Page 80 of The #FakeBoyfriend Bet

"Game night?" Lena groans. "The last time we did that, Uncle Phil didn't speak to Dad for three months."

"It'll be fine," Jess assures her. "Brian and I brought Cards Against Humanity as a backup if things get too tense with Trivial Pursuit."

Robert Carter approaches, drink in hand—presumably the warned-about old fashioned. "Max," he says, extending his hand. "Glad you could join us."

His grip is firm but not aggressive—a neutral greeting rather than the intimidation tactic I'd feared. "Thank you for having me, sir. It's good to see you again."

"Hmm." He studies me over the rim of his glass. "Lena tells me you're working on music again."

The fact that Lena has discussed this with her father catches me off guard. "Yes, a bit. Still bartending mainly, but I've been writing and playing some."

"He's being modest," Lena interjects, her hand at the small of my back. "He's incredible. You should hear the song he wrote?—"

"Later, maybe," I cut in, not quite ready to discuss my music with Robert Carter. "If there's a guitar around."

"Dinner's ready!" Diana announces from the doorway, saving me from further scrutiny.

As we move toward the dining room, Jess falls into step beside me. "Don't worry," she whispers. "Dad actually plays guitar too. It's a potential bonding point."

This new information is both helpful and terrifying. If Robert is a musician, he'll have actual standards for whatever I might play later.

Dinner proceeds more smoothly than I anticipated. The food is excellent, the conversation mostly centers on Jess and Brian's wedding plans, and Diana seems to have forgiven whatever transgressions she associates with me, warming slightly as the meal progresses. I contribute appropriately, compliment the food genuinely, and make sure Lena's water glass is always full—a habit from my bartending days that seems to score points with her mother.

Tyler, the teenage nephew, remains engrossed in his phone until Diana confiscates it, at which point he slouches in his chair with the aggrieved air of the mortally wounded. I catch his eye and offer a sympathetic smile, remembering how excruciating family dinners felt at his age.

"So, Max," Diana's sister Elizabeth says during dessert, "Lena tells us you were in a band that toured nationally? That sounds exciting."

"It was," I admit, feeling Lena's encouraging glance. "We opened for some bigger acts, got to see the country from a tour bus window. Not very glamorous, but definitely educational."

"And now you're…bartending?" There's no judgment in her tone, just curiosity.

"For now. I'm also working on some new material, considering my options." The answer feels more honest than it would have months ago, when my guitar gathered dust and music seemed firmly in my past.

"Max makes the best cocktails in Brooklyn," Lena adds loyally. "And he remembers everyone's preferences after hearing them once."

"A useful skill," Robert acknowledges, seeming to genuinely consider it. "Particularly for understanding people."

The observation surprises me with its insight. "I hadn't thought of it that way, but yes—it's about paying attention to details, to what makes each person unique."

"Like how Dad takes his bourbon with exactly two ice cubes, never more or less," Lena says with a smile. "Or how Mom pretends to prefer white wine at events but actually loves a good cabernet at home."

"Details matter," I agree, meeting Robert's assessing gaze. "Especially about the people who matter to you."

Something shifts in his expression—not quite approval, but perhaps the beginnings of reassessment. The moment passes quickly as Diana stands to clear the dessert plates.

"Game time!" Jess announces with enthusiasm that borders on manic. "To the living room, everyone!"

The family migrates back to the living room, which has been rearranged to accommodate game play. The coffee table now bears a formidable-looking Trivial Pursuit board, cards stacked with military precision.

"Teams or individual?" Brian asks, clearly familiar with the Carter family game night protocol.

"Teams," Diana and Elizabeth say simultaneously.

"Individual," Robert counters at the same time.

A brief staring contest ensues between the siblings, which Diana apparently wins.

"Fine, teams," Robert concedes. "But no married couples together. It's too predictable."

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