Page 9 of Trustfall

“Well, that’s enough work talk. Don’t you think? Let’s let these two chat. Emory doesn’t have many friends, so it would be great for you two to get to know each other better.”

I can't decide if my dad is matchmaking or giving this guy something to laugh about with his friends later. I can picture Ashton and his finance buddies laughing over their Manhattans as he tells them about the awkward, loser girl his parents set him up with. You know, the one who wore a T-shirt to lunch and has no friends.

As if there’s nothing more to say on the matter, Dad pats my back and leaves the room with the Tylers in tow.

Ashton whistles, breaking the silence. “Shit, that was brutal. Just so you know, I had nothing to do with this.” His voice startles me, and I almost jump, still consumed by my blind rage.

“Yeah, you just had to nearly gag yourself to stop laughing at my lunch attire earlier,” I snap back, maybe a bit more aggressively than necessary.

“I wasn’t laughing at you. I just like that you don’t take shit from your father. It’s refreshing.”

“Oh.”

He laughs. “This is the third date my parents have set me up on in the past month. I have to say, you have been the most pleasant.”

“Thanks,” I say, but it comes out more like a question.

“They want me to settle down, get married, and have kids,” he goes on. “My parents are trying to overpopulate the earth with Tylers. I’m the youngest, and my siblings have five kids between them, but it’s apparently not enough.”

“Jeez. You’re like, what? Twenty-five?”

“Twenty-Four. But it’s never too early to have kids, according to my mother. Sheencouragedme to get my college girlfriend pregnant when we were nineteen.”

“Jesus. Yikes.”

“Yeah. She’s extra.”

“So, did you? Get her pregnant, I mean?” I ask, pouring myself another glass of champagne because what the hell? If I’m going to be forced into a date I didn’t ask for, I might as well drink the good stuff.

“Fuck no. I was nineteen. It just made me want to be single and fuck my way through the rest of college. Fully wrapped, of course. Sometimes double-wrapped. You can just tell the fertile ones.” He shudders.

A laugh bursts out of me, and I can't hold it back. Before I know it, I'm wheezing.

“I’m so glad my plight amuses you,” Ashton groans.

“I’m sorry. I’m just imagining the lengths your mom would go to. Do you think she ever poked holes in your condoms?”

“Honestly, I wouldn't put it past her.” He looks like he's imagining something, and a pained expression crosses his face. “I know I brought it up, but can we just drop it? I’d rather not talk about my mom being involved in my contraceptive methods anymore.”

“Okay, okay. Fair enough.” I bring the glass of champagne up to my lips, feeling the bubbles hovering before I take a swig. “Why do they want so many grandchildren, anyway?”

Ashton sighs, like he's told this story a hundred times. “Mom wanted a big family, but her last pregnancy with my little sister, Cassie, was tough, and it wasn't safe for her to get pregnant again. They're building their empire, and now it's up to the three of us to have kids and keep the family-friendly image of the Tyler Hotel Group going. My siblings have done their part, but I'm falling behind.”

“Shit, I'm sorry. But you get that our families have conflicting interests, right? My dad wants me to marry some guy who can be his second in command because he doesn't think my brother can handle it. I doubt your parents would let him take you away from their company when they're trying to build it up.”

“Yeah, they would probably fight over us if it came down to it. Right now, all my mom wants is for me to marry a woman who comes from wealth and has working ovaries.”

I wince at that last part, and suddenly Ashton's predicament doesn't seem funny anymore. It hits me that his parents are using him, just like my dad is trying to use me. I also realize I've been talking to Ashton this whole time without feeling that usual dread that comes with talking to guys. Except for Luke, but that's different. Talking to Luke makes me feel all fluttery, but talking to Ashton feels like talking to Allie. Maybe my dad is right—having one more friend wouldn't be so bad.

“So now that you are completely versed in the shitstorm that is my life, would it be a good time to ask for a favor?”

“Depends…”

“It’s nothing weird. I promise.”

“Okay…shoot.”

“Will you go on a date with me?”

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