,” I said, giving him a hug. “You’re so smart! And so handsome! And you have all those special skills, like making dogs love you and killing people with your little finger—”

“You’re babbling,” he said, but there was a smile in his voice.

“Well, whatever the case may be, I’ll make dinner, okay? Give me your key, and I’ll come over and get everything ready, and it will be wonderful. Is she a vegetarian?”

“Vegan, I’m afraid.”

“So tofu it is. I can do tofu.” I kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t worry. We’ll have fun.”

TWELVE HOURS LATER, we were not having fun.

My first impression had been good—I watched as Ian greeted his aunt on the driveway, giving her a hug, which she returned. She held his face in her hands and smiled hugely … the Look how you’ve grown thing I did on an almost daily basis with Bronte and Josephine. See? I mentally told my honey. She’s crazy about you.

And then they came in, and the impression started to head south.

“Jane, this is Callie Grey,” Ian said. “Callie, my aunt Jane.”

“I wasn’t aware you were seeing anyone, Ian,” his aunt said, glancing at him as if startled.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Dr. McFarland,” I said, smiling. She was small and very lean, pleasant face, gray hair, somewhere in her late sixties. “Ian’s told me a lot about you.”

“Mmm,” she said. She wandered into the great room, taking a look around. “So, Ian, this is your home. My, my. Very … expensive-looking.”

Okay … a veiled compliment at best.

“Would you like some wine, Jane?” Ian asked.

“I’d love some,” she said, not looking up from her perusal of his bookcase. “What is that strange smell?”

I bit my lip. “Um … dinner?”

“Ah. And what are we having?”

I brightened, sure my dinner would impress. “Well, I made sure everything was vegan, since Ian said you were—”

“Not anymore, actually,” she said, taking her wine from her nephew. “Too difficult, given where I’m living. Côte d’Ivoire. There’s just not enough agriculture in the area, so I’ve been eating eggs and dairy.”

“Oh,” I said. “Okay, well, we’re eating vegan tonight. Beet ravioli with a fava bean sauce, sweet and sour cauliflower …” Nothing that a human would willingly eat, in other words “… and, um … a salad. And chocolate cake.”

“Sounds like we could feed an entire African village with that,” she murmured.

“Here you go, Callie.” Ian handed me a glass of wine. His face was neutral.

“So! Ian! Tell me how things are with you,” Jane said, settling on the couch and ignoring the guacamole I’d made.

“Things are good,” he said, sitting across from her.

“Any plans to finish your education?” She smiled brightly.

Ian glanced at me. “I did a year of med school before switching to the vet program,” he explained. “No, Jane. No plans to go back.”

She shook her head. “That’s such a shame,” she said. “Cassie, let me ask you. If you could choose between healing sick children or treating an overbred golden retriever, which would you pick?”

Youch! I set my own wineglass on the coffee table. “Actually, my name is Callie,” I corrected, glancing at Ian. “And I’d choose the profession I really loved, I guess.”

“Mmm,” she said. “And what is it that you do, Callie, is it?”

“Yes. Short for Calliope. I’m the creative director at an advertising agency.”

“Do you find that rewarding? Getting American consumers to buy more … stuff?” She raised an eyebrow.

I paused. “Well, I do, actually. I love my job.”

“Mmm.”

Now, not to toot my own horn, but the number of people who didn’t like me were … well, Muriel and now Jane McFarland. If Muriel and I had met without both loving the same guy, things might’ve been different. We both loved shoes, after all, the basis of many a female friendship. But Jane … she was tough.

“So Ian told me you don’t get back to the States too often,” I offered. Angie came over and sat faithfully next to me.

“That’s right. Too much to do, too little time, too little money to fund the programs that could save lives. It’s a shame.” She looked around the room. “The cost of your dog alone, Ian, would’ve probably fed a family for a year.”

“I didn’t pay for Angie. She’s a rescue,” he said. “As is Callie’s dog.” He glanced at me with a little smile.

“You rescued Angie?” I asked.

He nodded. “Her first owner abused her.”

“You poor thing,” I said to the pretty dog. She wagged her tail. Jane didn’t comment.

“How’s Alé?” Ian asked. “I haven’t talked to him in a few weeks.”

“He’s wonderful.” Jane turned to me. “My son, Cassie, is a doctor in a small village in Honduras. You should visit, Ian.”

“I’m planning to,” he answered. I looked at him, but he didn’t elaborate. Then he said a few lines in rapid-fire Spanish—it was strange, hearing him burst into another language just like that. Jane answered, and then Ian said something else. I didn’t catch anything (the only Spanish I knew was from watching Sesame Street when Josephine was little, and since Ian and Jane didn’t seem to be counting to ten, I was lost). I did get one word, however … Callie. I hoped Ian was setting her straight on my name.

