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The napkin that peeked out of his sweater was coated in spaghetti sauce, and so was his mouth. “Yes, Grandpa, that’s it. I’m worried she’ll be swept off her feet by your handsome self.”
“I knew it.”
“Well?” Mom said, nudging me. “Will we meet her soon? How serious is it?”
I looked at Kirsty. She had a sickening smug look on her face, and if we were teenagers, I’d be wiping it off her face with a headlock. She had no idea what a clusterfuck she’d just created with her stupid little joke. It was one thing to mess with me, but to mess with someone she didn’t even know—that was low.
Maybe if I could play down the so-called seriousness of it all, then I could hold off my mom until Lauren and I “broke up.” That was about the only option I had right now.
“It’s new,” I said cautiously. “I don’t think introducing her to the family just yet is a good idea.”
“Why not?” Mom said. “Better she knows what she’s getting into. It’s your Grandpa’s birthday this weekend. Why don’t you bring her to the party?”
Grandpa shimmied in his seat. “More bitches for Ernie!”
Kirsty choked on her spaghetti.
Dad leaned over and took the glass of whiskey. “I think we’ll switch this for water.”
“I think not,” I said to Mom. “I can’t think of anything worse.”
“I can think of plenty of things that are worse than introducing your new girlfriend to your family. Poverty. No clean water. Malaria.”
“All right, I get it, I get it.” I rubbed my hand down my face. “We’ll see. She might have to work.”
“If she’s working during the party, she can come to dinner on Thursday night. How does that sound?”
Like I’d rather put my balls in a blender.
“We’ll see,” I repeated. I was not going to agree to anything that I’d regret later.
Although, I had a feeling that this was one battle I’d already lost.
***
I grabbed Kirsty before she could get into her car. “What the fuck are you playing at?”
She yanked her arm away from me and smirked. “You had fun with her. What’s the harm in one more date?”
“A ton of harm,” I said bitterly. “Just because we had a good time doesn’t mean that either of us wants to have a relationship. I don’t know what you’re playing at, but it’s bullshit.”
“Look, just text her. See if she’ll go with you.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure you can. It’s one message, Mase.”
“No, I can’t.” I shook my head. “I deleted her number and our texts. I can’t contact her.”
She stared at me for a moment. “Good thing I still have it, isn’t it?”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope.” She grinned. “Pass me your phone.”
“This is a fucking terrible idea.”
“I know. It’s why I suggested it. Gimme.” She wiggled her fingers, and I reluctantly handed her the phone out of my pocket. She tapped on the screen and showed me it. She’d added Lauren’s number to my contacts. “There. Just text her and see what she says.”
I snatched my phone back. “I’m gonna kill you for this, you know that?”
She shrugged and unlocked her car. “You can try, but we both know you’re gonna send this message.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna kill you.” I flipped her the bird before I got into my truck and backed onto the street so she could get out. She beeped her horn at me and shot me an annoyingly cheery wave out of the window before she drove down the street.
I stared at my phone.
This was insane. But I didn’t really have a choice. Kirsty had well and truly shoved me into the deep end with this.
MASON: Hey, can we talk?
I’d driven home by the time her response came through.
LAUREN: Who’s this?
MASON: Mason.
LAUREN: Oh, right, sorry. I didn’t keep your number. What’s up?
MASON: Nothing to worry about, but I need to talk to you. Are you free now?
LAUREN: I’m at work. My break is nearly over and we’re slammed. Is it important?
MASON: Not really. It can wait.
LAUREN: I start work at six tomorrow. Why don’t you come in then? We can talk there.
MASON: Sounds good. I’ll come straight from work.
LAUREN: Okay, see you then.
Fuck.
CHAPTER EIGHT – LAUREN
Can we talk?
Those were three words no girl wanted to hear from a guy, no matter the status of their relationship. They were most certainly not words you wanted to hear from a guy you’d fake-dated one time.
Yet, here I was, at work, waiting for Mason to come in here. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous about this conversation. I’d even go as far to say as I had butterflies, but I’d say it damn reluctantly.
I had nothing. I’d been rolling his words over and over in my mind ever since I’d gotten his text yesterday. The only thing I could think of was that he wanted to take me out for real.
