That’s when I realize this night isn’t going to be anything like all of the rest. Jake is by my side. I have a sidekick. Someone to shoulder some of the weight and help me deflect the fiery scowls my mama will throw at me.
I’m feeling lighter and hopeful as we step into the room together. And then, as plain as day, I can spot the trap, and I want to turn around and bolt again. In fact, I do. I spin out of Jake’s hand and make a beeline for the door, but Mama catches my arm before I can escape, and I realize it’s too late. We’re toast. Done for. All good feelings are gone.
Mr. And Mrs. Murray are seated on a loveseat, and Tyler is standing by the beverage cart with something amber-colored already floating in the glass in his hand. I hate when he drinks. It makes him cockier. And handsier.
I’m now realizing that this is what my parents were hoping would be a family dinner. Because that’s what they want all of us to be: one weird, competitively dysfunctional family. I wouldn’t be surprised if I looked in the corner and found a preacher gagged and tied until they were ready to force him into officiating a ceremony.
“I thought you said we would be having a dinner party with important guests,” I hiss at my mother. She’s no longer Mama to me. It’s Mother from here on out. I knew she was underhanded, but this feels like too much. Forcing me to eat and be merry with people whom I have clearly been avoiding.
She’s got her fake pageant smile on and that disgustingly sweet voice that gives me PTSD. “Of course I did. Because these are the most important guests, dear. It’s been much too long since you’ve seen Tom and Amy.” She’s spinning me around, and old habits really must die hard, because I’m pasting my fake smile on too, even though I really want to stomp on my mother’s foot and yell “NEVER!” before running out of the room.
I just keep reminding myself, though, to not rock the boat tonight. Get in. Grab the check. Get out.
“Evie, how nice to see you again!” says Amy Murray. She’s as feline as I’ve ever seen. The only woman who could ever give my mama a run for her money. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right? Mama and Amy act like friends; they keep everything Southern sweet, but there is the unspoken code between them that says if you double-cross me, I will destroy you. “Tyler, dear, come see Evie! How long has it been since you two have seen each other?”
My eyes meet Tyler’s, and he’s smirking like the devil as he looks between me and Jake. I feel a chill settle over me, and I’m worried that Tyler is in on this trap. I fall in line beside Jake, and suddenly, I feel his hand wrapping around my shoulder. “Mine,” says his arm, and I like it. Maybe if I Sharpie his name across my forehead for the rest of the night, everyone would get the picture that I’m never going to be Tyler’s, and whatever they are planning won’t work.
“Actually, Tyler and I already ran into each other a few days ago. By the way, how’s that rash treating you these days, Tyler? I hope it’s all cleared up.”
“Evie Grace, always such a jokester,” says Tyler, rounding the loveseat to come stand in front of Jake and me. He’s wearing a suit that I’m sure costs upwards of five thousand dollars and sticks his hand out toward Jake, giving him his most winning (vicious) courtroom smile. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Tyler Murray. Longtime friend of Evie.”
Looking on, you might think this is polite. No way. This is a strategic power move, because now, Jake is forced to let go of me to shake Tyler’s hand.
“Jacob Broaden. Guy who’s lucky enough to be dating Evie,” says Jake, and I cringe because he’s broken my second rule. Keep your mouth shut.
Everyone in the room chuckles like they’ve already somehow rehearsed this little skit before we arrived and know their cues.
Daddy swoops in out of nowhere. “You’ll have to be more specific than that, Jake. Any number of men could boast that same title.” Umm, that is so not true. Not even a little. Well, actually, it’s just a tiny bit true. But it’s not my fault that guys don’t want anything serious with me. If they take me out, it’s only for one night, and when I don’t sleep with them at the end of it, they don’t call again.
My smile tightens, and I look at Jake, afraid that he’s going to be mad by what he’s heard, given his past relationship with his wife. I know he’s skittish. But when I look up, he gives me a reassuring smile and puts his hand on my lower back again. “I’m just grateful to have made the cut, then.”
We all continue on with small talk for a few minutes about the law firm and how much Tom misses being in the thick of the action. After that, they spend a solid ten minutes gloating over Tyler and all of his achievements and cases he’s won since taking over at the firm. I want to gag. Tom and Daddy then volley back and forth about whose golf swing is better between the two of them while my mother and Amy gossip about Cathey’s new nose. All in all, everything is mind-numbingly boring—just the way I like it. No boat rocking tonight, and Jake and I get to sit quietly and observe.
It’s when we sit down to dinner that I realize we have exactly enough place settings for everyone. That’s odd. I never told Mama that Jake was coming with me. I look up and notice that Tyler is staring at me from across the table. Staring like a serial killer finalizing his plans. He raises his glass to his mouth, smirking at me and never breaking eye contact. My heart rate picks up speed, and I can feel that he has something up his sleeve. Something that I’m not prepared for, but he is. Something everyone at this table is prepared for, because there is an extra place setting here. Oh, crap. This is the trap. They knew I’d bring Jake. Planned on it.
Suddenly, Tyler’s gaze cuts to Jake, and he sets down his glass. “You own your own architectural firm, do you not?” Now, how did he know that? I know that I didn’t tell anyone in my family, so how in the world would Tyler know that? Shoot. My parents must have had Jake investigated.
I look around the table and notice how it looks like everyone is running their lines in their head, waiting for their cues again.
“I do, yes,” Jake says with a kind smile, completely oblivious to the knife they are about to launch to his chest.
“Ah, yes,” my daddy says from the far end of the table. “Evelyn told us all about it. She went on and on about how proud she is of you for owning such a successful company.” I did not! I look at Jake and hope he will feel my thoughts meld with his. This is a trap!! Something is afoot! “I’ve got to say, I’m impressed by you, Jake. To own Goddard Smith is something to be proud of.”
WHAT?!
Jake’s brows twitch together, and his smile dims. “Oh…uh—I don’t own Goddard Smith, sir. My company is Broaden Homes.”
My father looks at me with a put-on frown that could win him an Oscar. “Why did you tell me he owned Goddard Smith, then?” Oh, he’s good. They’re all good. Sitting here, acting like this wasn’t a battle strategy to put a wedge between Jake and me while also making him feel belittled.
My eyes widen. “I didn’t!” I flash my eyes to Jake next. “I really didn’t. I never told him you owned that company. In fact, I haven’t told them about you at all!” Oh. But that just made things worse, didn’t it?