“Sorry,” he murmured to me when they were done.

“Ian, how’s … what’s-her-name … Laura?” Dr. McFarland asked.

“She’s fine,” Ian answered. He hesitated, then said, “She got married a few weeks ago.”

“Well, I hope you learned something. Don’t go rushing into anything. Marriage ties you down. Limits your options. And in case you did finally have a change of heart, you’d be able to finish medical school, no strings attached.” She gave me a look, making it clear just who the strings were.

“I don’t see a change of heart in the future, Jane,” Ian said.

“Never say never.”

“Were you ever married, Dr. McFarland?” I asked, hoping to shift gears a little.

She looked at me as if just remembering I was there, then took a sip of wine. “Very briefly.”

Okay. This was indeed a challenge. “So,” I offered, groping for a more neutral topic. “Ian told me you met Bono.”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “Yes. Why? Do you want tickets to a concert?”

“Can you get me some?” I returned instantly. No smile from either McFarland. Okay. No jokes, then. “Just kidding,” I muttered. “It’s just that he’s very … um … famous.”

Ian’s cell bleated softly. “Excuse me. I’m on call,” he said, checking his phone as he walked to the den, shutting the door behind him. Maybe he’d arranged for Carmella to call him … God knows I would have.

I eyed Ian’s relative a bit warily. “I really admire what you do, Dr. McFarland,” I said, hoping we could bond with Ian out of the room.

“No need,” she said, waving her hand.

“Um … no need for what?”

“No need to stroke my ego.” My mouth opened, but she kept talking. “Listen. I’m sure you’re very … adorable and whatnot, but if you’re looking for my blessing, you won’t get it. I still have high hopes for Ian, despite his … choices … thus far. He’s not meant to be a vet. He’s certainly smart enough to be a physician. So you’ll have to forgive me if I want more for him, Cassie. He has a destiny.”

“It’s Callie,” I said, a bit tightly. “As in Calliope, Homer’s muse. Just to clarify.”

“Mmm.”

I took a breath. “Were you and your brother close?” I asked, figuring a change in subject couldn’t hurt.

She gave me an assessing look. “We were close as children. As adults, not so much.”

“It must’ve been hard, taking in a little boy when—”

“It wasn’t hard at all, Callie. Ian was no bother, and Alejandro, my son—” I know who he is, lady, I wanted to say, but held my tongue “—was already nearly grown. Ian just came along and never made a peep.”

I was well able to picture Ian as a kid, not making a peep, lonely and scared after his parents died, leaving behind everything he knew. My throat tightened.

Jane sighed and took another sip of wine. “Who could believe that after all I showed him he’d end up … here?”

I glanced at the closed door to the den. “Dr. McFarland,” I said carefully, “after losing his parents and, um … moving so much as a kid, maybe Ian just wants a normal life. And just because he didn’t become a doctor doesn’t mean he’s a bad person. He—”

“Dear, I don’t need a lecture on my nephew from someone he met, what … a month ago? Two?”

I bit my tongue. Hard. Wondered when the hell Ian’s phone call would wrap up. God forbid he was called out and left me alone with Jane.

As if answering my silent prayer, Ian emerged from the den. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Callie, would you help me in the kitchen for a minute?”

“Absolutely,” I said, faking a smile. I followed him into the kitchen as Jane got up to once again peruse Ian’s décor.

“Look,” Ian said quietly, “you don’t need to defend me or explain anything or win her undying love. Okay?”

“Well, it’s very hard to listen to this,” I whispered.

“I told you she wouldn’t like you. And she won’t, unless you become a doctor and move to the third world. So can you just try to get along?”

“I am trying, Ian!” He said nothing, just stared at me. “Okay. Fine. I’ll try harder.”

“Thank you,” he said tightly.

We returned to the living room. This time, I made sure to sit next to Ian on the couch.

“So you love it here,” Jane said.

“Yes,” he answered.

“The foliage was incredible on the drive up,” she commented.

Ian glanced quickly at me, then turned to his aunt. “If you want to stay for a few days, we could see the sights. Go hiking, maybe,” he offered, and it might’ve been my sentimental streak, but for a second, I thought I saw a flash of the little guy who’d lost his parents, hoping to find someone to love him.

“You could use my kayak,” I said. Maybe if Jane stayed, she and Ian could have a nice day or two, and her disapproval would ease. “There are so many incredible rivers and lakes up here. It’s really beautiful. Well, we Vermonters think so.” Ian gave me a small, quick smile.

