Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“That’s not a thing.”
“Just realizing that now. But maybe it should be.”
“Why are you out of breath?”
“Treadmill. Ten miles. I’ve got to ask a favor, but you don’t have to say yes.”
I listen to his heavy breathing for a moment, and it’s honestly distracting. “Okay, hit me.”
“Well…” I hear the glug of his water bottle. “My parents convinced me to stay with them during the wedding. But I was careful to say that my date was staying at the hotel for the wedding. You know, because it’s your family, and you want to be near them.”
I snort. “Plausible unless you know us.”
“Right, and so clever of me. Or so I thought. My mother just asked me if we wouldn’t like to come up the evening before, and you could stay one night in Marblehead.”
“At your house? Where you grew up?”
“That’s right.” Another gulp of water. “But before you answer, I should warn you that my childhood bedroom has bunk beds.”
“Bunk beds?” This keeps getting better. “Please tell me there are Star Wars sheets?”
“Hockey sheets. Duh. And you can have the top bunk if you want. Unless you’re scared of heights.”
“Such a gentleman.” I’m grinning now. “But seriously—you want to play it up to your grieving parents? That seems like crossing a line from fake dating into… I don’t know. White-collar crime?”
“I know it’s asking a lot.” His breathing is finally evening out. “I also told my parents our thing is sort of new.”
I giggle.
“Mom says she understands. But she still wants to host us. I think it’s her ideal distraction. I couldn’t get off the phone before she started planning her menu. Dinner and then breakfast.”
“Your mother wants to cook me breakfast.” I let that sink in. “That’s… intense.”
“It’s just eggs. Maybe pancakes. Nothing fancy.”
“With your fake girlfriend.”
“Who’s staying in the top bunk,” he reminds me. “Very proper. My mother will approve.”
I shouldn’t say yes. This is already complicated enough. But… “Are there embarrassing childhood photos? Because that might seal the deal.”
He groans. “So many. All over the walls. My mother will be happy to point out my awkward phase.”
“You had an awkward phase?” Oh. My. God. The decision just became simple. “This I have to see.”
Chapter 18
Not a Single Mullet
Eric
July
We pull up in front of my childhood home at five p.m., just like I’d planned. My parents probably would have preferred an earlier arrival, but I’m trying to shield Darcy; my parents are a lot like the sun—warm, but too much of them tends to burn.
“Wow, Eric.” Darcy opens the car door. “What a pretty house! And we’re close to the water?”
“Yeah, it’s about fifty paces behind the house. Rocky beach. Good fishing, though.”
She turns to me, wide-eyed. “You know how to fish?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“No. I wish. What a great spot.”
I look up at my family home and try to see what Darcy sees. The charming wooden shingles and the pitched roof. The hydrangeas in Nantucket blue.
To me, though, this is an oppressive place, and it has been ever since the day of my brother’s death.
Darcy hops out of the car and takes a deep breath. “Salty air. I love it. God, I was so ready to get out of the city.”
Her enthusiasm pulls me out of the driver’s seat. I grab our luggage from the back.
“Wait, just the smaller one,” Darcy says, pointing to one of her suitcases. “The other one is full of the clothes and shoes I brought as part of the pointless, lifelong competition I have going with my sister.”
Chuckling, I push the bigger suitcase back into the trunk and close the door.
The front door of the house opens, and my father steps out. “Eric! You made it.”
The excitement in his voice gives me a stab of guilt, because I visit so infrequently. “Hey, Dad. This is Darcy. Darcy, meet my father, George.”
“And me!” yells my mom, pushing past my dad. She arrives on the porch grinning ear to ear. “Darcy, I’m thrilled to meet you. Absolutely thrilled.”
Oh boy. If I were Darcy, I’d be terrified right now. But my date just smiles and holds out a tin. “It’s lovely to meet you! I made you these cookies, but it’s sort of a bribe. I was told there’d be embarrassing photographs, particularly from Eric’s middle school era.”
I can practically see the hearts forming in my mother’s eyes. “We’re going to have so much fun. I’ve made New England clam chowder and prime rib for supper. And Eric tells me that you enjoy strawberry rhubarb pie?”
Darcy shoots me a curious glance. “It’s my favorite thing in the whole world.”
I give her a harmless little shrug. She’d said so once during a road trip lunch, and I’d remembered.
“Well, you’re in luck, then!”
My mother leads Darcy into the house, and my dad follows them with his eyes. “You have no idea how much this visit means to your mom. I haven’t seen her cook like this in years. She just… needed something to get excited about.”