Page 68 of The Dating Charade

Jett stood awkwardly. “Drew. Put that down, now!”

The cushion now easily reached the 80-degree mark.

Gritting his teeth, Jett gave in and waddled swiftly to the rescue. He ran into the living room, lunging for it as the cushion began to fall.

Drew looked at the halted cushion and then to Jett, his expression somewhere between seeing him as the man who had impeded him in his ultra-important project and the reality of what he really was: the huge, naked uncle on his knees who had fussed at him for something.

“You have to be careful, Drew. If this fell, who would you have hit?”

Drew watched the cushion silently.

“Who?” Jett pressed.

Drew’s voice was meek, confessing. “Timothy.”

“No, I’m—” he started to say, but then halted. Timothy was Jett’s name, but he’d only been known by the first part of his given name, Timothy Jett, in the earliest days of his childhood.

Jett’s head swiveled down to TJ, who blinked back at him with his innocent, oblivious eyes. TJ. TJ.

“Is this Timothy? Is this what your mother called him?” Jett pointed to TJ, and Drew nodded.

“Timothy Jett?” he pressed, but Drew just pointed back to him and replied.

“TJ. Timothy.”

Well, what’d’ya know.

“How do you like that, Timothy?” he said, standing, a bit of pride in his face as he smiled down at TJ, and TJ wriggled his pink, sockless toes in return. “Looks like you’re named after your dear old uncle.”

Maybe there was hope yet.

Whatever sweetness was held in that momentary bubble popped instantly, however, as for the second time in five minutes, a knob jiggled. This time the front door.

“Yeah, of course they’ll want some. Come on in.” Sunny’s voice came loud and clear through the door.

Jett swiftly grabbed the large cushion out of Drew’s hands and made for the bathroom. Before he could take even one long step, however, the door swung open.

Sunny put his hand on Sarah’s back and led her and her trayful of cake balls inside. Approximately three steps in, she jerked to a stop. Chocolate balls went tumbling.

It was college initiation all over again.

“We had a little issue.” Jett started to bend and reach for the sweatpants huddled around his ankles. The cushion slipped an inch, and he snapped it back up with both hands.

“I see.” Sarah’s cheeks began to turn the shade of her peppermint sprinkles.

Sunny wasn’t saying anything at all. In fact, he was hardly visible, hunched over behind her, both hands on his knees.

Then, deepening Jett’s frown, Sunny took a breath. And the laughter—howling, police-calling laughter—began.

Sarah whirled around. “I’ll just come back later.”

“Look at you!” Sunny arched his back, and down he went again, howling with both hands back on his knees.

“Yeah, brother, look at me. You were supposed to be watching the kids.”

“I got the mail!” Tears started forming in the corner of Sunny’s eyes, no sorrow in his voice whatsoever. He tried to point at the stack of junk mail on the side table, but his arm was so off with his laughing he pointed to the couch.

At Jett’s ankles came a sudden ringing from his pants pocket.