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“Get a room, you two.”
I spring back at the sound of a very British accent, and Troy turns his attention to the man with a messy mop of dark hair.
“Hello, Mrs. Templeton.” His smile is almost boyish and his amusement infectious.
“Wow, I sound so old. Clara,” I offer, relaxing my fingers in my lap before offering them to him. He takes my hand, though leans in to kiss my cheek instead.
“Hugo,” Troy says, not quite a greeting yet not quite a reprimand.
“This is Leonora.” Hugo turns and gives a game show wave. The tall blonde smiles. Almost. The men all stand now, and further introductions are made before the newcomers take their seats at the table. “You’re playing up a division, boss man.”
I must look bemused as Max explains, “I know it sounds like English, but we’re not really sure it is.”
“Oi! My people invented the language.”
“Then you made it indecipherable.” The stunning redhead I saw at the office party is next to arrive. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little flustered that this must be Hannah. Tall, slim, and gorgeous, she has the most amazing auburn hair. “Hi, Clara. I’m Hannah,” she confirms, also offering me her hand.
“Hello. So nice to meet you.”
“What Hughie here is trying to say, in his own peculiar way, is that you’re very beautiful. Too beautiful for the likes of him.” She playfully bats the back of her fingers to Troy’s shoulder.
“My mom thinks I’m handsome.”
Hannah makes a disparaging noise. “Mariam is nice about everyone.”
I fight to keep my expression neutral as something uncomfortable sluices through my insides. I’m not sure Mariam would have anything pleasant to say about me.
Playful squabbles break out around the table, everyone claiming to be Troy’s mom’s particular favorite.
Interloper. I’m probably not the only new face at this table, especially as Hannah introduces her date, Garrett. But I know Mariam. Her soft voice and her kind hands, and those eyes so like her son’s. She used to make me tea in the kitchen and feed me her homemade almond cookies after I’d butt heads with my dad.
She made me feel seen and I loved her. Yet, right now, I’m suffering with the most pervasive sense that I’m unworthy of this shared moment. That my presence here isn’t legitimate. That I don’t fit in. I don’t fit in anywhere now.
“You okay?” Troy’s voice is low and his gaze concerned. Just like his mom’s. I nod, because what else am I supposed to say? “You’re worried, but don’t be.” He gives a one-sided pull of his lips. “Just imagine them—”
“Please don’t say naked.”
“I was gonna say imagine them as customers sitting on the other side of the bar.”
“I’m not abusing them.”
He throws back his head with a laugh.
“Share with the class, Troy Boy,” Hannah demands.
“Hansy,” Hugo puts in, “they’re newlyweds. I imagine we don’t need to know what they’re giggling about.”
Hannah looks thwarted rather than chastened.
“Troy just suggested I imagine you all naked.” My smile feels impish.
“Deviant!” Hugo announces, delighted.
“I do not envy you living with him,” Max says. “When we roomed together one year—and a year was enough—he was a nightmare of epic proportions.”
“No stories,” Troy warns, pointing a finger Max’s way around the neck of his beer.
Stories of socks on door handles and naked college escapades? Do I want to hear them? No, I don’t.
