“Well, you have to finish it.” I start to fill my plate with the mini quiches and stuffed peppers Marie prepared. “Smith will know we’re not madly in love if I don’t know your drink of choice.”
“Beer,” he says. “For future reference, I’m a plain old beer kind of guy. Unless we’re someplace fancy. Then I’ll have a mule with whiskey.”
An image of Martin in his flannel shirt in the woods flashes across my mind. I try to imagine how that version of Martin with the five-o’clock shadow and sun-kissed cheeks is the same man sitting next to me who looks like he fell off the pages of GQ. I’m buzzed enough to want to ask him about @KnotMartinButler but sober enough to know now is not the time to let the man doing me a huge favor know that I’ve cyberstalked him.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say.
“And that’s how I ended up getting bucked off a camel in Cairo,” Smith announces. “I’ve still got the scar on my knee to prove it.”
Everyone, minus Martin and me, erupts in laughter, and for a moment, I think this terror of a day might actually end on a good note.
“I hope National Geographic paid you workman’s comp.” My father dabs at the tears streaming down his face. “That sure would’ve been an interesting claim.”
“National Geographic?” I ask.
“Smith works for them as a traveling photojournalist,” my father says. “Didn’t he mention that to you on the drive home?”
“No, he didn’t.” I shake my head. “We were kind of busy with our driver.”
“Whatever happened to that digital magazine the two of you got involved in?” Nana Rosie asks. “If I remember right, you ended up becoming a partner in the group?”
“Nana, Smith doesn’t want to talk about work the whole time,” I say.
The truth is that I don’t want to hear Smith talk about work, particularly if that work involves Digital Slap, the online music magazine that played a key role in the demise of our marriage.
“I’m still involved with the company,” Smith says. “But Penny’s right. We don’t need to focus on me. We could talk about the two—”
“Lovebirds at the table.” I motion to Phoebe and Falon, desperate to turn the spotlight away from me. “Phoebe and Falon are newly engaged. It’s all very exciting.”
“It’s true.” Phoebe eyes me, like she knows exactly what I’m doing. “We’re in love. We’re engaged. Next subject.”
My mind races trying to come up with something—anything—to talk about that can’t possibly lead back to me and Martin. To my relief, Martin chimes in.
“Have any of you read Penny’s latest novel?”
To my dismay, he’s picked a landmine of a conversation starter. My family hasn’t read any of my books. They know I write, and they know I’m successful enough to not have to sell my organs to make ends meet, but that’s it.
“You know, I always thought I would have traveled more by this point in my life.” My father interjects himself so quickly, it practically gives the table whiplash. “I just never seemed to find the time. The company always needed me. My family needed me. Now look at me, I’m in my seventies and there’s so much of the world I’ve never seen.”
Phoebe shoots me a WTF look from across the table. Our dad is a man of routine. He’s up every day at five o’clock with the same three newspapers and a pot of coffee before work. He’s eaten the same lunch at the same delicatessen across the street from his office since I was five. The man has a written inventory of his wardrobe so he knows when to buy the identical replacement pieces of clothing after they start to look too worn.
He’s never once mentioned the desire to travel to exotic places. He barely tolerates traveling to local places. He’s never even traveled to San Francisco to visit me. Of course, I’ve never extended an invite, but regardless, he wouldn’t go. He doesn’t go places. He likes his routines, and he likes the control he has over them.
“Well, now you’ve got Martin,” Smith says. “I’m sure he could keep an eye on things while you and Silvia do a little traveling.”
“Wouldn’t mind at all,” Martin says.
“I would love that, Carter,” my mother says. “We could do that trip to Europe we’ve always talked about. Phoebe and Falon, the two of you could meet us on your honeymoon. Wouldn’t that be fun?”