Page 8 of Honey Sunshine

“Hello? Mom? Are you still there?”

My brow furrows, and my hand instinctively pulls the phone away from my ear to see that the numbers are still counting up. Putting the phone back against my ear, I can still make out the faint sound of the TV, but the uncertainty and lack of response only adds to my growing confusion.

Mouth parting, I’m about to try again when she beats me to it.

“Give me a second. I’m currently saying a Hail Mary and praising the Lord Almighty.”

I don’t know if I should laugh or cry.

“Is it really that shocking, Mom?” I ask, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Perhaps I should have given this a tad more thought and plotting before telling Mom my boyfriend would attend our family dinner this weekend. However, with the dinner only a few days away, it’s not like I have all the time in the world.

So I don’t exactly have a choice but to speed run the entire fake-boyfriend operation.

Though in retrospect, I’ve always believed the best practice is to rip the Band-Aid off in one swoop.

“Is it that shocking?” she echoes on the other end of the line before snorting loudly. I brace myself for what’s coming because I know I’m in for it now.

“How can itnotbe a big deal? I thought you were going to die all alone and have me rolling in my grave! I haven’t been this happy since you came out of the closet and finally stopped all that emo-punk phase of yours.”

Oh, god.

Maybe I should have put way, way more thought into this.

“Mom, please don’t say stuff like that when you see Zach,” I groan, running my hands through my hair. I put her on speaker as I place the phone on the counter, picturing all the ways my plan could go terribly wrong.

“Zach? I love him already; he sounds like an amazing person,” she chirps.

“You know that from his name alone?” I counter, barely able to hold in my laugh.

“No, but you chose him to be your boyfriend, so I already know,” she retorts. “Oh, to think you’re bringing me the best gift I’ll ever receive on my birthday. A boyfriend, aboyfriend! So, where did you both meet?”

I instantly go rigid.

“Come . . . come again?”

“You know, how did you two meet? Did sparks fly? How did you know? Do you have photos? What do you like most about him? How long have you two rascals been dating behind my back before you decided it’s serious enough to tell me? What does he do?”

Damn, she’s like a machine gun.

But more importantly, I hadn’t realized until this exact moment my most crucial mistake?—

Making sure Zach’s and my stories line up perfectly and are convincing enough.

Shit! How did I miss that?

I asked a guy I just met to pose as my boyfriend in front of the people who know me best. How did I not immediately realize that was going to be a big problem?

Probably because I couldn’t stop thinking about how cute he was.

“We . . . uh, well, he owns an advertising agency that I’m interested in investing in . . .”

She squeals so loudly on the other end of the line that my coffee mug is moments from shattering if she goes just a tad higher.

“To think, you’d also be investing in love! Tell me more! I bet the meeting was a cute-meet. Did you know he was the one as soon as your eyes met?”

“Cute-meet?” I parrot, choosing to ignore the last question. “You mean meet-cute?”

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