“I won’t have time. I’ll be leaving tonight, in fact,” she said, ignoring both offers. “I’m trying to get Pfizer to donate more antibiotics to our program, and I have a meeting in New York tomorrow.” She raised her eyebrows meaningfully at her nephew. “Want to come? See how the drug companies rape the poor?”

Ian’s face went back to neutral. “I’ll have to pass.”

“Mmm,” she said.

Okay. While it was undeniable that Jane McFarland did great things, she wasn’t the easiest person to like. My left eye started to throb as I listened to her continue with her thinly veiled criticism. Ian just sat there, seemingly unaffected, but the urge to defend him swelled in my heart. I actually had to clamp my lips shut to keep from saying anything.

Dinner was painfully awkward, not to mention nasty … the ravioli tasted like a combination between burnt coffee scrapings and rope. As for the sweet and sour cauliflower … need I say more? It was definitely a culinary “don’t.” Jane was on her fourth attempt to convince Ian to return to medical school so he, like Perfect Alejandro, could follow in her holy work. The thing was, her work was holy, there was no denying that. But she couldn’t seem to accept that Ian didn’t want the same thing.

She didn’t touch the cake I’d baked. I couldn’t blame her for that. Note to self—tofu and chocolate do not a happy marriage make. Sighing, I stirred a spoonful of sugar into my coffee.

“Dear, you should read about what conditions are like for sugarcane workers,” she said, finally addressing me. “Well, that’s condescending of me. Perhaps you already know.”

“I don’t,” I admitted, suppressing a sigh.

“No, I don’t suppose you do,” she murmured. “Most Americans don’t.” Strike 10,006 against Callie/Cassie … she put sugar in her coffee, the ignorant, disgusting American.

And then … and then we heard a little chirp. For a second, I didn’t realize what it was … not until my sister’s voice boomed into our lovely evening.

“Callie! Guess what! I just had sex! It was amazing!”

“Excuse me!” I lunged from the table. Shit! Earlier today, I’d used the push to talk feature, as the walkie-talkie method tended to work better out here by the lake. Alas … oh, alas! … I’d forgotten to turn it off.

“I mean, sure,” Hester continued, “I’ve, you know, felt things. I own a vibrator, after all. But this was much better than anything you can buy online, you know?”

Where was my purse, dammit all to hell? Counter? No. Desk? No! Ah, right, over there by the back door. Hester’s thunderous voice continued to detonate from the depths of my vast orange bag. “Seriously! I thought I was going to end up clinging to the ceiling by my fingernails! I know you said you were doing the vet, and he does seem hot, but listen … I hope he’s half as good as Louis.”

“Holy crap!” I blurted. I jerked open my purse and shoveled through the debris for my phone. Tampon, paperback, picture of Bronte and Josephine, wallet. No phone. Come on!

“Callie? You there? Well, anyway, just wanted to share the big news. I’m screwing a mortician and yes, it really is true. They do it stiffer.” My hand closed around the phone. “Gotta go. I think I’m up for round two! Bye!”

I stabbed the off button. The quiet was deafening … not that I could hear anyway, the way my pulse was roaring in my ears. I returned the phone to my purse and took a breath.

“Guess what?” I said. “My sister has a boyfriend.”

Neither of them said a word. Angie, however, wagged her plumy tail. I was grateful.

Back to the table I went, face flaming. Finished off that glass of wine, oh, yes I did. It was the only friendly thing at the table. “Sorry about that,” I muttered.

“What a lovely family you must have,” Jane said, raising her eyebrow.

“You know what?” I snapped. “They are lovely. I have a great family. We love each other, we accept each other, we don’t sit around once a year talking about how disappointed we are in each other.”

“Callie,” Ian said in a low voice.

I ignored him. “My sister may be a little, well … weird, but she’s a great mother to both her kids. She’d never try to make them feel like they’d let her down.”

“Callie,” Ian said again.

Jane, however, simply looked amused. “Oh, no, speak your mind, dear.”

I swallowed and unclenched my fists. “I just think maybe … maybe you should stop telling Ian what he should do with his life. He lost his parents when he was little—”

“She knows what happened, Callie,” Ian said quietly.

“—and maybe you should stop trying to convert him to your mission and just back off.”

Ian closed his eyes briefly. The kitchen clock ticked. Angie sighed.

“Well,” Jane said, unfazed. “I guess we know where Cassie stands.”

I waited for Ian to correct her. He didn’t.

