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“You’re not a boy... or a friend... or a boyfriend. You’re something else entirely,” she whispers, and now her smile looks real.
“Tonight, I’m yours and you’re mine,” I prompt with a meaningful look, “and don’t forget it.”
I take her hand in mine, press a kiss to her wrist, and lead her toward the restaurant. It’s showtime.
I’m nervous. Not that I’d show that to Janey or anyone else. But this undercover gig feels bigger and more important than any job I’ve had before. Janey needs this to go perfectly, and I’ll do anything to make sure that happens.
We follow the hostess’s directions to the private back room and I open the door, then press a hand to the small of Janey’s back to guide her in. The space is filled with dark walnut paneling, rich carpeting, and staid oil paintings of cattle and ranchers. The long, white tablecloth-covered table in the center of the room is covered with brightly polished silver, sparkling stemware, and a gathering of greenery and white flowers that meanders down the middle.
Though the room is full of people, no one so much as glances our way to notice Janey’s arrival. Even so, she takes my hand again and squeezes... hard. I can feel her nerves ratcheting up like she’s entering the Thunderdome and will have to fight to the death instead of having dinner with her family.
“We’re fine. You’re fine,” I whisper in her ear, keeping an eye on the room though I glance down at her chest, which is rising and falling too quickly. “Slow down your breathing. I’ve got you.”
“There’s Mom and Dad,” she says.
I follow her gaze, clocking the two people I need to impress the most.
Janey’s mom, Eileen, is short and thin, has a brunette bob that brushes around her jaw, and is wearing a blue dress with large red flowers along the hem, which is touching the tops of her knees. Her shoes are sensible block heels and her jewelry is minimal, only a tennis bracelet that I bet she pulls out of her jewelry box for special occasions.
Janey’s dad, Leo, is tall and has a round belly I suspect is from a more-than-occasional beer. His head is freshly shaved, and his smile looks easy as he listens to whatever Eileen is saying. Leo’s wearing boots, khaki slacks, and a green polo shirt with a pair of reading glasses tucked into the button placket.
They seem slightly underdressed for the occasion, but all in all, they look remarkably... normal. Which is surprisingly not uncommon when you’re talking about people who are shitty parents. They’re rarely the scary monsters we expect them to be. More often, the worst of the worst look like your neighbors, which is the scariest part of all.
“Let’s go introduce me,” I say, pulling Janey toward them. I have a few choice words for these two.
And the rest of the family too.
* * *
Janey
I can’t do this. I should’ve told Cole no. I should’ve laughed at how ridiculous the very idea of his playing my boyfriend is. But I wanted it to work and had myself believing it would right up until we walked into this room.
Now, sticking my head in the sand ostrich-style is sounding like a better plan. I want to run back to the cabin and hide. Skip the rehearsal dinner, skip the wedding, and go back to work next week like nothing happened.
But Cole is having none of Plan B, Janey the Ostrich Queen.
He marches straight up to my parents and interrupts whatever conversation they were having by extending his hand toward my dad. “Mr. Williams? I’m Cole, Janey’s boyfriend. Been looking forward to meeting you.”
Dad recoils in surprise, from the interruption and Cole’s very direct—and charming?—introduction. “Oh, uh... nice to meet you, Cole. Call me Leo,” Dad answers as he shakes Cole’s hand.
Cole shakes Mom’s hand, charming her too. “Your daughter has told me so much about you two. I’ve been looking forward to this,” he repeats.
Mom and Dad smile wanly, not hearing the thinly veiled threat in his words, but I hear it loud and clear. I’ve spent enough time with Cole over the past week to be able to get that much of a read on him.
Warily, I plaster myself to Cole’s side like I could hold him back if he decided to defend my honor or something insane. “So, yeah... this is Cole. Yep, my boyfriend, Cole. That’s him.” He glances at me and lifts a brow, the tiniest hint of a smile on the left side of his mouth. I should add that to the count, but I’ve completely forgotten what number I’m on, so I just enjoy it. “Oh! And Cole, this is my mom, Eileen, and dad, Leo.”
Mom and Dad exchange a look. I know that look—it’s the same one they made when I excitedly told them I’d won the fourth-grade spelling bee. They want to believe me, but they don’t. Not really. And okay, I’d admittedly been a little confused about the spelling bee. I won for my class, not the whole grade, but I didn’t realize there was a difference. And I definitely didn’t know I’d have to go onstage in front of the whole school to compete against the other classes’ winners. I mumbled my answer into the microphone and Mrs. Beckman declared it incorrect, even though I spelled hippopotamus right. I wouldn’t spell it h-i-p-p-A-p-o-t-a-m-u-s because then it would be a hippa, not a hippo.
So I do what I do best and launch into a monologue. “Yeah, we’ve been looking forward to this. Cole’s been super busy at work, but I told him we couldn’t miss Paisley’s wedding, and here we are. Me and my boyfriend, Cole. Are they gonna get started soon? I’m starving. I don’t think I had lunch today. Did we have lunch today?” I ask Cole.
“You made charcuterie boards,” he reminds me, “and we ate cheese cubes, lunch meat, and crackers all day.”
“Oh, yeah!” I say too brightly.
Dad leans over with a grin to tell Cole, “Probably a good thing she didn’t cook for you. She’s better at burning than baking, right, honey?” Dad jokes. “Remember the bacon?”
The last time I cooked anything at home was when I was eighteen, and yeah, I might’ve set the smoke alarm off that time, but for all Dad knows, I’m a chef now. I’m not, of course, but he doesn’t know that. He doesn’t care. In his mind, the joke’s set in stone, forever and ever, amen.
