Page 122 of Anti-Hero

She pulls the chocolate sea salt cupcake out, then glances at the logo stamped on the paper bag. “In Stamford?”

“Felt like a drive. Getting out of the city.”

“Hmm.” She takes a bite. “It’s delicious. Do you know when you’re headed to Aspen? Before the thirty-first?”

“I, uh … I was thinking I’d hang out at the Hamptons house instead this year. Is that cool?”

“The Hamptons house? This time of year?”

“It’ll be a bigger crowd this year. And most everyone lives in NewYork. The Hamptons are a lot closer than flying everyone to Colorado.”

She takes another bite of the cupcake, considering. “I’ll check with your father. Assuming he’s fine with it, so am I.”

“Great. Thanks.” My knee bounces once. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Another one?” Mom teases, holding up the half-eaten cupcake. “This is tasting like a bribe.”

“It wasn’t a bribe. Just a reminder I’m your favorite child. I don’t see Bash or Lili stopping by with baked goods.”

She smiles and reaches for her water. “Parents don’t have favorite children, honey. You’ll find that out one day, maybe.”

I stiffen.

My mom doesn’t notice, busy taking a sip.

One day.Maybe. I’ll find that out on or around May 18.

And I want to tell my mom all of a sudden.

When I was eating dinner with Collins’s family last night, I kept thinking how odd it was that those near strangers all know I’ll become a dad in May, but the people who raised me don’t.

I’ve never hidden anything this huge from them. This secret isn’t swiping my dad’s most expensive scotch or sneaking into a club on a school night. It’s big, and it’s important, and it’ll affect my life—and theirs—forever.

But I can’t say anything now. Not like this. I should tell my parents together, and it’ll feel a lot less like I’m sharing the news with the COO of Kensington Consolidated if my father finds out when Collins is no longer my assistant.

“What’s the favor?” my mom asks, and I refocus.

“Right.” I clear my throat. “I’m trying to find a dress.”

“Adress?”

“Yeah. I kinda drew what it looked like.” I shiftso I can pull a piece of paper out of my pocket and hand it to her.

It takes a few seconds for my mom to react. She still looks dumbfounded as she takes the sheet.

“It was gray,” I add. “A bluish gray. The color was called pewter.”

“Pretty,” my mom murmurs, staring at the rough sketch. She glances up at me. “What is?—”

“It’s a Christmas gift,” I state.

Both eyebrows rise. “For a woman?”

“No, for Ben and Jerry. I thought the silver would complement their coats.”

She huffs. “Kit.”

“I’ll tell you the whole story soon. But for now, can you just find the dress? Please.”

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