Page 10 of My Merry Mistake
“Be serious for once,” I say.
“I am!” But everything about his tone says otherwise. The last thing I need is to fall for this act and end up as the butt of some locker room joke.
“I don’t date hockey players,Brookie,” I say.
“That’s great, because I’m not a hockey player. I’m just a guy who happens to play hockey.”
I steel my jaw, ignoring the wordplay. “Are you going to keep this secret or what?”
At that moment, the door to the kitchen opens and Poppy walks in, a curious expression on her face. “Keep what secret?”
My eyes dart from her to Finn and back again.
Her eyebrows are perked up, clearly expecting an explanation. My brain is completely blank. I’m not a great liar.
Finn picks up the pizza and shakes it. “We’re ditching the party food and making frozen pizza. Don’t tell anyone.”
For a second, I don’t think Poppy is buying it. But then the oven beeps, right on cue.
“It’s your party,” she says with a smile. “I don’t think anyone cares.” She looks at me. “You good?”
“I’m good,” I say.
She glances at Finn, then back at me, then walks out of the room.
In the silence, I dare to meet his eyes, not at all surprised to find him smiling. “Oh, yeah. I think I’m going to like keeping your secret.”
Chapter Three
Raya
Present day
Engaged.
I have a sister who is engaged.
I know that’s supposed to make the parents feel old, but it sure does something to older sisters with no prospects too.
Today is Poppy and Dallas’s engagement party, and while I’m ecstatic for my sister, I didn’t realize until I was getting ready to leave my house that showing up here alone is a unique kind of awful.
I shift the rearview mirror so I can see more of my face and pull a lipstick from my bag. Before I apply it, I give myself a stern look and say, “This is not about you, Raya.”
And it’s not. I know it. I’m not selfish . . . just lonely.
I wish there weren’t so many events where you’re really supposed to have a plus-one. It’s like finding a prom date once every few months, and that was stressful enough the first time.
I cap the lipstick, tuck it in my bag, and open the door of my Altima.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
I glance up and see Finn standing beside my car, dressed in neatly tailored dress pants, a blue button-down, and matching tie. Even I can admit the man looks good. Since he grew up in Montana, I have a mental picture of him on horseback, lasso swinging, wrangling cattle.
And I wish I could say that made him less attractive.
I get out of the car, and Finn gives an overacted, presentational bow.
“You look stunning, as always.”
