“You let me in.” He shrugs.
Technically, my mom did, but that’s not the point.
“You wererude.”
“Tell him, Hattie!” Margot says from the sofa, lowering the pillow from her face.
“Not helping,” Ethan growls.
“If you want me to play along with your grand plan, you’re going to have to do a better job than—”
A deafening squeal behind us cuts me off mid-sentence.
Mom has finally left the kitchen and she’s speeding toward him with her hands outstretched. All my thoughts about taking Ethan down a peg or two evaporate.
“Ethan Blackthorn! Is it really you?” Mom practicallythrowsherself into his arms, peppering his cheeks with kisses. She certainly wasn’t this happy to see me or Margot put together. “It’s been forever!”
He blinks at her, finally shocked into silence.
I don’t even think he knew she was here.
Fine.
Today, she can be my secret weapon. He’s clearly not thinking about how to bribe me into a fake marriage scheme anymore—not when he’s occupied with escaping Mom’s claws.
“Mrs. Sage,” he says after a pained second where I want to fall through the floor. I’ve heard the center of the earth is nice and balmy this time of year.
“Oh, no. Call me Julia.” She playfully slaps his arm. So cringe. I’m positive she’s not actually trying to flirt with him, considering the age gap, but it’s a little too close for comfort. “It’s been forever since we’ve seen you around these parts, Ethan.”
“I move around a lot. Spent some time in California,” he tells her, right before she starts up again.
“My, have you been working out? You look so handsome. You’ve certainly picked up your father’s good looks!”
Sigh.
Is spontaneous combustion real?
Or maybe I should just pray for the inevitable death of the sun to hurry up and scorch everything on the planet to cinders.
“Thanks, Julia,” he clips.
“So what brings you back to Maine? Are you staying in Portland again?”
“Mom!” I hiss.
“Oh, right!” Her catlike green eyes widen as shefinallycatches up with the feeling in the room. “Your granddad. I wasso sorry to hear it. How could I have forgotten? I guess you’re here for his funeral? Closure?”
“Close enough,” Ethan mutters, his gaze cutting back to me.
I’m pretty sure my head is almost a tomato.
At some point, he’ll realize what a ginormous mistake he’s made by offering me a way out of this.
Mom lays a hand on Ethan’s arm, probably meant to be comforting, but she squeezes him like a slab of beef.
“You’re so warm,” she says, which is one of the most contrived excuses I’ve ever heard. “Come with me. I’ve got just the thing to cool you down.”
“No, that’s all right, I—” His protests are futile.
