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“Yes.”
“Are you close?”
“Very.” I keep my eyes on the menu as long as I possibly can. Try to hold on resolutely to my plan. But Genie’s texts are no longer merrily dinging. My confidence is fading.
Hold firm, Chloe.
The silence ticks by between us. My people-pleasing resolution is disappearing like a napkin drowning in water.
I catch the glance of a chef nearby, frowning as he dices an onion.
He’s judging me, isn’t he? He doesn’t know the story. He doesn’t know how James fooled me and broke my heart. Now I just look ridiculous. With each silent second stretching between us, it’s becoming more and more evident.
Look at Chloe, the owner’s wife’s twice-removed cousin’s niece. How sad that such a close relation to him would be such a public embarrassment and bring shame upon the family.
My ears are starting to pound with the beating of my heart. The heat of the open flame just a few feet away tickles at my temple.
“What about you?” I blurt out. “Are you close with your dad?”
Whatever opinion James is harboring about me at the moment, he doesn’t show it. No disgust has slipped onto his face. No tension. No irritation. Nothing conveyed openly.
No. He just sets down the menu. Looks at me with his lying face and says, “I don’t remember him, actually.”
Crap.
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“He passed away when I was two.”
Super great. Just ter-rific.
I bite my lower lip. He’s done it. He’s used tragedy in his own family to force me to make a sympathetic statement. Geez. As a narcissist, he’s good.
I swallow. Be strong, Chloe. Don’t say anything.
But of course, I can’t.
“I’m sorry, James. That’s . . . so unfortunate.”
He shrugs. Gives a liar’s reassuring smile. “It’s fine. I’ve always said my mother takes up the life of two parents. She also remarried shortly before I left for undergrad. He’s a good guy. I’m happy for her. Anyway, that’s nice about you and your father. What are you looking forward to doing with your dad now that you’re back?”
Stay away from conversation! Be horrible! Demand something!
“Oh,” I say. You are pathetic, Chloe. “Nothing, really. Dad’s version of extracurriculars is walking around the house with a drill fixing something. It’s how I spent most of my childhood.”
James’s brows rise. “And are you any good now?”
Don’t answer.
“I can replace a GFCI outlet or fix a leaky shutoff valve, but I wouldn’t say I’m any good.”
James leans forward. Scrutinizing me. “Can you replace a bathroom exhaust fan?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
I squirm, uncomfortable because him acting impressed is absolutely not supposed to be affecting me the way it’s affecting me.
