Page 67 of Truth, Lies, and Second Dates
“Yeah, I noticed. That’s not a criticism, though. I thought it was pretty cute.”
He groaned. “Exactly what a grown man wants to hear.”
“Adorkable?”
“I’m too old to be adorkable.”
“Nobody’s too old to be adorkable. That’s just a straight fact. You have to accept my wisdom on this issue because I’m decades older than you in maturity and life experience.”
“You’re barely five years older than I am.”
“But, again—decades mentally.”
“I’m reasonably certain that I, in fact, am older than you mentally.”
“I’ll put my Inver Hills Community College degree up against your lame-ass medical school—”
“Harvard.”
“Ha! Couldn’t get into Yale, huh? Well, number two tries harder. Also, I know you are, but what am I? See? You’ve got no comeback for that devastating riposte.”
“I concede.” Tom rubbed his scalp, and his mood shifted from playful to fretful in half a second. “Abe’s old enough to be my father, but he isn’t. He was a member of my sister’s family, but not mine. And it feels distinctly odd to introduce him as a friend. It seems wholly inadequate.”
“Cawpley!”
“Well, what does your father figure / best friend / in-law think?”
Tom shrugged.
Ah. You haven’t discussed it with him. Well, it’s a tricky subject. “Abe, I think you’re dreamy. Will you wear the other half of this best-friend necklace I bought from a mall kiosk?”
“I have… difficulty navigating social scenarios like this. I don’t always understand what’s appropriate. And when I ask, sometimes I make things worse.”
“You’re talking to someone who almost had a giggle fit at her own parents’ double funeral. Trust me—you’re fine.”
His smile was so warm she practically felt it. “You’re very kind.”
“Uh, no. No, I am not. I can present a number of witnesses who will back that up, if you need it.”
“I prefer to make up my own mind. And Abe and Hannah will not mind if you join us. Frankly, the addition of a non–family member could be helpful. I cannot bear the thought ofanother argument with Abe over the pullout sofa. I need very little sleep—”
“Plus, that hotel suite isn’t a luxurious morgue drawer. How could you possibly be expected to get any sleep?”
“—and he has arthritis! But he insists that I take the gigantic bed, which is ridiculous.”
“Oh, well. In that case, I’ll definitely come to dinner.” A Tom/Abe slapfight could be fun. “You wanna tag-team him? We could do that. Or Hannah could invent some kind of hypnotic that tastes like cotton candy and use it to drug him into avoiding pullout couches for the rest of his life. Hell, she probably wouldn’t even need the drug. She could just hypnotize him with her geniusness.”
“That’s not how hypnosis works. Or genius.”
“Oh, look at the hypnosis expert. You hypno-snobs are all the same.”
“Hynes Convention Centah!”
“What is happening right now? What are we talking about?”
“I could tell you, but then I’d just have to hypnotize you into forgetting.”
He laughed at her. “I don’t always understand you.”
