Just then, my fake date Bodan’s silver SUV rolls down the driveway, coming in too fast for having animals roaming around the yard. Throwing my head back, I slip out a moan as I remember my mom inviting him over for dinner so she could “preapprove him” before we go public. He clearly wasn’t warned about the goats, and I cringe as I frantically search for signs of Crunch and Cinnamon. When I don’t find them, I’m a tad relieved.
Bodan pulls right up to the front of the driveway and steps out of his perfectly polished SUV, wearing a patriotic navy blazer, as if my mom already prepped him. He waves as he rushes up the walkway. “Hey, Lottie,” he says brightly. “Your home is incredible.” He does a double take at Toast. “Is that a goat?”
“Yes,” I say. “I have three, and they are master escape artists who never like to stay in the pen. Just a FYI, it’s always good towatch for them when you are coming up the driveway, and it’s best to drive slowly.”
Ty stiffens beside me. I feel it without looking. When I glance at him, a harsh smirk takes over his face. Bodan must feel it too, because he sticks out his hand. “I’m Bodan, the new-hire boyfriend. You must be—”
“Ty.” Ty takes Bodan’s hand, his face shifting into neutral, with no hint of a smile. “Longtime friend. I saw you at the museum, remember?”
“Oh! Great.” Bodan bobs his head. “Lottie has told me all about you.”
My brows pull together.That’s a total lie.I haven’t said anything. Aside from those few minutes outside the museum when we exchanged numbers, I’ve barely even talked to him. To hide a flicker of disappointment, Ty’s eyes cut to me. It hits me harder than it should. It sounds like Bodan and I have been talking a lot, when clearly Bodan was just sucking up to him—but how do I explain that to Ty?
“Hey, Lottie,” my mom’s pleasant, speech-giving voice cuts in from behind us. “If our dinner guests are here, please don’t make them stand on the porch. Show them inside.”
Rolling my eyes, I wave my hand toward the open door. Bodan goes first, glancing in all directions. Ty steps forward, stopping behind me, and grabs the door from me. “Go ahead.”
I want to go in because I’m starving, but my attention drifts to Toast, standing on the bottom step now. “Are we going to let Toast roam free?”
“Sure. Why not?” He shrugs. At this point, I’m about to give up on Toast ever staying in his pen, and I turn on my heel, leading the way inside. Ty follows closely, shutting the door behind him.
The house smells like whatever expensive candle my mother is currently obsessed with. The old dining room waits beyond the foyer. It has original décor, with dark wood paneling, and atable long enough to seat an army. A crystal chandelier throws soft light over the linens, and it’s honestly so formal that it feels intimidating, even to me. Every time I see this show I fight the urge to roll my eyes. We aren’t this fancy.
This event is all about onboarding Bodan.
Clean-shaven, my dad is seated at the head of the table, wearing a dinner jacket, just as my mom insists he be. His focus is out the long window. “How did the goats get out again?” he asks, to no one in particular.
“Opportunity,” my mom inserts herself into the conversation, already focused on Bodan. “So, you must be the gentleman Lottie told us about.” My mom spares no mercy as she gestures to the chair across from my dad, requesting him to sit. When he does, she plops down next to my dad and gets right to the questions. “Bodan, it’s wonderful you’re willing to work with us, especially on short notice. Think of this dinner as the orientation to a new job. Now, tell me, are there surprises in your criminal record we should know about?” she asks this so sweetly, I have to blink twice.
“No felonies, if that’s what you mean.” Bodan pauses to insert an uncomfortable laugh. “Or anything on my record, other than maybe a parking ticket.”
“That’s excellent news.” Mom is practically drooling, but it’s not from the salmon the staff just served her. She doesn't even acknowledge her food or say thank you when the waiter bustles around her filling her glass. “And as far as the job goes, we aren’t looking for a hard sell," she goes on. "Everything will be done with the upmost professionalism. A couple of photo ops, tops.”
“Looking forward to it.” Bodan pokes into his salmon, taking a bite without bothering to use a knife.
“I bet he is…” Ty mumbles so softly I think I’m the only one who hears it. I don’t miss Ty’s mouth twitching as he takes a seat by Ham, sitting as far away from me as possible. I’m assumingthat much space between us wasn’t intentional, but yet it feels like he’s somehow expressing disapproval by not taking one of the closer chairs.
Swallowing, I shift my focus to my mom, who is now glaring at Ty. He’s never been a stranger, since he and Ham are usually inseparable when they are in the same city, but my mom also has a way of making it known that he’s beneath her. “It’s so nice you could join us too Mr. Lane,” she says.
It sounds sort of supportive.
But it’s far from it.
It’s her fake attempt to smooth over that foot she still has stuffed in her mouth.
“Yes, ma’am.” Ty nods. “Thanks for having me over again.”
The staff finishes floating around us, placing the last of our food on the table. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this lifestyle, but Bodan appears to fit right in as he doesn't seem to find it off to have waiters in your own home. Maybe he lives this kind of life too? I guess I never asked about his upbringing. I could ask, but I really don't care. Not to be insensitive, but my mom's the one who wanted him here. She should talk to him.
I'm more concerned about the way Ty stares at me, making all my words dry up. When I grab my water and sip, I don’t miss, the moment I lift the cup to my lips, Ty looks away. He always does that, and I always find myself studying him, even when I try not to. I’ll never be able to rationalize how much of my brain is devoted to indexing everything about him. It’s embarrassing to admit, but he’s carved out a whole territory of brain cells just for himself.
“Well, Tyson,” my mom’s tone is soaked in stuck-up approval. “It appears you’re doing well and staying disciplined. You know, discipline is important.”
The way her eyes flick to me when she says that makes my chest tighten.
What does that mean?
Aside from the fact, every time I lift a fork or a cup to my lips, Ty looks the other way, dinner passes in a blur of conversation. Bodan fits in effortlessly. He’s actually a little over the top, throwing his head back and belly laughing at my dad’s lame stories. He even makes a point to compliment my mom’s blazer, which, as it turns out, perfectly matches his. My mother beams with pride. Oddly, it feels like they could be friends. I will never admit my mom had a good idea with this fake-dating stunt, but Bodan will be good for ratings. He’s charming in all the ways my mom notices. And I don’t even notice his chin mole.
