Page 11 of The Art of Almost Losing It
“Oh?” My parents look a little alarmed.
“Is she pretty? Is she a model?” Max demands.
“He’s a billionaire—of course she’s pretty.” Sean pokes him.
“She’s probably, like, eighteen too.”
“That’s enough, boys,” Frank barks.
They gulp and sit up straight.
My teeth grind.
“Show us a photo,” Bridget demands, making grabbing motions.
“This is Ryan’s day,” I remind them. “Tell me about your wedding plans.”
“You’re not getting out of this that easy, bro.” Ryan smiles at me.
“Bet he’s lying,” Hannah says into her wine glass.
“Bet,” the teens chorus, on their phones.
“No phones at the table, boys.” Frank glares.
“I’m not lying.” It comes out too forceful.
My stepdad seems nervous.
I tone it down.
“Annoying little shits, aren’t they?” Ryan says, half joking.
“Yeah. Annoying.”
“What’s she like? What’s her name?” My stepdad is in his FBI-interrogator mode.
“Why—so you can stalk her?” Mom jokes.
“Is she eighteen?” he demands.
“No. She’s my age.” I keep my voice steady. “She’s normal. Doesn’t care about fashion and clothes and stupid stuff like that. She’s not a skinny model type.”
“Real boobs.” My half sister nods. “I approve.”
My stepdad knows I’m lying.
“Bring her to brunch tomorrow,” Ryan offers. “We’d love to meet her!”
“Excuse me?”
“We’re hosting a brunch tomorrow at a fancy restaurant. Claire’s parents are coming into town, and we want to surprise them with the news—we want all the families to meet.”
“I don’t know if she will be free.”
“Who’s not free for brunch?” Ryan counters.
“And we’re paying—you don’t have to,” Claire tells me.
