Courting Livy by Phara Joseph

Author:Phara Joseph [Joseph, Phara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penned By Fafa, LLC
Published: 2023-06-26T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

During our bike ride, I tell Jackson I want to go to my parents’ house. I need to have a talk with my mother. Everyone, including my mother, has been on pause. She has always enjoyed cooking for our family and having us home on Sundays. No matter where she was in the world, she always made it home for Sunday dinner. But we haven’t had a Sunday dinner since Maxwell came over. I can’t let what happened to me put an end to our family tradition.

We pull into the gate of my parents’ home in Scarsdale. I hop off the bike, then Jackson gets off.

“Your mom is going to have a fit seeing you get off a motorcycle,” Jackson says.

And right on cue, she appears out of thin air.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” my mother says, coming from the garden, donned in her sun hat and gardening gloves. She pulls off her gloves as she walks toward us.

“Hi, Mom,” I say, walking over to hug her.

“Hi, baby. Mmmm,” she hums and hugs me tight.

Then I step back and she hugs Jackson too.

“What brings you two out here?”

Just then, her eyes focus on the bike. Jackson’s hand tenses in mine for a moment.

“Ahhhh, this brings back memories,” she says, walking over to the bike and running her hand over one of the handlebars.

“She looks like she rides like a dream.” She turns and looks at Jackson.

Jackson clears his throat. “Er, umm, yes, she does.”

“I thought I heard a Slim pull up,” my dad says, coming out of the garage.

“Will, isn’t she a beauty!” my mother says as my father walks over to her and the bike.

“What’s happening right now?” Jackson bends down and whispers.

“I don’t know, but no sudden moves,” I whisper back.

They finally turn to us. We stare at my parents, trying to figure out what these prim and proper people know about a Harley Davidson.

“Don’t look so shocked, Livy. Your father used to own one. It’s what he used to get me to go out with him.”

Now, my gaze switches to my father, who is beaming.

Jackson tugs on my hand a little. He is as astonished as I am. My mother’s eyes land on my hand in Jackson’s.

“Look, William,” she says, smiling brightly. “I told you, eventually, it would happen.”

“Camille ...,” my father says with a warning look.

“What? I had nothing to do with this. Clearly, it happened on its own.”

“How about we get out of the sun,” my father says, attempting to redirect my mother.

“Yes, oh goodness, where are my manners?”

They lead us to the backyard, toward the covered patio next to the pool house. Jackson and I sit beside each other, and my parents head inside the house. Jackson lets go of my hand and rests his arm behind me on the patio sofa, and I move closer to him.

“Here we are.”

My mother, the ever-prepared hostess, brings out a tray with a pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade and four glasses. My father follows with a tray of sandwiches and an ice bucket.

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