Page 174 of On His Mind

I don’t know her mother. I’ve never met her, never heard her voice, only ever heard the things Penelope has said about her in passing. But I can see Penelope’s shoulders sitting up around her ears, so I put my hand on the small of her back, and I don’t say anything.

“Okay,” she says. She hits call and puts it to her ear.

It rings once.

“Mom. Hi.”

Penelope stands and walks across the room.

“Everything’s okay.” She pauses. “No, I’m not. That’s why I’m calling.”

Penelope turns to look at me.

“So,” She takes a breath. “I’m not coming home for Christmas.”

Penelope’s jaw sets.

“I know I did.” She stares at me. “I know. But I’m not coming.” This time, it’s a longer pause. She closes her eyes. “It’s not about the dinner. I’m staying because I have a boyfriend. And I want to spend it with him.”

Boyfriend.

Her eyes find mine, almost like she’s stunned herself with the word. And I realize that I hadn’t asked the question when I had the opportunity to.

Penelope’s eyes drop to the ground, taking in whatever her mother’s saying to her. I watch her, but I don’t hear a word coming from the phone because my mind starts running through scenarios of how I’m going to officially ask her to be my girlfriend.

I try to think of what would be appropriate now that she’s said the word out loud. I’ve seen the guys do too many things, and none I have the balls for. Benson drops on one knee at least once a day. Blue threw a puck over the boards to Melly. Stanley hopped on a plane to ask permission to date the coach’s daughter. And here I am, watching the girl I’ve loved for years tell her mother that we’re official before I ever fucking realized that we aren’t, and that we never were.

Shit.

She glances at me again.

“He––” She looks at me. “Yeah. He does.” She grins.

She listens. Her eyes go bright. “I haven’t. No. Not in a long time. You could hear that?”

Whatever her mother says next, Penelope lets out a small breath of a laugh, and I can see the surprise in her face.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay. I’ll — yeah.” Then, a little wary, “What?”

She lowers the phone a fraction and looks at me, and there’s the smallest smile fighting onto her mouth.

“She wants to see a picture of you,” she says.

She points her phone at me, but I reach for her arm and pull her to me. I wrap my arms around her and whisper, “Take it with me.”

She looks up at me for a moment and then turns her camera to selfie mode. She leans her head on my chest and holds the phone up. I look at her in the camera as she smiles. I smile, too. She takes the picture and then another one. I grab her face and kiss her.

She trots away from me, putting the phone back to her ear.

“I just sent it. Did you get it?”

There’s a pause on the line. And then something I can’t hear that makes Penelope’s shoulders drop a few inches.

“Yeah,” she says. “He is. Okay. I love you too. Bye, Mom.”

She hangs up and turns around. “That,” she says, “went nothing like I thought it would.”

“Yeah?”