Page 111 of Triple Play
He leans down, kisses me soft and quick, and for a second I forget where we are.
Then I hear footsteps and shove him back.
Mrs. Dickson appears in the doorway, holding empty dessert plates.
“Oh. Sorry.” She’s looking between us with sharp awareness. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting,” I say quickly. “Just—talking. About school. Finals were rough.”
“Mm.” She sets the plates down. “Jordan, your father wants you for a photo.”
He leaves, shooting me an apologetic look, and I’m left alone with his mother and a sink full of dirty dishes.
“I’ll help,” I offer, because standing here in silence sounds worse.
We wash in quiet for a minute, her scrubbing, me drying.
Then she turns to me. “How long have you been sleeping with my son?”
I nearly drop the plate I’m holding.
“I—we’re not—”
“Please don’t insult my intelligence.” Her voice is calm, not angry. Just matter-of-fact. “I’ve been married thirty years. I know what two people in love look like.”
My mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
“It’s complicated,” I finally manage.
“I’m sure it is.” She hands me another plate. “Does he make you happy?”
“Yes.”
“Does he treat you well?”
“Very well.”
She nods slowly. “Then I don’t need to know the details. Just—” She looks at me directly. “Don’t let him give up his dreams for us. For his father’s expectations. He needs someone in his corner who doesn’t have an agenda.”
“I am in his corner.”
“Good.” She dries her hands on a towel. “Now let’s get back out there before my husband starts interrogating your other—friends.”
The way she says friends makes it clear she knows exactly what they are.
We play board games after—Monopoly, because apparently the Dicksons enjoy family trauma. I’m the banker because I’m “good with numbers” according to Mrs. Dickson, which really means she trusts me not to cheat.
Jordie lands on Boardwalk and groans. “How does Grant own everything already?”
“Capitalism,” Grant says mildly, collecting rent.
“This game is terrible,” Wyatt mutters. He’s in jail for the second time.
“Skill issue,” I tell him.
He glares at me but there’s humor in it.
The senator is already out, bankrupt from bad investments. The sisters are ruthlessly competitive. And Jordie keeps trying to make ridiculous trades that benefit no one except me.
