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The car grows quiet for a moment as I stare ahead at the road, thinking about what she just said. It strikes me how much I can relate to that, and not just about my father, but maybe about my faith too.
“So, where are we going?” she says with eagerness. I know I’m probably about to crush that excitement.
“My parents’ house.”
Her head snaps in my direction as her eyes widen in surprise. “What? Why?”
“Because I go every Sunday. Well, Iusedto. I haven’t been to Sunday dinner in six weeks, and I think it’s time I return…honey,” I say, adding on the romantic pet name with a teasing smile.
The shock on her face slowly morphs into frustration. An adorable little divot appears between her brows as she glowers at me. I can tell she’s working herself up, and I love that Sage doesn’t hold back. She’s not like the women I date: quiet, compliant, shoving their feelings down to avoid confrontation.
“Adam,dear,” she replies with grit. “The whole plan was to tarnish your reputation to ruin your father’s. But you’re using me to irritate him. I know that was the plan, but you’re taking it all too far. When are we going to get to torturing my ex with our fake relationship? So far, it’s all been about you.”
Tendrils of guilt and shame creep their way up my spine as I stare straight ahead, letting her words sink in. Then I snake my hand over to her thigh, resting it there as I look into her eyes.
“It’s just a casual family dinner,” I say softly, feeling tethered by her bright-blue eyes. “It’s really special to my mother, and I’ve missed it.”
The wrinkle between her brows slowly disappears. The tension in her shoulders melts away and she slides down against the seat.
I wasn’t going for sympathy and I wasn’t trying to manipulate her. What I said is true. I miss family dinners, and I don’t want to go alone. I don’t want to face my family’s scrutiny without someone by my side.
As we pull up to the house, I place the car into park behind Caleb’s SUV. After shaking off my nerves, I open the door and Sage does the same. We meet on the driveway, where I put out my hand and she slides hers into it.
When we reach the front door, I open it like I always do, feeling the eyes of the security camera on my back the entire time. Leaving the front door unlocked on Sundays is another one of Mom’s wholesome traditions. Normally this place is locked down like a prison, but she finds something symbolic in leaving it open one holy day a week, and not just for her children, but for anyone. Of course, no one knows it’s unlocked, but she does. And that’s all that matters.
There’s chatter coming from the dining room as we step into the grand foyer. Sage squeezes my hand, pulling her plaid shirt a little tighter around her chest to cover herself. And as we take two steps inside, I catch sight of our reflection in the giant mirror over the entryway table.
Sage sees it too, because we both stop. For a moment, we stand there and stare. There’s something about the sight of us together that holds my interest. It’s like I can’t look away. Like I love the way she looks by my side. Full of color and her skin speckled with art, she is far more interesting than my drab black-on-black appearance.
I slip my phone out of my back pocket and tuck her under my chin, both of us facing the mirror as I snap a pic. Neither of us is smiling, and honestly, we both look sad and yet beautiful as well.
“For the socials,” I whisper as I slip my phone back into my pocket.
“Did someone come in?” my mother calls just before appearing at the end of the hallway. She freezes in place as her eyes land first on Sage and then on me.
“Adam,” she mumbles softly.
“Hi, Mom,” I reply. Just seeing her feels like a punch to the gut. “You remember Sage.”
It takes my mother a moment before she can react, still in so much shock either from me showing up after so long or from Sage’s presence in general. But the woman standing in front of me doesn’t have a rude bone in her body.
“Of course.” She greets Sage with a smile, walking toward us with arms wide. “I’m so glad you came, sweetie.”
My mother hugs my date first, a warm embrace that doesn’t appear uncomfortable or forced in the slightest. In fact, even Sage squeezes my mother in return in a way that almost appears to be a surprise to her.
Then my mother hugs me, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek as she does. Suddenly being in her arms makes me feel smaller and all the filthy and hateful things I’ve done in just the past month come coursing through my mind like a tsunami of shame.
“I was hoping you’d come. I made your favorite,” she says with a smile as she takes our hands and pulls us across the house toward the dining room. I laugh to myself as she does because she thinks my favorite is her lasagna, but the truth is, they’re all my favorites. She couldn’t cook a bad meal if she tried.
As we reach the dining room, all the gentle chatter stops and a clang of forks hitting plates replaces the sound of their conversations. I feel my father’s heated glare on my face as I pull Sage under my arm.
“Uncle Adam,” Abigail shrieks, stealing my attention and forcing a smile on my face.
“Hey, Abby,” I reply, tousling her messy brown hair. Then, I realize my fake girlfriend hasn’t met my real niece yet. “Sage, this is my niece, Abigail.”
“Hi,” Sage says, awkwardly waving to her and then to the entire table. My brothers return the greeting while my mother busies herself, setting another place at the table. “I hope it’s not too much trouble,” Sage mutters delicately.
“Of course not,” my mother argues. “There is always room at the table.”
