Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Lily takes a sip from a can of Diet Fizz. “Must be why I’m wearing…” She has to look down to remember what she’s dressed in today. “Leggings and…” She frowns as she inspects the Spider-Man T-shirt. “Uh, I think this is Lo’s? Everything gets mixed up in the wash.”
“So true.” Daisy plucks a cat-ear headband off my mirror and places it atop her head. Blonde hair chopped bluntly a little below her shoulders. She smiles at me, radiant like the sun.
My cheeks always hurt when I’m around all of them. But I’ve smiled far less today. Pressure keeps sinking my stomach.
My mom finishes my hair. “You’re done, gremlin.”
All three women turn to look at me as I stand and approach my closet door’s full-length mirror.
Brown waves cascade on my collarbones, frizz successfully combatted. More presentable for a meet-the-parents dinner. This is my best foot forward.
I untie my cotton robe, a little hot all of a sudden. “What if I’m so awfully verbose and I annoy them?”
My mom snaps a glare at me through the mirror. “You’re not too verbose. You’re words are an asset.” She speaks like it’s written in stone and blood and all indelible things. “And if they don’t like you, then that says more about them than you.”
I love that she doesn’t tell me they will love me and give me a false sense of confidence. She lays battle armor on my shoulders.
Sometimes I feel as though I’m the daughter of Joan of Arc. Ready for war.
I try to take a breath. Another insecurity rises. “What if they hate me?” A good portion of the world does, and I catch all three sisters glancing cautiously at each other.
I spin on my heels. “I recognize that I’m only fake dating Thatcher—it’s not serious between us.” Do I sound defensive?
My eyes bug.
I keep going. “We will break up soon. We will. It is in the stars.” My collarbones protrude, my eyes burn. “But his family is special to him, and he’s my bodyguard. I’d rather them not hate me.”
“If they judge you that harshly after one meal, you don’t want to be loved by them,” my mom retorts.
Lily nods repeatedly. “What Rose said.”
Daisy looks at my mom. “Didn’t you throw wine on your mother-in-law’s blouse when you first met her?”
My lips rise, remembering this story.
My mom sighs at the memory, then flips her hair off her shoulder. “And I prevailed.”
“See,” Daisy smiles at me. “You could throw wine on someone, and all could end miraculously.”
I breathe in their encouragements the best I can.
“How are you doing with the fake dating thing?” Lily asks. All of them thought the ploy was a good idea.
I remember the notes he’s been leaving me, and I smile. “It’s worked rather well.”
My mom crosses her arms. “Security told me it’s dispelled some potential stalkers.”
“It has.”
Only a handful remain. Thatcher and the rest of security are taking care of them.
“So it was worth it then?” Daisy asks, adjusting the cat ears. “Fake dating your bodyguard?”
I picture all the nights we’ve spent together. “Yes, I’d say so.” I sound more morose than I intend.
Lily frowns deeply. “You know, you don’t have to go meet his family. If it’d be easier, you could just come up with an excuse.”
“Like a cold or 24-hour flu,” Daisy offers.
That thought sends a wave of knives into my stomach. “Why would that be easier?” I take the skirt and vest from their hands.
“Because,” my mom says icily, “you’re going to be lying to them. All of them.”
I’m going to be lying to his family.
To their faces. None of them think this is a fake relationship. His family believes we’re really together.
I understand now. My aunts and my mom are concerned about me. They want to protect me from this deception. In truth, I haven’t felt like I was going over there to lie or fabricate some story.
I haven’t been nervous about that.
I’m just nervous they won’t like me.
And I’m already lying to the people in front of me. The ones I love most. Who have no idea that I’ve been intimate with my bodyguard.
But I’m not alone in this. Thatcher and I are ensnared, and that has a comfort all its own.
I force out the words, “I want to go. Even if it’s hard.”
42
THATCHER MORETTI
“Ah, you buncha loud mouths. Statazitt’! I’m tryin’ to make a toast here.” One of my uncles raises his brash voice above the other fucking brash voices.
Songs by Lou Monte play right on top of that. “Hey Gumbaree” blaring at the current moment.
It’s all an Italian earful. And it’s home.
Sunday family dinner is a weekly gathering at my Uncle Joe’s row house. Braggiol’ already eaten, dishes cleared—after the meal, the women stay clustered around the table drinking coffee and eating cream pie.
Jane is in sight while I hang around the kitchen with Banks and the other men. More wine bottles being uncorked and poured. But my gaze is gripped on her.