Page 18 of The Masks We Burn

I swear every time we talk about my potential betrothed, it’s a different guy.

“Your soon-to-be husband.” My mother says it so plainly, so matter-of-factly, you would think I’d asked her about the time.

“Sofia, my love. Let’s just enjoy our brunch today.” My father runs a hand over my mother’s, who only smiles softly.

“But we must tell her who I found. He’s perfect, Amora. He manages one of the smaller hotels, but he’s young and has plenty of potential. He—”

“Yay for him, but I’m taken,” I snap, holding up the hand I casually hid until now. On my ring finger rests a three-carat solitaire engagement ring I found on Etsy and had overnighted. I’d like to think I’m fairly good at spotting out a fake of pretty much anything, but this one is solid. No way she can tell unless she carries a diamond tester in her purse.

Oh my God, what if she carries a fucking tester in her purse?

My mother’s gasp and wide eyes tell me she doesn’t as she snatches my hand from across the table and examines my finger. My pulse hammers in my neck so violently I’m sure she feels it under my wrist, the lie so obvious should she look at the signs. But instead, she stands, whips around the side of the table and hugs me where I sit.

“When? How? Who?” she squeals in my neck, and I recite my script word for word.

“His name is William. He is one of Spencer’s friends who I was only dating casually. But I guess watching Spencer getting engaged and finally start planning for everything inspired him.” I shrug and feign nonchalance as I turn an apologetic face to my dad.

I don’t like the idea of lying to him, but it’s a package deal at this point. “I didn’t think he was as serious as me, Papa. That’s why I never brought him around.”

His dark eyes soften and twinkle, a gentle grin tugging his lips up. I shimmy from under my mother as my father comes around for a hug. “You know I only want you to be happy. Safe and happy.”

I nod in his chest before releasing him. My father is vocal and honest about wishing he was around more during the super early stages of my life. He says because of that, and not being there to experience all the hardships my mother and I had, he understands her fear of me needing to be taken care of. And call me crazy, but I don’t fault them for that.

“I am happy.” Now that’s the biggest lie yet.

“Tell us all about him,” Mother says, readjusting her napkin as the server appears with our food.

“Yeah, yeah of course.” I nod my head but immediately dive into my Belgium waffles, anxiety wrapping around my throat.

I don’t know jack shit about William. Literally, nothing. Why the hell didn’t I ask him anything about himself? Shit. I hold up a hand, excusing myself from the table. “I have to run to the ladies room, but I’ll be right back.”

They both nod as I snatch my small handbag from the back of my chair and rush inside. I push through the glass doors, past the linen tables with fresh-cut flowers, through the buzz of clinking china and prestigious conversations, until I reach the restrooms.

Each stall is behind a tall door, inside its own room, leaving no room for eavesdropping. I dig through my purse and dial William.

“Heya, bunny.” His deep ass voice vibrates through my eardrums and down my spine, making me shiver in a pleasure I want to ignore.

“Eww, gross.”

William laughs, and I don’t think about how much I like the sound. “No pet names. Got it. What’s up?”

“My parents are asking about you, and I don’t have shit to say. Give me a quick summary.”

There’re some muffled sounds in the background, one with the distinct tone of a woman. It sparks a fresh bout of jealousy through my core, but I quickly shake it off. I tell myself it’s notWilliaminvoking the emotion, but the act is digging up a past one that jaded me slightly. Doesn’t stop me from being a smart-ass though.

“Cheating already, I see.”

“Don’t be disgusting, Mora. That’s my mom.”

My face flushes with warmth and for more reasons than I care to admit. “Wait, why are you talking in front of her?”

“Because she knows.”

Panic swells in my throat, my entire plan evaporating with the beads of sweat forming at my temple. “What do you meanshe knows?”

He pauses for a second, like he’s choosing the words he wants to use. Finally, he clears his throat, and answers. “She knows. So does my dad. But don’t start trippin’. Secret is safe with them. Now back to your question. I’m a senior at Whitman. Major is sports nutrition as of now. But don’t get it twisted; I’m not indecisive, just undecided. My family owns the largest potato farm in Idaho, though we do farm other produce. I box in my spare time, still watch Saturday morning cartoons, and love a cold bowl of cereal before bed.”

The uninvited image of William stretched across the couch, watching cartoons does infuriating things to my body, which might explain why I’m snippy. “Anything elseimportant?”

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