“Give me five minutes. I’ll meet you down there.”

  “We’re checking in. Your father just got the key. We’ll go up to our room and freshen up. We–”

  “Freshen up? Mom, you said a quick drink.”

  “And it will be. I’m exhausted, too, Macon. But your parents just flew across the country to see you. The least you could do is give us fifteen minutes to get settled and meet us for one drink.”

  “I’ll be down in a minute.” She ended the call before her mother had a chance to make her agree to anything else, and went in search of her girlfriend who, it turned out, was sitting on the bed, staring at her own phone. “Hey, sorry.”

  “Where are you going in a minute?” Joanna asked, obviously hearing the whole conversation, or at least Greene’s side of it.

  “My mom wants me to meet them at the bar for a quick drink.”

  “Oh.” Joanna sat the phone on the bedside table and turned back to her. “I can hold off on the whole bath thing until you get back.”

  “Or, you could come with me?” Greene asked.

  “You sure?”

  “If you don’t come tonight, they’re just going to wonder where I was hiding you tomorrow, when you do meet.”

  “I don’t have to meet them at all, remember? It’s up to you, Macon. I don’t want you to feel pressured just because I surprised you here.”

  Greene walked around to Joanna’s side of the bed and sat on the edge. She took her hand, lifted it to her mouth, and kissed each knuckle individually.

  “This is not how I planned on us spending the rest of our night.”

  “I know.” Joanna ran her hand through Greene’s hair. “But it’s okay. Honestly, I’m fine with whatever you decide.”

  “If I say I really want you to come meet them because I’ve never introduced them to anyone and I like the idea of you being the first, and they treat you like a second-class citizen, am I going to pay for that later?”

  Joanna laughed and leaned forward, pressing her forehead to Greene’s.

  “That depends: will you be defending my honor or throwing me to the wolves?”

  “Defending, of course.”

  “Then, you will not be paying for it later.” Joanna kissed her nose. “Let’s go get this part out of the way. I think I can hold my own against your mom.”

  “Maybe you can. She’s not your mom, so she can’t do the parental guilt thing with you.”

  “You’re so cute.” Joanna pecked Greene’s lips. “My big, bad girlfriend is afraid of her mommy.”

  “Oh, just you wait, Joanna Isabella.”

  ◆◆◆

  Joanna and Macon sat at the hotel bar at a table for four. Unfortunately, it was only the two of them so far. They’d been sitting downstairs for twenty minutes now, and she was starting to think they’d been stood up.

  “I’m sorry,” Macon said for at least the fifth time. “Let’s just go back upstairs. I’ll text them it’s too late.” She reached for her phone.

  “Babe, it’s fine. We can wait.” She took Macon’s hand under the table.

  “I can’t believe they’re making us wait like this.”

  “Macon, let’s just give them five more minutes, okay?” Joanna requested.

  “I’m at least getting you a drink. Me trying to be polite and waiting for them is over.” She stood. “Rum and Coke?”

  “No, just water. I don’t feel like alcohol.”

  “Are you sure? You’ll need it.” Macon gave her an expression that said she knew what she was talking about. “I’m getting a shot and a beer. I’m going to finish both of those, then I’ll get a glass of wine or a more appropriate drink according to my mother; like a dry martini. I’ll sip on that until we end this little meetup.” She was still holding onto Joanna’s hand even though she was standing. She ran her thumb over it. “Are you sure you only want water?”

  “How about I just sip on that martini with you so we can finish it faster?”

  “Macon?”

  “Mom, hi,” Macon greeted a woman who had come up behind her and was standing next to a man Joanna assumed to be her father. Her mother looked like a shorter and slightly heavier, but not by much, version of Macon. Her eyes weren’t as bright. Her hair was slightly darker. Her skin was also just a touch on the darker side, which led Joanna to believe that this was the Italian half of her parentage. “Dad,” she greeted her father.

  “Hi, honey.” Her dad was only slightly taller than Macon, and he reached out his hand for a shake, which Joanna thought a little strange.

