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I turn to stare at him. How long has he been lying to his parents? Did they think we’d been dating for a year? And if we’d been together for a year, why didn’t his parents know my name?
Andrew, the elder, takes another sip of whiskey and so does Baxter. Was Baxter only drinking when his dad drinks? Holy crap, this is all sorts of co-dependency bad.
I take a long drink from my tea, wondering how long I have to pretend to be Baxter’s woman. Will this be limited to tonight or will I have to keep this up for the weekend?
“We’ll be taking dinner at eight,” Lucinda says.
“Should give you time to change into real clothes,” his dad snips.
Bristling, I’m ready to tell him they were real, and that I design my own clothes, but I didn’t want them knowing anything about me. They had no right to the information. Instead, I give a weak smile and nod. Uncomfortable backing down, I sip my tea, really wishing I’d ordered a martini.
J senior finishes his drink, tosses two twenties on the table, and takes off. Lucinda uses her superpower and swallows the rest of her drink. Frat boys didn’t drink that fast, much less aging debutants but Lucinda had skills.
Alone with Baxter, I stare after his parents, not at all surprised when he slams the rest of his drink. Baxter shudders and coughs twice.
I turn to him, half wishing I’d ignored his call. “Your parents are—”
“Shitty?” He wipes the back of his hand over his mouth.
“I was going to say interesting.”
Baxter stands, holding out his hand to me. I know my mouth is hanging open.
“I’m gonna need an explanation.”
Baxter sighs. “We only have an hour.”
“Wait, you’re expecting me to come to dinner with you?”
The way he looks at me and blinks makes me shiver. His eyes have always been able to hold me. Why we didn’t jump each other’s bones in school, I don’t know.
I drink the last sip of my tea, wondering how my life has come to this? Why am I standing in a bar with a man who doesn’t really know me, contemplating going to dinner with people who I know don’t like me, wondering if I'd gotten with Baxter in college would his parents have forbidden our relationship and then thinking I wouldn't have minded if they had?
“I need more if you expect me to go to dinner with you.” It looks like he is about to sigh again. I hold up my hand, stopping him. “No, no more sighing. Just tell me everything.”
“I…um, they expect—”
“First, did you tell them you were engaged to me?”
“No, there was—” Baxter glances around, his face blanking.
I look over my shoulder. Four strangers are at the table behind us, and it seems like they’re listening to our conversation. Baxter takes my hand, tugging me toward the exit. His touch feels good, familiar. Like my hand belongs in his. I try to pull away, but he holds on.
“Please, we need to hurry. You have to change. You can’t wear what you’re wearing to the place we’re going.”
“What?”
“Listen, I’m not going to—I don’t mind what you’re wearing right now, but this place is formal, or more formal than a bar.”
I roll my eyes. I hate this feeling. “I have my dress from work. So we have enough time for you to talk.” I let my bag fall off my shoulder and pat it. Okay, the dress may have wrinkles, but it will be fine—hopefully. My supplies from the gym are with me too. I can totally make myself over before dinner with J and L—I’d shortened their names because I was tired of their BS.
“Fine, but I can’t have this conversation here. There are too many people.”
I lift a brow and wait for him to say more. His lips thin and he turns. I follow, knowing I’ll regret it later.
Memories from our past hit me full force as we walk together. In college, he’d convinced me to go to dinner with our friends at this trendy lights-out place. I’d been hesitant but gone along, thinking it would be an experience.
We'd been led single file into the restaurant, holding each other's hands. The evening had started okay until someone spilled a freezing cold, sweet alcoholic beverage down my shirt. I'd shrieked and jumped up. What else was I supposed to do? When I'd jumped out of my seat, I'd bumped into someone which caused me to turn, but my foot caught, and I grabbed onto Baxter.
