Page 64 of Phishing for Love
“At you, yes!”
Because this man has invaded my work environment, crept into my thoughts, intruded into my dreams, and turned them into nightmares. And now he’s trying to inveigle himself into my family. Enough is enough.
“Look,” I say, “I know you don’t really want to go Sunday.”
He regards me with what looks like genuine curiosity. “Why don’t you think I want to go?”
“Because it’ll be tense.”
“Why? Are your parents horrible?”
“Of course not!”
“You mentioned a sister. Is she awful?”
“She’s difficult,” I concede grudgingly, “but not awful.”
“Any other siblings?”
“No.”
“Then why will it be tense?” he persists.
“Nathan will be there,” I blurt out.
“Ah, the boyfriend,” he says knowingly.
“Yes.”
“Does he have a problem with me?” Aaron asks, all suspicious innocence.
I’m the one who has a problem with you, I think. For all the right and wrong reasons.
“No. I just...I don’t understand why you said yes.”
He stares at me for a beat too long. “Have you thought that maybe it would be nice for me to go out on the weekend and socialize? That I might not know anyone in town and this is a way for me to connect?”
I’m speechless in the face of the stark picture his words have painted. I’m also deeply ashamed. No, I hadn’t once thought that. I just assumed he had a string of women and friends trailing behind him. I’m struck with the swift realization that, outside of work, I know absolutely nothing about his life.
I wish there was a way to take back my words.
“I’m sorry,” I say in a whisper. “I didn’t think.” And that, right there, is my problem.
Into the long, awkward pause, Aaron seems to give up on the games. “I’ll come Sunday because of your mom, but I won’t make trouble for you, I promise.”
No, I think as I leave his office, he won’t have tomaketrouble. His very presence will be trouble.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Every day leading up to the Sunday barbecue feels as though I’m inching one step closer toward a Tess-shaped noose hanging from a gallows. By the time Sunday arrives, my nerves are shredded.
“I don’t understand why your mom invited Aaron,” Nathan comments as he makes the turn onto my parents’ street, his hands tight on the wheel.
You and me both, I think. “You know my mom,” I say casually. “She’ll invite anyone with a heartbeat.”
“True,” Nathan acknowledges, but he doesn’t look happy.
I shift the foil-covered glass dish on my lap into a more comfortable position. I’ve made a cheesy potato and bacon bake for today’s barbecue. It’s one of Nathan’s favorite dishes and feels a little like an apology for Aaron’s presence today.