  “Hi,” Macon replied, shook his hand, and then looked to her mother, who did, in fact, hug her daughter. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Sorry, we’re a little late. I had to hang up a few things for this week, and one of my dresses was already wrinkled, so I wanted to iron it before we came down.”

  “You could have called and told us you’d be late,” Macon suggested.

  “Us?” Macon’s mom asked. It was then that she noticed Joanna, who had stood up behind Macon. “Hello?”

  “Mom, Dad, this is Joanna.” She reached for Joanna’s hand. “My girlfriend.”

  “Oh,” her mother said.

  “Girlfriend?” her father asked. “Did we know you were seeing someone?” “Hello, dear,” he greeted Joanna, and his tone was a little more forgiving than Macon’s mother’s.

  “It’s nice to meet you both,” Joanna told them with a smile and held out her hand for them to shake.

  Macon’s father took it first. His handshake was firm, like he used it for business and didn’t know how to adjust it for personal encounters. Macon’s mother was very clearly giving her a once-over.

  “How long have you two been together?” her mother asked and went to sit down at one of the chairs without so much as an introduction to Joanna. “Do you live in Boston?” she asked Joanna, who sat down alongside Macon and immediately took Macon’s hand into her lap, because she needed to be touching her girlfriend now for encouragement.

  “Mom, calm down. We’ve been together for–” She stopped, and Joanna met her eyes. “How long have we been together?” She laughed.

  “You don’t know how long you’ve been a couple?” her father asked as he sat down. “Is there a waiter here or do I have to go to the bar to get a drink?” He seemed to be asking no one in particular, and then waved his arm to the bartender in that way that often drove Joanna crazy.

  “It’s not like that; we’ve known each other for over a year. I’ve talked about her to you guys before,” Macon said.

  “We’ve heard about Keira and Hillary. And I remember someone else with a K name. Kelly?” her mom asked.

  “Kellan; she moved to Lake Tahoe to be with her girlfriend,” Macon explained. “And Joanna; I’ve mentioned her a lot over the past year or so.”

  “Joanna? The photographer?” her dad chimed in just as the bartender approached, seeming a little out of place beyond the safe confines of his wooden bar. “I’ll take a Macallan 18; neat. My wife will have a Bombay Sapphire martini; perfect.”

  “With olives on the side,” Macon’s mother requested.

  “Macon?” Her father looked at Macon.

  “Oh. Jo?” Macon asked Joanna.

  “A water for me, thanks.”

  “Water?” her mother questioned.

  “I’m feeling a little dehydrated; we walked a lot today,” she replied and then gulped at the stare Macon’s mother gave her, as if she was wondering if she was an alcoholic and lying about it.

  “She’ll have a Pellegrino then,” Macon’s mother ordered for her.

  “Mom, she’ll have whatever water she wants. Jo, tap?”

  “Yeah.” Joanna loved Macon even more in that moment; not for telling her mother off, but for knowing her well enough that she’d want simple tap water tonight and nothing complicated.

  “I’ll have a–”

  “Please don’t say a beer, Macon Sage,” her father said. “At least not in your mother’s presence, or I’ll have to hear about how uncivilized our daughter is all night.”

  “What if it’s a French beer? Is that better?” Macon directed at her mother.

  “Lord, Macon.” She turned to the bartender. “She’ll have what I’m having.”

  “I’ll just have a water,” Macon said. “Like my girlfriend, Joanna, who is sitting right here and is meeting you two for the very first time. You could at least pretend you care.”

  “I’ll get your drinks.” The bartender seemed all too interested in leaving this conversation.

  “He could have asked if we wanted pretzels or something. We should have just stayed at the Camden,” she said to her husband and then looked at Macon. “And, honey, it’s not exactly like we were prepared to meet your friend tonight. You don’t tell us anything about…” she hesitated, “that part of your life.”

  “She was my friend, Mom. But now, she’s my girlfriend; we’re a couple.”

