And with that, it’s over. I said no and the world didn’t end.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I’m thankful for the excuse to cut off the awkward chat. “Sorry, it’s my mom. Gotta take this.”

He nods and turns his attention to Andrea.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Jessie Bird! It’s so lovely to hear your voice. It will be even nicer to see your beautiful face this weekend.”

Crap. I forgot it’s family dinner this week. “Yep. Looking forward to it.”

“Are you bringing that new boy?”

“Boy?” I laugh. Devin is many things, but I think he stopped being a ‘boy’ about a decade ago.

“Jake said you’ve been seeing someone…”

I blow out a deep breath. My middle brother has a fat mouth!

“Oh, that. It’s pretty new,” I deflect.

“Is it serious?” Mom presses.

The line goes quiet. I can’t lie to her, but I sure as hell can’t tell her I’m in love for the first time in my life, either. She’ll be picking out wedding dresses and baby names in five seconds flat. Mom’s been dreaming about my wedding since the day I was born.

“It’s…um…” Shit. “We’ve only had three dates.”

“Jessica Bridget Allen, that isn’t an answer.”

I sigh. “Yes. It’s serious. On my side at least.”

She lets out a giddy squeal that an almost sixty-year-old woman has no business making.

“Calm down, Mom. It’s still new.”

“My Jessie Bird has a serious boyfriend! I thought this day would never come.”

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, nothing, darling. You and Jamie are just like your father. All flirt and no falling in love.”

“Huh?” That’s the first time I’ve ever heard my dad called a flirt. He’s never even looked at another woman.

“He swore he’d never get married. But when he fell, he fell hard.” Her voice is wistful and sappy. “So, you’re bringing him.”

It’s not a question. It’s a command.

“I’ll ask. I don’t know what he’s got going on this weekend.”

“Pish posh. Tell him I’m making pot roast. He’ll come.”

I wish I had as much confidence in anything as Mom has in her pot roast.

“I’ll make the pitch,” I promise, resigned to my fate. I might be able to tell Trevor and Maddy no, but I’m a long way off from being able to say those two terrifying letters to my mom.

There’s clinking around on the other side of the line.

“Mom?”

“I’m just checking the cupboards. I need to go shopping. I’ll have to let you go.”

Our dinner is more than a couple of days away, but my mom is going to rush to the store tonight—because I’m bringing a man home for dinner. This isn’t going to end well.

* * * *