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I let him pull me against him a little tighter. I thread my arm around his back and lean in as he presses another kiss to my temple.
“Faye Ellen,” Mom says, her eyes narrowed despite her social-climbing smile. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Zeke gives me a little squeeze and I clear my throat.
“This is Zeke. Zeke, my parents Maureen and Jack.”
“Zeke?” Dad asks as they shake hands.
“The boyfriend,” Zeke says with a winning smile. My stomach drops and my heart feels like it fell off a roller coaster. He strokes my shoulder with his thumb and I force my mouth into a tight smile.
“Boyfriend?” Mom asks, her eyes darting to mine.
“Like I said, I’m so sorry I missed it,” Zeke says, leaning in to kiss Mom’s cheek in greeting.
“Oh,” Mom says, smiling too tightly, which has the effect of stretching the wrinkles she pays good money to kill with poison.
“It’s okay,” I say, finally looking up at him. His eyes narrow, as if he can see right through my mask.
“Faye Ellen, you should have said something,” Dad says, hands on his hips. It’s as if he’s trying to make himself look taller or more spry now that he’s standing next to Zeke.
“I guess it didn’t come up,” I say with a little shrug. “It’s not like you asked.”
“Oh, you know Faye,” Zeke says with a light chuckle as he gently plays with the end of my hair between his fingers.
My cheeks flush and Mom tilts her head approvingly.
“So, where was it you said you’re from, Zeke?” Dad asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I didn’t, sir,” Zeke says, putting his free hand in his pocket. “I’m from Moscow, Idaho, but I’ve been here in Portland for the last two years. I was actually spending the afternoon with my niece and nephew. They can be a handful.”
“And what is it you do, Zeke? When you’re not watching your niece and nephew?”
“I play professional hockey, sir.”
“You play professional hockey?” Dad asks, giving me an appraising glance. Mom’s grin turns downright voracious.
“This will be my third season with the Portland Ptarmigans.”
“Well, how about that?” Dad says, with an appraising nod that looks like the closest thing to approval he shows.
“This certainly changes things,” Mom says.Relief colors her tone as if all isn’t completely lost.
“Changes what things? What did I miss?” Zeke asks, looking back and forth between us.
“It looks as though you’ll be bringing a date to the wedding after all!” Mom beams and Dad looks relieved.
My stomach sinks at that look, and I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Deep down, I know I’m an accomplished woman worthy of respect. But it’s only when Zeke shows up and says he’s my boyfriend that they decide I’m worthy.
“Why didn’t you just say so?” Dad grins.
“Well, I—uh, you know. With, his schedule.” Yes. This is good. I can get him out of this. When the wedding comes I’ll have an excuse for why he’s not there. “Zeke’s season starts in October.”
“But, of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Zeke says, squeezing me into him again. This time he keeps me there. He holds me against him with a steady hand and just the right amount of pressure, and despite myself, I exhale.
“Well, that’s wonderful!” Mom says, actually clapping her hands together like a caffeinated cheerleader.
The three of them chat about the wedding and weather in Vermont in early October, and the whole time his arm never leaves my shoulders, his thumb tracing soothing circles along the back of my neck. When Zeke promises to start researching airfare, they start with their excuses for why they can’t come inside my ‘charming’ house and the car they’ve ordered pulls up.
