“Oh, was that today?” I say, as weakly as my willpower. “I decided to get dessert at the last minute.” Which is true, but if I’d been honest about my aversion to excessive fitness, maybe I wouldn’t be in this awkward position?
“No dessert for deserters,” Finn teases. At least, I think he’s teasing. “Oh, hey, Austin,” he says as if he just noticed who was at the table with me. “I’ve been meaning to ask if you want to shoot some hoops with me and a few friends?”
“I’ll let you know.”
They chitchat idly for a few minutes about basketball, and then I walk outside with Finn.
“Sorry about missing the gym.” I should confess why I didn’t show. “I just—”
He cuts me off, “You can make it up to me by coming to dinner with me.”
A bit relieved I don’t have to have this conversation in the parking lot, I agree, “Okay.”
“I’ll pick you up at six.” He kisses my forehead. “We’ll talk later.”
Yes, we’ll have a serious talk. At dinner, I’ll tell him all the things I want to say and everything will work out.
Eleven
Internet experts recommend waiting, at minimum, three months to introduce family. Of all the rules, I’d say this is most critical to heed.
I knew I should have made Finn turn the car around when he released the news that dinner would be at his parents’ home. How do you fail to mention something that important? After being blindsided, I was too nervous to discuss the excess exercise. While he blasted Beethoven, I spent the twenty-minute drive researching appropriate time frames and one month-ish is not within the recommendation.
Breaking this commandment has resulted in dire consequences, preventing me from being accepted into the family fold. Seems like Finn’s parents are a fifty-fifty split on me, and I’m at a loss on what to do to salvage this connection. It’s important to love your boyfriend’s family. And they should love you. Or at least tolerate you.
At this moment, I can only hope the spider indeed bestowed superpowers on me and I’ll shoot webs from my hands and swing out of here.
“Why don’t you lift Chloe over your head,” his dad, Phineas, says. “Show us how strong you are.”
Finn chuckles beside me on the linen-clad sofa, and I swear he’s contemplating it. “She’s wearing a dress, Dad.”
“That she is,” Phineas murmurs.
As his cornflower blue eyes do a lazy track over me, I…I am appalled.
Since we arrived for dinner, Phineas has not stopped flirting with me. It’s overt and unsettling. A lingering hand on my shoulder after pulling out my chair at dinner. Placing my napkin in my lap. Making a “That’s what she said,” comment when I remarked, “I’ve never seen one that big” regarding their chandelier.
None of my ex-boyfriend’s fathers made me feel uncomfortable, and I’m doing my best to pretend it isn’t happening. I’d rather endure the daggers being thrown my way from Finn’s new-ish stepmother.
“So, you’re an artist?” Jacqueline, hurling another subliminal knife at me with her narrowed hazel eyes, asks.
I fend off her dagger with a timid smile, hoping I’ll wear down her hostility with my sunny demeanor. “Yes. A potter, specifically.”
“I have no idea what that is,” she says from a throne-like chair in their museum of a living room.
Finn failed to mention his family’s obvious wealth. My mouth literally dropped open when he pulled into the circular drive of the Tudor-style mansion. The opulent house is filled with pricey artwork and plush furnishings. Which begs the question—why is he trying to move in with Austin?
“I make pottery,” I tell her.
She scoffs over her scotch tumbler as if I’m a peasant on the verge of being tossed out. “And you earn money doing that?”
“Well, not yet. But I have a full-time job at It’s Clay Time. I teach pottery classes to kids.”
Beneath the chandelier’s sparkling lights, this fancy form of interrogation is not going well. Why doesn’t she like me? I’m likeable. I work with children, dammit! This is all so bizarre. There’s a chance she doesn’t like me because I can’t stop staring at her. It’s impossible not to, though. First, in a chic white pantsuit against the regal scarlet upholstery, she looks like a badass queen. Second, and most important, Jacqueline and Phineas look like older replicas of me and Finn. If I were to keep up with the exercise and somehow acquire gobs of money, it’s as if I’m seeing an uncanny future reflection of myself.
I mean, Finn has to realize this. Ew. Does he? Is that why she’s looking at me as if someone told her I stole all of her Gucci. To test the theory, I place my hand on Finn’s thigh.
Double daggers. Oh my God. Surely not?
“And what do you do, Jacqueline?” I ask. Because, I know nothing about these people, other than what I’ve gleaned from being here in the last hour—they’re as healthy as Finn based on the walnut salad for dinner with no dressing. Or, as Phineas called it, a “naked” salad.
“She looks pretty all day,” Phineas says. “That’s her job.”
Instead of throwing her wine at him, she bats her long lashes and gives him a coy smile. “Thank you, honey.”
Phineas rests his shoulder against the marble mantle. “Finn mentioned you work out at SuperFit. How do you like it?”
“It’s good,” I lie. “Finn is a great trainer.”
“Glad to hear that. I own them.” Wait, what?
“You own SuperFit?”
“Yep. Two hundred gyms across the country. Finn will take over when I retire.” He flexes his bicep. “That might be a while, though.”
When I glance over at Finn, his hooded gaze gives nothing away. That’s a big deal he didn’t mention it. We’ve only worked out there a bazillion times.
“So, you’re just kind of working there to be like an undercover boss?” I ask Finn.
“Something like that,” he says. “Have to pay my dues.”
Phineas pushes off the mantle. “Why don’t we burn off that dinner? We have a bowling alley in the basement.” He crosses to me and holds out his hand. “Let’s have a tournament and see if you’re a SuperFit girl, Chloe.”
This feels like a challenge, of sorts. I really don’t want to take his hand or be a SuperFit girl. But what choice do I have?
“Is bowling really going to show you what kind of girl I am?” I hesitate to even ask.
“Bowling requires strength and agility. It requires focus. It’s both mental and physical. Playing the beautiful game will absolutely show us what kind of girl you are.”
I can’t wait to disappoint.
With my hand tucked in his arm, I’m led out of the living room and down a wide hallway full of framed pictures of the family at various stages of their life. A toothless Finn grins at me from atop a mountain peak as we pass, and I’d rather spend time here, studying the photos, but that’s not going to happen.
At the end of the corridor, we stop at a set of double doors. Phineas pushes a button and they slide open.