Page 32 of I Think They Love You

Braylon beams. “It was lovely seeing you.”

“Don’t keep this one out too late.” She smacks Denz’s arm. “We want him rested for his next big career move, right?”

Braylon nervously scratches his jaw. “Oh, um. Right?”

“Can you believe he’s trying to be the next CEO of the family business?”

“Hardly.” Braylon’s snort is more surprised than anything.

There’s a distrusting gleam in Kenneth’s stare. Denz’s brain scrambles for another lie, but Braylon says, “We all know how superstitious he is. When Denz really wants something, he never talks about it out loud. Bit ridiculous, innit?”

“Excuse you, I—”

“That’s him!” Leena cuts in with a cackle. “He didn’t change his boxers for aweekwhile waiting on his UGA admissions letter.”

“Mom!”

She’s wrong. He didn’t change his favoritesocks,the same green polka-dot ones he wore when he made honor roll and acedhis AP Lit and Composition final. He’s a firm believer in routine, that’s all.

“LeeLee.” Kenneth touches his wife’s elbow. “We should go.”

After helping Leena climb into the warm, spacious back seat of the SUV, Kenneth pivots to Braylon. His mouth’s a hard line.

“Just so we’re clear,” he begins—for a second, Denz had thought they’d avoided this moment—“I want what’s best for my kids, always.”

Braylon swallows.

Denz chews the inside of his cheek as the cool night air descends on them.

“I don’t know what’s happening between you two,” Kenneth continues, “or how you ended up back together, but my son says he’s serious about you.”

“Mr. Carter, I—”

Kenneth holds up a hand. “I haven’t forgotten whatyoudid.” He casually fixes his coat’s lapels. Squares his shoulders. “It’s going to take more than one great night out to trust it won’t happen again. So, I expect to see you at the mayor’s gala. All the other events too.”

Braylon hesitates. “Of course.”

“Prove me wrong.”

Kenneth turns to tug Denz into a half hug. After, he joins Leena in the SUV. Its red brake lights disappear into traffic.

Ten seconds pass before Denz remembers to breathe. The city’s loud around him. Cars pouring music into the streets. People laughing, searching for their next drink, next party, next break from a long week. Underneath it all, Denz feels like it’s only him and Braylon on the sidewalk.

Brow deeply furrowed, Braylon stares into nothing. “Wow,” he whispers. “I forgot howintenseyour dad is.”

Denz’s laugh uncoils the tightness in his chest.

“That’severyCarter.”

“He’s gonna proper murder me.” Braylon’s eyes track a pack of college-somethings bottlenecking into an upscale bar acrossthe street. “He’ll hire a professional. An ex-CIA or former MI6 agent. While he’s chatting with Oprah, someone will be fishing my body out of the river.”

“He wouldn’t.”

Braylon whips around to face Denz. “Hehatesme.”

“Can you blame him?”

Fuck. Denz didn’t mean for those words to come out. Well, he did. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it a dozen times tonight. But he didn’t want it to be like this.

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