  “A couple that doesn’t know when they started dating?”

  “It was six weeks ago.” Joanna leaned forward. “It was right before she left on tour. We’d been dancing around it for a while, I think. It took us both realizing it was more than friendship, and when we finally admitted it, it felt right.” She turned to make sure Macon agreed, and when Macon smiled back and squeezed her hand under the table, Joanna knew she did. “Your daughter is one of a kind.”

  “We know that, dear. She’s always been the most talented violinist in–” her mother started.

  “No,” Joanna interrupted. “That’s not what I mean.” She made sure her glare gave away that she wasn’t done. “Macon is a remarkably gifted violinist. But, to me, that’s the least important thing about her.” She took her hand from Macon’s and placed it on the back of Macon’s neck instead. She knew it might be too much, but she didn’t care. “She is beautiful, and I don’t just mean in the obvious way.” She smiled at Macon. “She’s so sweet. She brings me lunch because she knows I forget to eat sometimes. She helped me figure out that I wanted to leave my old job and do photography full-time. She inspires me and makes me laugh. She challenges me. I’m better because I know her.” She rubbed Macon’s neck and watched her eyes close, but only briefly before she seemed to remember she was sitting in front of her parents.

  “Well, that’s nice,” her father said as the bartender arrived, carrying their drinks.

  “So, a new relationship then?” Macon’s mother asked. “And you’ve been on tour since then? Did she go with you?”

  “No, Mom. She didn’t. She just came to Boston for the weekend. She surprised me.” She placed her hand on Joanna’s thigh.

  Macon’s father passed the martini to his wife as the bartender left the water glasses in front of Macon and Joanna.

  “And things are good?” her father asked and took a long drink, as if needing the burning liquid to recharge his batteries and go on.

  “Things are great,” Joanna replied for her. “We haven’t had a lot of time together, obviously, since she’s been away, but I’m very happy.”

  “And you don’t mind her going on tour?” her mother asked in an accusing tone.

  “No, I don’t. I miss her. I’ll miss her when I leave tomorrow, because she won’t be back for another week and a half, but I want her to be happy. If she wants to go on tours, then I want that for her, too.”

  “She should be touring more; at least six months out of the year, Macon.” She turned to her daughter and drank half of her martini in one gulp before she tossed an olive into the drink and ate another one from the small dish of five or six the bartender had provided. “Maybe even nine months. You need an agent at this point, since this tour has been so successful. It can be hard on a relationship,” she added, “to be with someone who isn’t around much.”

  “Well, I’m a photographer, so I can always grab my camera and go with her,” Joanna fired back.

  “And you make good money at that? What do you photograph?”

  “Mom!” Macon exclaimed.

  “It’s okay.” Joanna laughed. “I have my own business. I do everything myself, and that means I have no employees to pay, so that’s helpful. I’m really just getting started though, but I make ends meet fine. I had a gallery show a while ago and sold some prints. I mostly shoot weddings, newborns, and families.”

  “She’s being modest,” Macon said. “She does that stuff, but she also does a lot of urban photography. She just walks around and sees things no one else does, captures it, takes it home, and edits it into something amazing. She goes on hikes sometimes and does the same with nature photography. I have one of her flower prints in my apartment.”

  “Editing? Isn’t the point of photography to take the picture so that it’s perfect and leave it at that?” Macon’s father asked, but Joanna didn’t sense that he meant anything offensive in his tone.

  “That’s the goal. But, sometimes, it can be fun to manipulate them, too; take something you shot in color and make it black and white or crop something out that was just on the edge.”

  “I guess that makes sense.” He drained his glass, and Joanna noticed Macon’s mother’s glass was also empty.

  “So, you and Macon will just travel the world together then?”

  “Mom, the tour is ending. I’m going home soon.”

  “I know. But there will be another one, Macon. I’m sure they’ll be reaching back out to you soon to schedule the next.”

  “I have a contract with the orchestra, Mom. I have to finish that, and then I’ll think about what I want to do next. Right now, I just want to get home. I miss it there, and I miss Joanna.”

