She fled. No other word for it, As soon as his parents gave her an opening, she babbled something about networking, and fled. Not like he could blame her, because this was two things: a disaster, and all his fault.
He'd been too private and proud to explain all the elements to Luke, to ask Leticia to keep the true nature of their relationship quiet. Nothing wrong with what he and Nat were doing. Plenty of others in the world in the same position. He felt pathetic explaining that two consenting people in their thirties were keeping their relationship secret because their moms wanted to play matchmakers. So he'd played the odds that they could manage the story, and lost.
"How long has this been going on?" Dad asked. He'd yet to stop smiling. Mom's eyes were bright. She kept reaching up to fluff his hair, like she'd done before every big event his whole childhood. Their happiness slayed him. He knew they had these big dreams about all their kids finding love and whatever, but they weren't usually so overt. Well, that wasn't true. They'd been blatant about Natalie, in all those emails from Turkey, telling everyone how sweet she was, how bright and fun, how thoughtful. Each new one prompted Danny to text, "I hear Evan's getting married." Or Ben to say, "Evan's in looooove." Or Alice to play with different color combinations of heart emojis.
It was hard to credit that his siblings were almost all in their forties. They'd been teasing him throughout his life, and a little middle age wasn't enough to stop them. On some level, he'd thought his parents were also joking around. Acting more invested than they really were. Even though their hopping on board Elaine's matchmaker train generated, they had to know, fodder for the siblings.
The way Mom and Dad vibrated right in front of him made him wonder if they'd noticed the snark from their older kids. "I just knew you two would work," Mom said. "The day we met her, right, Koray? Such a trooper, when her luggage was lost, and did we tell you about her shoes? She only had the ones from the plane, and Elaine's feet are so small, she couldn't help--"
"I know about her shoes, Mom. She told me how you and Dad took her shopping."
It was hard to believe, but Mom's eyes got even brighter. "Did she? Well."
"A sweet girl. You told me you weren't dating, but your friends told us about dinners and plays and games. Are we going to find out you're married from some stranger's photo stream some day?"
"Not if they don't tag me, you won't." He should shut up before Dad redoubled his cyber stalking. He'd probably have alerts for Natalie set up by the fireworks finale. If he didn't already.
"You're talking marriage? Oh, Evan."
"Mom, no. Retreat a few steps. It's just, you know, casual. That's why we didn't say anything. We know all you parents are trying to get us together."
"I never said that." Mom put her hand to her heart, looking in her star-spangled dress more pledge of allegiance-ready than shocked.
He rubbed her upper arm. "Subtlety is not your middle name."
"So you lied to us about dating Natalie because you're not serious about her?" She'd gotten all crestfallen, and he floundered.
"Well...I suppose it started out that way."
"In case you decided she's terrible?"
"I wouldn't date someone terrible."
Dad interrupted the interrogation. "Seems you're past the point of deciding she's not terrible. You're kissing in hallways and have been for weeks. Are you seeing anyone else?"
"What? No, of course not."
"So you're exclusive."
He'd never put it like that. "We--yes, okay, we're exclusive."
"And that's not serious for you?"
"Dad."
"I know I'm an old married man and I don't understand kids these days. You don't have to remind me I'm obsolete."
"No one thinks you're obsolete."
Dad squared up to him, close so his serious tone was impossible to miss. Every time Dad did this, Evan's shoulders automatically firmed, as if Dad were an anti-masseuse. "Oğlum, all we want is your happiness. Yes, when your mother and I met Natalie, we felt she could be part of that for you. I understand why you kept it private at first. But now we know, I'm asking for you to include us in your news. We'll try to not be overbearing--your mother will, anyway, and I promise to listen to her. Can we celebrate this news with you now? Can you keep us informed, so if there is an engagement, we hear about it from you first?"
Evan nodded. Dad squeezed his shoulders. When he leaned in to kiss Evan's cheek, Evan suspected he was hiding tears. All this time, it seemed his parents had held back. Because now that they thought he and Natalie were a real thing, each of them glowed with joy. He cleared his throat. "No engagement just yet."
Mom broke into their circle, taking one of Dad's arms for herself. "Okay, but how serious is serious? Are you discussing the future? Will she come to New Orleans for Chloe and Ben's birthday weekend?"
"Calm down. You ought to at least let us move in together first."
"You're moving in with her?" Dad laughed and clasped Evan's back. His mom threw herself into the group hug. Just as well, because with them pressed into him, neither could read Evan's expression. He was sure it was horrified. Damn his go-to defensive joking. Now they believed him, and any pinch of reserve about butting into his romantic life had dissipated.
His problem was, his whole life he tested the waters by joking about his plans. It allowed him to calibrate how much trouble he would be in if he failed to follow through. 'That's nice, dear' meant he could turn back to shore unimpeded. If his throwaway lines had them jumping to chart his route and wish him a good voyage, he knew he couldn't easily veer off course. Quitting baseball after junior year? They'd given him free rein to talk it through with the coach. Going after a summer internship at Mom's firm? They brought him in every afternoon for a week to observe various departments, so he could speak knowledgeably about workflow during his interview.