“Okay,” I said, standing. My hip bumped the table, sloshing my untouched, sugary coffee. “Um, I have to run. It was good to meet you, Dr. McFarland. Have a safe trip back. Ian …” My heart was thudding so hard I thought I might barf, and not because I’d eaten beet ravioli (though surely that didn’t help matters). “See you soon, I’m sure.”

He cut his eyes to me, and for the first time since I met him, I saw that he was angry. My chest tightened. How could he be mad at me? I defended him! I thought he was pretty damn wonderful.

“Actually, I’m the one who should go,” Jane said calmly, rising from the table. “I’m heading to Manchester Airport. That’s not too far, is it?”

“I’ll get you directions,” Ian said. “Come in the den, Jane.” He glanced over at me, his eyes still hot, and led his aunt into the other room.

Was I supposed to stay? It didn’t seem right to just walk out right now, while they were looking up directions on Google. Because I wasn’t sure what else to do, I cleared the table, tossing Jane’s untouched cake into the trash with more force than was necessary. Loaded the dishwasher. Ian always put all the forks in one quadrant of the silverware holder, all the spoons in another, the knives in a third … you know what? I mixed them all up. So there. Swallowed against the sharp lump of tears in my throat. Listened to them talking in Spanish. Point taken. We don’t want you to know what we’re talking about.

They came back into the great room a few minutes later. “Well, it’s certainly been interesting meeting you, Callie,” Ian’s aunt said matter-of-factly.

“Same here,” I said. Interesting didn’t come close.

“Thank you for cooking, dear.” She didn’t seem to be making fun of me.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll walk you to the car, Jane.” Ian held the door, and out they went. I took a deep breath, felt the tears sting my eyes. Figured emotional diarrhea was just around the corner.

From the light over Ian’s garage, I could see the two of them, Ian a good eight or ten inches taller than his aunt. They talked for a minute or two, then Ian gave her a hug, picking her up a little as he did. Jane reached up and tousled his hair, then got into her rental car and backed around, her tires crunching on the gravel driveway.

Ian was very quiet when he came back in. His dog, sensing her master’s mood, slunk into the den. I wished I could follow.

“So,” I said, swallowing.

He folded his arms across his chest and stared at the floor, practically burning a hole in it. “Was I somehow unclear when I asked you not to … campaign for me, Calliope?” he asked, not looking up.

Crap. Things were never good when my full name was used. “Nope. Not unclear.”

“But you did anyway.”

I took a shaky breath. “Well, Ian, I’m sorry, but I just felt she should be … proud. Of you. Is that such a bad thing?”

“She’s not going to be proud, Callie. I don’t need her to be. And I don’t need her to approve of you. What really bothers me about tonight is that you didn’t respect the fact that perhaps I know more about my family than you do.”

“Well, don’t we sound all Jane Austen,” I said. “Although it’s funny, you and Mr. Darcy have a lot in common.”

Ian failed to appreciate the comparison. “I’m also a little uncomfortable with your view of me as a tragic orphan. Jane did her best with a child she didn’t expect or want. That was more than anyone else was offering.”

My eyes filled. Poor Ian! Of course, he’d smite me for thinking that, but come on!

He wasn’t done. “I think tonight had more to do with your need for people to adore you than with my relationship with Jane.”

“It is not about that, Ian!” I said. “She was mean to you! I stuck up for you!”

“She’s not mean, Callie, and I don’t need defending. Believe it or not, I can handle my aunt.”

“Then why didn’t you straighten her out on my name? Couldn’t you have done that, Ian?”

He raised his hands in frustration. “She knows your name, Callie. She was baiting you, and you bit. I understand my aunt. I know what she wants for me, and she’s not going to get it. Okay?” His voice rose. “You’re the one who had the problem. Not me. This whole night … this is just the way things are, and you being Little Miss Sunshine was not going to change that, and I told you that, but you couldn’t leave it alone, could you?”

I grabbed my purse. “You know what, Ian? I’m sorry I have so many inconvenient human emotions. I know you hate that sort of thing. I wish I could be more like your dog, who’s perfect in every way. I’m sorry I want people to like me, since I know you don’t give a rat’s ass about that sort of thing. I’m also sorry—” here I hiccupped, so dignified “—that I care about you enough to get upset when someone treats you like shit. I’m sorry that Hester called, and I’m sorry I actually voiced an opinion.” I dashed the heels of my hands across my eyes.

“Don’t cry,” he added tightly.

“Sorry,” I bit out. Then I opened the door and ran down the porch steps.

“Callie, wait,” Ian called, sounding defeated.

“You know what, Ian? I’m gonna go,” I said. “Talk to you soon.” With that, I got in my car and drove off into the dark country night.