Page 13 of Honey Sunshine

It seems he might just fit in well with my family.

More importantly, how has he lived this long without getting food poisoning or setting the kitchen on fire?

Still, with that twinkle of excitement in his eyes, I can’t find it in myself to correct him—or turn him down either. I mentally berate myself for always lecturing Dad and Becky about the importance of honesty in relationships, yet here I am, unable to do the same with myfakeboyfriend.

Karma does work in strange ways.

“I look forward to it then.” I smile.

“Great! Do you like your eggs sunny side or boiled?”

Pasta with egg on the side?

Wait. Boiled as in... in the microwave or in a pot? You know what, as cute as he is, I’m not going to risk it. I, like most people, don’t want to risk food poisoning.

“Sunny side, please.”

“Okay.” He beams. “It’s going to knock your socks off! Alex almost started crying because of it!”

I’m sure he did. That’s a guaranteed stomach ache right there.

With that, we settle down to iron out the rest of our elaborate story and address any potential questions from Mom. I’m thankful that Dad is more easygoing, and isn’t likely to betoo nosy. But then, there’s also Becky and my niece Megan to consider.

Right.

Our first date? We like to think of the place we met as our first date.

Did sparks fly? According to Zach, we should say yes, it was electric.

Our first kiss? As cliché as it sounds, we were watching a movie and everything fell into place.

What do you like most about him? Everything.

Though, in particular? His reaction to the nickname I’ve given him.

Then on cue, Zach would scoff, and lean his head affectionately on my shoulder. That should convince them.

I take a sip of my bottled water and then place it back down. I already know what’s coming up next, but it doesn’t make it feel any less awkward. “Right, now that all the basic questions have been solved, here comes another hurdle.”

“And what is that?”

I hold his gaze for a moment, then reach into my bag and pull out a bottle of white wine.

His expression shifts to utter confusion as his eyes flick to my hand. “Uh...?”

Walking around the desk, I place the bottle down in front of him.

“This might sound a bit awkward but...” I meet his puzzled gaze. “If what I’m about say is completely out of line, just?—”

“Seriously, no,” he cuts in, standing up. “I’m not smashing that bottle over your head.” He folds his arms across his chest. “Just say it. Whatever it is, I can take it. I promise I won’t make a face.”

I eye him skeptically, unsure how to phrase it so it doesn’t come off as too forward.

“We should also practice things like holding hands and hugging, and maybe even kissing—you said you wouldn’t make a face!”

“I’m not, I’m not,” Zach exclaims, his face turning beet red. “It’s... I mean... it’s... of course we should,” he sputters, looking everywhere but at me. “It’s just kissing, like...”

“Like a peck on the lips kind of thing. Short and just believable enough,” I quickly supply.

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