“And land in the wrong pothole,” I contributed, “you could total your car. My car,” I corrected, shooting him a warning look. “So be careful.”
After Patrick had tossed the keys to Christian, we’d offered to give him a lift home for the night, but he’d said he’d rather take the streetcar, so the three of us just left together. Christian drove with me in the passenger seat, and Easton sat in the rear-facing seats behind Christian. All I had to do was look to my left and there she was.
“So many issues with the streets.” She shook her head. “I don’t suppose fixing any of these problems are on your platform.”
“No, but I can get you in touch with the mayor,” I replied, resting my elbow over the back of the seat.
The light turned, and Christian pulled forward, cruising the streets easily but looking a little nervous. I suspected he’d driven four-wheelers out in the country but never a big SUV on busy city streets. Thankfully, we were off the main avenues and coasting through the quieter, less-populated neighborhoods.
I glanced back at Easton, seeing her watching the road as well. With both of us, we were probably making Christian more nervous, but she was right. He was only fourteen, and if he got into trouble, he might find being Tyler Marek’s son finally somewhat useful.
“There’s no parking.” He scowled, scanning the space in front of the shop.
Easton pointed to the right, just a few yards ahead. “Right there.”
Christian jerked the wheel right and slid into the spot between two cars, his front end in the clear, but the back end still sticking out into the street. I turned away, not wanting him to see my smile at his attempt at parallel parking.
This was a big car. For a space that tight, he’d have to back into it.
“Shit,” he cursed again. “This is ridiculous.”
I shook my head. “First, stop swearing,” I ordered. “And second, you’ve lived here your entire life. Haven’t you ever paid attention to your mother while she drove, or were you too busy playing on your phone?”
“And what do you do while Patrick carts you around town?” Easton blurted out.
Christian laughed, and I pursed my lips in annoyance.
“Hey, how’d you know our chauffeur’s name?” Christian asked, looking at Easton through the rearview mirror.
I caught Easton’s eye as she clearly realized her mistake.
But she blew it off and changed the subject. Looking out the back window and seeing a car go past, she instructed Christian, “Okay, back out and pull up right next to the car ahead of you.”
Christian gripped the wheel, looking worried. But he followed her instructions. After backing out, he pulled ahead and lined up with the car next to him.
“Okay —” Easton started, but Christian cut her off.
“But I’m in the driving lane,” he protested. “There are people behind me waiting.”
“And they’ll wait,” she assured him patiently.
I watched as she instructed him and led him back into the parking space with ease, and I was surprised by how different she was with him from with me.
Not that our interactions were bad, but she was almost never calm. With him, she stayed controlled and relaxed, easing his nerves about the cars behind us waiting to get by and stopping and correcting him without sounding brusque.
She was good with him and slid into her role with ease. I smiled to myself.
It was funny that I liked her being so calm with him while hoping she would never be that way with me.
Christian put the car in park and broke out in a huge smile. “I did it.”
I shot Easton an appreciative glance and turned to Christian.
“Good job.”
He shut off the car and took the keys out of the ignition. “Thanks,” he said quietly, handing me the keys.
He didn’t look at me, but it was a start.
After entering the shop and picking out a selection of macaroons and homemade marshmallows, we took our desserts and drinks to a small table perfect for watching clientele breezing in and out of the quiet atmosphere.
Easton had picked out some gelato, and I loosened my tie, drinking some coffee.
“I got an e-mail from your mother today,” Easton told Christian, and I narrowed my eyes, not realizing that they were in contact.
I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of it. Of course Brynne would be in touch with all of Christian’s teachers to make sure she stayed abreast of his progress. I guess I had figured Christian was keeping her informed during their weekly video chats.
“She’s thrilled with your progress,” Easton went on. “We thought you might like to test for an AP class.”
Advanced placement?
“Really?” Christian’s eyebrows pinched together as he thought about it.
“Like an honors class?” I asked.
“Yes.” She nodded. “It would be with a different teacher and the class would be even more demanding, but I think he’d be challenged more.”