I mean, I hardly notice it when I accidentally look at it.
I don’t think it’s contagious.
After all, my mom would be one of the first to know about a new disease.
Across the table, Ty cleans his plate without saying another word. As soon as the plates are cleared, he slides his high-back chair away from the table and says, “Thank you for everything, Mrs. Halloway, but I should get going.”
I stand, not waiting for Ham to offer. “I’ll walk you out.”
“Oh, nonsense.” My mom makes a sweeping gesture to control my movement. “You can sit while we have coffee with Bodan. That is, if he will stay. Ham can see his friend out.”
I freeze.
Bodan looks pleased and raises his brows at me. “If that’s okay with Lottie, I’d love to stay for coffee.”
“It’s fine,” I hear myself huff, as something in me cracks a little.
We all stand at once, like we’re being directed by a conductor, and move to the living room, where the staff has coffee and tea service set up. My eyes lock on the floor as I move all the way to the end of the biggest sofa. I hope Bodan takes the hint not to sitnext to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ty leave without looking back.
In the oddest way, my heart stumbles. It feels like I’m losing something I never had. As happy as my mom is, I know without a doubt this fake-dating thing is a terrible idea. I’m lying to myself, and it’s sending the wrong message to…people I care about. Shame rushes through my gut, scraping at my intestines like shattered glass.
Bodan lets out a pleased sigh as he sits beside my mom on the other sofa, already laughing at something she says.
Everyone looks happy.
The waiter comes over and hands me a piping coffee cup, which is good in a way because it gives me something to stare at. I can't help wondering why it feels like I’ve somehow hurt Ty.
That’s crazy.
All I did was exactly what he agreed I should do.
twelve
Tyson
Hamcollectedarandomhacky sack from somewhere and tosses the knitted ball from hand to hand. “So, how’s this new celebrity team going?” He opens the front door more with his elbow and crosses the porch with me.
“Celebrity,” I echo with a forced chuckle. “Whatever, you say.”
“So, ah, this might seem out of the blue, but I was watching you watch her tonight.” He tosses the hacky sack one-handed and catches it, seeming to avoid looking at me. “Have you ever…told—”
“Nope.” I cut him off before he says anything. I can’t hear any words about Lottie and my feelings. It’s as if hearing themwill make them even more real. I’m having a hard enough time ignoring them as is.
His lips part as he tilts his head and squints. He focuses on me in a way that makes my cheeks burn, like he somehow read all my hidden thoughts about Lottie. “Dude, I don’t understand it.” He swallows hard, almost as if he’s suppressing throwing up. “I mean, she’s my sister, but maybe you should talk to her.”
“I can’t.” I steel my jaw and take a step toward my car. This conversation is risky, and on the off chance I accidentally say something I shouldn’t, I’m ready to bolt. “She’s too perfect.”
A whip-loud chuckle cracks out of him, and I startle.Is he mocking me?In my defense, I go off, “Maybe at one time I could have tried to say something. Things were easier years ago—especially when we were at the lake—but now your mom has this whole issue with hockey players, I need to stay away. This isn’t blowing over, and I wouldn’t want to put Lottie in a weird position. Plus, my grandpa used to tell me something.” I drop my gaze to the ground, knowing it’s cheesy, but I trust my late grandpa more than most people. “He said, ‘If a woman likes you, she’ll let you know. Until then, it’s the gentlemanly thing to not push her.’”
He blows out a breath as he tosses the hacky sack again. “I think that advice might be a little outdated, but whatever.” I shrug and can’t reply before he rushes on, “You have to remember, my mom’s had Lottie in a bubble. She doesn’t date—ever. She more than likely doesn’t know how to tell you she’s interested—ifshe even is. But”—he arches his brow at me, tension building from the sharp angle—“it’s just, you know, you sort of look like you’re going to be ill. I hate seeing you like this.”
With my words frozen, I give him aI’m-clearly-in-pain-but-I’m-dealing-with-itshrug.
He seems to catch my drift and looks away. “Hey, do you have a few seconds to fix another gate? Toast is on your car.”
“What do you mean, Toast is on my car?” My eyes zero in on my car, a goat glares at me from the roof. “That’s not even my car! It’s a rental,” I grumble as I fly forward, waving my hands and yelling, “Shoo!”
“Look at it this way.” Ham laughs, moving forward to assist me. “If he punches a hole in it, you’ll have free air-conditioning.”