Not that moving in with Natalie was on a par with quitting baseball. He had no idea why he'd said it. Dad's big speech about missing out had made him queasy, and this celebratory hug was a thick dose of anti-nausea meds. Hard to swallow, but soothing in the end. He and Natalie would make a plan, work something out. They'd been excellent communicators so far. She'd understand about it being a parent-son thing. Their secret was blown. She'd see how telling them what they wanted to hear meant a measure of peace.
He needed to alert her in private, and fast. Very fast. Mom dabbed under her eyes, offering up a wry smile for a passing waiter. Dad slung an arm across him, pulling him into a walk and talk back to the party. Evan palmed his phone. He would text her, get her away again, warn her.
Tell her he'd taken the flopping fish of their being caught and flipped it from frying pan into fire. And all before the fireworks had begun.
Her intention had been to confess a little light dating to Elaine. Explain they'd kept it under wraps because it was no big deal. An occasional group thing. Evan would spin it the same way with Marisa and Koray, or close enough.
Her mom, though, had gone invisible in the crowd. Natalie did run into Lionel Harbison. He was on the Board of Trustees of Houston Health and Housing, and back in March they'd met at Houston Green's Spring Gala. She updated him about her progress towards becoming a housing counselor. She couldn't get certified unless and until she found a position, but that hadn't stopped her from reading up on the Dodd-Frank Act and taking several online training courses on the six competency areas of the exam. Lionel hinted that she should keep an eye on job postings, which was distraction enough for her to take her eye off Elaine. By the time she shook Lionel's hand, she'd lost her mom.
The Lees were also lost in the crush. As darkness descended outside, more guests were arriving to be in place for the launch of the various firework shows. The downtown ones would be the clearest, of course, but those at Hermann Park and the Galleria meant viewers at any of the windows would be treated to sparkly explosions. She headed to the northern-most area, hoping her mom had staked out a good spot and stayed put.
Evan texted while she was talking to Lionel, but wasn't answering her return message. She caught sight of him talking to three bald men, his self-assured stance and firm, serious nods at odds with the barbershop quartet vibe they projected thanks to their patriot-hued attire and the one guy's hat. She would have approached, but Elaine came barreling out between two chattering groups and smothered her in a hug.
"Marisa just told me. I thought something was up when I brought over the empanadas, but not this. It's not like you to keep such big secrets from me. Mazel tov, Natalie. I'm so proud of you."
"Proud?" She extricated herself. "Mom, it's not a pride thing. I'm not Dr. Frankenstein. I didn't create him from parts. Just because we happen--"
"Oh, I know, I know. You've given me all the lectures about femininity and power and so on. Don't start again."
"Feminism. Not femininity."
"Whichever. My point is, after Chris, you were so shattered."
"I wouldn't say shattered. Confused, and hurt. Angry."
"Shattered, like I was when your daddy left me at the chuppah, and I didn't think you'd easily come to trust again, and here you are, moving in together."
"Not shattered. And Dad broke it off before your wedding day." Her mom was overfond of her story of standing alone under the chuppah--rarely mentioning that in one sense, she hadn't been alone. She'd been carrying Natalie when her fiancé broke it off, three days before chuppah construction began.
The rest of Elaine's giddy-fast words caught up with Natalie, hushing her up about the past. For years, she had shown obvious tear-downs like they were redeemable, and nodded thoughtfully when buyers made offers so lowball a pee-wee player wouldn't swing at them, and shared office space with Carter. So she knew how to keep her face calm while thinking fast.
"About moving in," she began.
"I take it he's going to your house? Because that condo of his, how would you fit your sofa in there? And you must use your sofa, it's too gorgeous to give up."
"Mom, slow down. The truth is, we haven't quite talked through the logistics. I mean, nothing's certain."
For example, she was certain they'd never talked about living together, yet here her mom was, rearranging her furniture. It was one thing to be busted. This was another, entirely alien, thing. She hadn't even lived with Chris, and they'd been together three years. In an actual relationship. With proper romance and dates and weekend getaways and stuff. Well, one weekend getaway. Between her job and his flight schedule, they hadn't managed more. Gillian had added that to the pyre of reasons Chris hadn't been good enough for her, but at least Chris had never moved in while Nat's back was turned.
All it took for a man to earn Elaine's approval was ownership of a hammer and an aura of capability. The hammer was negotiable. Her enthusiasm for Nat's future with Evan was stratospheric now that she thought her daughter would have a man not only in her life, but actually in her house, taking care of all those outmoded gender-role things. Waxing the car and moving boxes in the attic and configuring the sound system.
Evan could just stay clear of her coaxial cable, if he knew what was good for him.
