Page 65 of Lessons in Faking
“Because the next one is fifty miles from campus.” A laugh accompanied his words. One I couldn’t help but enjoy, no matter how hard I tried not to.
“You know me way too well, McCarthy. How is that?”
“Reading people is one of my many talents.” I could tell thatlyingwasn’t one of those talents. But I let it go.
Twisting the box of chocolates in my hands absentmindedly, I asked, “What can we get your dad?”
“Nothing at all, if it’s up to me.” McCarthy attempted to hide the truth behind his words with a joking tone. It didn’t work. “I’m just saying, he’ll be there for dinner, then disappear in his office after the table has been cleared. For all I know, he hasn’t even noticed that you’re here.”
I turned in the cart to face him completely, considering the shift in his attitude. “You never mention him,” I began carefully, but McCarthy shrugged again, inspecting the aisles instead of looking at me.
“Well.” He sighed. Shrugged again. “Nothing worthy of mentioning. He’s basically as absent as yours—” He caught himself a little too late, eyes widening. “I’msosorry.” It shot out of him. “It’s just, he’s been basically absent since he realized I’m more capable of kicking a ball than throwing one. He tries to pay for shit, I guess, but—not that that’s equal to your—you—I’m really sorry.”
Somehow, I didn’t care much at all about what had slipped out. I liked how he spoke about my parents so casually, even if he’d mentioned what I was trying hard to forget. “So he’d rather have you play football?”
“Or work in a bank.Do something respectable,” he said, clearly relieved I wasn’t holding his words against him. “Anyways, there’s no need to get him anything.”
“All right,” I conceded, not wanting to push it. “But how else will I get yourentirefamily to love me?”
McCarthy considered me for a long moment. “Don’tyou worry,” he said. “You’re well on your way to being invited back for Christmas... and Easter, for all I can tell.”
“I really like them. Your family, I mean.”
“Good.” I could hear the smile on his face. “Because it’s allAthalia this,Athalia that. I wouldn’t know how to break the news if you didn’t.”
I chuckled, finding the thought objectively sweet. “Just like you, then.”
A beat of silence.
“No doubt about it.”
Chapter 29
Growing up in a four-person household—with usually only three of us eating because Dad was out of town, state, or country—I was used to leftovers, especially around Thanksgiving. Mom would give the chef the following weekend off, and we’d live exclusively off turkey, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce for three days.
Glancing across the table that definitely wouldn’t have any leftovers at the end of the meal, I was shocked to realize it was the first time today that I’d truly thought of my parents. Usually, my mind would be filled with nothing but memories: that one time Mom caved and got us fast food on Christmas Eve or Dad winning the season and flying us out to Disney World to celebrate for an entire weekend.
Those happy memories were rare, but not because I’d had a terrible childhood. More so because the bad overrode the good so quickly—it was barely a year after their death before all I thought about when I heard my parents’ names were the plane wreckage, the headlines announcing theirdeaths, and the way my aunt broke down on the phone before having to tell us her sister had died.
Goddamn it. Hadn’t this been about distraction? I snapped out of it with a shake of my body, tearing my eyes away from the few pieces of turkey left. The conversation around me was still animated, so at least my mental absence went unnoticed. I wondered if they knew about my parents—why I was here. How much had McCarthy told them?
I turned toward him, startling when I found his eyes on me already.So much for going unnoticed.
“Someone’s jumpy today.” He grinned, brows raised.
“Oh my God,” I muttered, letting out the breath I’d held in. “Don’t just sit there andstareat me,” I hissed in a whisper. “You scared the living daylights out of me.”
“By... looking at you?” The grin was audible in his voice, and I didn’t have to look at him to know it was probably heavenly.
“Yes,” I snapped. “By looking at me with those big beautiful eyes, and not saying a damn word—” My mouth shut abruptly, stopping my rambling before it could get worse.
Ididjust say that out loud, didn’t I?
It was a matter of seconds before he confirmed my fear. “Big and beautiful.” He hummed beside me, clearly pleased by the slipup. “I was about to suggest you should lay off the wine for the night,” he said. “But if it’s going to be the reason for more compliments...” His voice trailed off.
I scowled, finally sending a glare his way. “It was half a glass.”
More than that had seemed too dangerous to try around strangers, especially when I wanted them to like me. A lot. It was only after we’d moved into the living room, while watching Dakota (tipsy) debate Denise (flat-out drunk) on the significance of Taylor Swift’s entire discography, that I realized just how much.
