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My dad clears his throat and refocuses on Vince, “I have to admit when Lyndsey finally brought a boyfriend home, I did expect it to be some sort of wayward bohemian.”
“Yeah, she’s so creative she—"
“She sure knows how to pick ’em! Lynds, remember that guy you dated in college who never took his denim jacket off? I swear, he showered with that thing!” My dad hoots with laughter.
“Well, I shower naked!” Vince declares.
“Oh, Jesus,” Priya mutters before turning to my mom, “Do you have any more of that natural wine?” My mom hands her the bottle, and she refills her glass before draining it in one gulp.
I’m too paralyzed with abject terror to chug the last dregs of my natural wine. It’s like I’m watching a car crash in slow motion, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I can only watch from the side of the road. I reach down and squeeze Vince’s hand.
“He’s got a more complex skincare routine than me,” I offer with a laugh.
“Well, you wash your face with bar soap. I at least spring for a moisturizer. Gotta keep the mug camera ready. I’m approaching fifty.”
“No fucking way,” Abbie exclaims, “You look twenty-five! I gotta say, Lynds, I don’t blame you! I’d climb him like a tree!”
I’m resisting the urge to melt into an embarrassed puddle on the floor when my mom adds, “You know, you were my celebrity crush for a large part of the nineties.”
“Wow, like mother like daughter!” Cheryl squeals. Now, I want to die. I spy the cheese knife teetering on the edge of the coffee table and wonder if Allison would make sure that Vince finds love again.
Vince turns to my mom, “Thank you. I’m flattered. All I can say is Lyndsey has excellent genes.”
“She gets it from me. All Mark gave her was a penchant for spreadsheets.”
“Microsoft Excel is—” my father and I exclaim in unison. Vince laughs, and the tension loosens from his shoulders. He kisses my temple.
“Abbie, these appetizers are an absolute delight,” Vince says, loading up a plate to change the subject.
“I don’t believe in refined sugar!” Cheryl says. She fishes a Tupperware container out of her massive red leather bag.
“Babe, I made us some keto lettuce wraps.” She hands a slimy-looking lettuce wrap to my dad.
“Wonderful, that’s so thoughtful of you, babe.” He nibbles on the edge.
“Wait, refined sugar will still be there whether you believe in it or not,” Priya mumbles. She takes a mini-quiche and shoves it into her mouth.
“I’m surprised you eat carbs, Priya,” Cheryl says.
“What’s the surprise? It’s a holiday!”
“Right, but that doesn’t mean it’s an excuse to gorge ourselves. Although, I suppose rock and roll does lend itself to a life of excess.” Cheryl wrinkles her nose.
“I could never be with someone who travels all the time. I need stability.”
“Actually, with tour, it’s hard to find someone who understands, so it’s cool that Vince and I get to work together.”
“Wait, that’s how you met?” My dad exclaims.
“She seduced me with her spreadsheets and meticulous keeping of hotel check-in times,” Vince deadpans—Abbie, Allison, and my mom all cackle. My dad and Cheryl remain stone-faced.
“Isn’t that sweet?” my mom prompts.
“It sounds like an HR violation.”
“Oh, we don’t have HR!” Priya exclaims.
The tension between Vince and my dad hangs thick in the air. I can feel his judgment seeping through the room like noxious gas.