If he knew what was good for him, he'd never have spilled this oil-slick of a rumor about them living together. She should flat-out deny it. Let him deal with the clean up while she found a clean beach to relax on, away from the journalistic scrutiny of their avid parents.
Except Elaine would never let it go. And maybe Evan had a mitigating plan, not that she could envision one. Or maybe Evan genuinely wanted to live with her, and this was his dumbass way of bringing it up. Maybe this was an entirely toxic situation.
"Koray, listen." Mom reached over and snagged Evan's dad as he passed. As soon as he saw Mom, he turned and waved down Marisa, who started their way.
Koray said, "You found her, good. Did you tell her my idea?"
"Not yet. I wanted to ask, how long are you and Marisa in Houston?" Nat was impressed her mom could be so articulate with her mouth stretched in such a wide smile.
"We go home Tuesday."
"So this won't eat up all your time? Because I can arrange it for later." Mom glanced at her. "Help Evan arrange it, I mean."
The parents were too buzzed. She had a bad feeling about it. "Help him with what?"
"We thought tomorrow, so Evan has time to settle in before work on Monday. You don't have clients over the holiday weekend, do you?"
She shook her head. "Tomorrow for what, precisely?"
Her mom beamed. "Moving, of course."
They were in too tight a cluster for him to get a clear read on Nat's expression. He rounded a column and eyed her from the side. Game face. Polite but not open. The parents were jabbering, gesticulating. If it weren't for unchecked escapees from Natalie's previously-tamed low bun, he would have figured they were enjoying cute grandkid stories or planning another joint vacation. But the hair was a giveaway.
He texted. Asked her to head his way if she wanted to yell at him before he joined the group. She glanced at her phone, shook off the suggestion, and sent a patently false grin in his general direction before turning back to listen to his dad.
Right, then. Into the fray. He hoped it meant she was going with his story for now. He'd scrambled together some schemes to put off moving and manage parental pressure after his went home. And he wouldn't screw up this time. He slipped into the group between his mom and Natalie. "The fireworks should start soon."
Her quick, arch look let him know his attempt to steer the conversation was rudderless. "Mom and your parents have been talking," she said.
"Listen, Evan, we decided instead of the beach tomorrow, we'll stay in town and get the move done." Mom's voice was almost as chipper as her 'gather the kids for Christmas morning' cheer.
"I--that's really generous of you, but this is your holiday. I don't want you to waste it."
"It's not a waste. We've been to the beach before. We've never seen you settle in with a woman before."
"Or a man. We don't judge."
"Dad."
"Just saying."
"Right. Well, thanks."
"Tell Chloe that if you get a chance."
"Dad, for the last time, Chloe's not gay. She just isn't into permanent relationships. If you don't want to judge, don't judge her for that."
"She just hasn't met the right man yet." Mom patted at Dad's arm, soothing. "Like Evan has."
"Natalie's not a man." He shook his head. "I mean, she's not the right woman."
"Oh," said Elaine, quiet.
He shut his eyes, then opened them and turned to Natalie. So much for him not screwing things up more. Her expression was practically giggling at him, it was so full of silent glee. He was out of ideas. He shrugged. "Sorry."
"No worries."
He clutched at straw. "I'm too rude. You shouldn't let me move in."
Nat's lips compressed. She looked like she'd collapse in mirth if she opened her mouth.
Her mom jumped in. "I know that's not how you meant it, Evan. You two are still getting to know each other. This isn't one of those permanent relationships your sister despises, not yet. Not yet." Elaine nodded along with each of her last two words.
"That's," he searched for the right word, "understanding of you."
"What my son means to say is that he takes his relationship with your daughter seriously. Despite his big mouth and inappropriate punch lines."
Tell it like you see it, Dad.
Elaine nodded more. "They'll get to know each other faster this way. And it's such a relief to me to know Natalie won't still be rattling all alone through that house. I've never been entirely comfortable with that. So much better to have a man around."
Nat leaned his way. "I thought about getting a guard dog, but she said it wouldn't put her mind at ease."
"You can get a dog if you want a dog, Natalie. Now that Evan is there to help with cleanup and walking it, that's not a bad idea."
He pulled a considering frown. "I was thinking a schnauzer. We're still in negotiations."
"I'm in favor of a Saint Bernard, but he's worried about the heat."
"Hey, it's a valid concern. I know it would look amazing sitting in your living room, but those puppies are bred for snow and ice and mountains and other things we just aren't finding in Houston."
"But their coloring is perfect." She let a whine into her voice that was going to break his composure.
"I never said it wasn't."
"And you nixed the King Charles spaniels."
He pretended to be aghast. "Way too yippy."
"I told you, you're thinking of Pomeranians."
"No, you're thinking of Poms. Every time I turn around, you're thinking of Poms. I'm thinking of Chihuahuas."
"Oh, look," interrupted Mom, dry and no-nonsense. "The fireworks."