  “Yes, but Macon, your career–”

  “Is fine the way it is, Mom. We’ve had this discussion a million times. We’ve been having it since I was sixteen years old. I wanted to stay in high school like a normal kid, and you wanted to ship me off to Julliard.”

  “You were never a normal kid, Macon,” she argued.

  “Because I wasn’t allowed to be.”

  “Normal kids are not as gifted as you were. And if we didn’t honor that gift and push you to practice and–”

  “Okay, I think it’s time we call it a night,” her father interrupted. “I’m tired, and your mother is tired. I’m sure you’re both tired as well.”

  “I was–” her mother tried again.

  “Dad’s right. I’m tired, Mom. I really don’t want to have this fight again, and definitely not in front of Joanna, who you’ve managed to be rude to without even realizing it, which is exactly what I thought you’d do. So, we’re going upstairs to bed. I’ll just see you two after the performance tomorrow.”

  “Macon, I thought we’d have breakfast at least,” her father protested, though lightly, and stood up at the same time.

  “We’re going to have breakfast in our room. She’s leaving tomorrow. I want to have time with her alone before she goes.”

  “She’s staying here?” her mother asked and stood.

  “Mom, where the hell else would she be staying?” Macon stood as well, disconnecting their bodies, but she reached out for Joanna’s hand. “I’m an adult. She’s an adult. We’re together. We’re staying in the same damn hotel room, Mom. We share a bed. That’s how this thing works.”

  “I don’t need you to tell me that,” her mother whispered while looking around at the relatively empty bar, as if to see if anyone had heard Macon’s words.

  “Seems like you do,” Macon reminded. “Mom, we’re going to bed. And tomorrow, I’m going to spend time with Jo until I have to go to work. After the show, I’ll see her off to the airport. Then, the three of us can go to dinner or something. But please don’t spend this entire trip trying to browbeat me into doing things I don’t want to do, and don’t pretend you want to know about my love life when we all know you’re not interested because I’m gay.” She took Joanna’s hand. “Let’s go?”

  “Sure,” Joanna replied. “It was nice to meet you.” She was then pulled away from the table by Macon.

  “I am so sorry,” Macon said the moment they entered the elevator and the door closed behind them.

  “For what?” Joanna asked her and placed her head on Macon’s shoulder as the elevator ascended.

  “She’s such a bitch, and he’s not that much better. I shouldn’t have brought you. I should have just gone myself, answered the two or three questions they’d ask about work, and then come back up to the room. I’m so sorry, Jo.”

  “Hey, you don’t have to be sorry. You warned me. I wanted to go; that’s number one. Number two is that you didn’t just sit there and let them interrogate or denigrate me, Macon. You stood up for me, and you left when it was time to leave. I’m okay. We’re okay.”

  “I just want to scream at her sometimes.”

  “Why don’t you?” Joanna suggested as the elevator dinged and arrived at their floor. “Seriously.”

  “I don’t know.” Macon sighed as they walked down the hallway hand in hand. “She’s still my mom. I just wished she tried to understand me instead of always making me feel like I’m not enough.”

  They arrived at the door. Joanna stopped Macon before she could use the key to open it.

  “You’re enough for me.” She turned her so that they were facing one another. “You’re enough for me, Make. I don’t care about how your parents treat me. I can deal with that. You’re enough for me.”

  “Thank you.” Macon laid her head on Joanna’s shoulder. “I am so tired.

  “Let’s get some sleep then.”

  “What? No, I didn’t mean–”

  “Babe, we’re both exhausted; and after that fireworks show downstairs, I don’t think either one of us is in the mood.”

  “I guess not.” Macon lifted her head. “I guess we’ll wait a little bit longer then.”

  CHAPTER 20

  “So, you two didn’t go through with it?” Emma asked as they sat at lunch the following Friday with Keira and Hillary.

  “Go through with it?” Joanna tossed back like that sentence sounded ridiculous. “Emma, really?”