Page 53 of Pretend You're Mine
Xander wouldn’t do that to me, would he? The way his mouth had curled in disgust when he told me about his father’s philandering, told me that he abhorred the idea of cheating. But what if the temptation was too much one day? I couldn’t go through that again.
Luckily, before I could waste any more time in the never-ending game of ‘will he or won’t he’, my phone rang.
“I’m calling to invite you to Mom and Dad’s in…. now!” Teren said.
“What are you talking about?” I said.
“Come over and see,” he said.
Before I could say anything else, he hung up. I frowned at the phone, resisting the urge to chuck it on the seat next to me.
I wondered what my baby brother had up his sleeve. I wanted to know, before I walked into a potentially uncomfortable situation at my parents’ house.
Calling Teren back went straight to his voicemail.
“This is Teren. If you know me, then you’ll know I almost never check my messages. So, whoever this is, your best bet is to call again,” his voicemail’s cheery voice informed me.
“I know you won’t check your messages,” I muttered to myself. “But would telling me what the hell’s going on kill you?”
Guess I was going to just have to find out myself.
Granted, if he’d invited me to Mom and Dad’s, that must’ve meant that they forgave me, right?
I would find out soon enough.
When I got there, my parents were waiting at the door and greeted me with hugs.
“It’s so good to see you,” they said.
“It’s good to see you too,” I said in return.
I stood there, blinking stupidly at them. This felt like some kind of B-list movie, where the director had suddenly ripped our scripts to pieces and told us to improvise. How was I supposed to improvise when I didn’t know why my parents had finally agreed to meet me, after so many unanswered calls and texts?
I could only make it halfway through brunch – a delicious apple French toast concoction.
“So what made you guys change your mind?” I finally asked them.
I glanced at Teren, who shook his head. “Guess again,” he said.
“I don’t know, the Grace of God?”
“Watch your language, young lady,” Dad said sharply.
“Sorry,” I said. “Although if you would just tell me then I wouldn’t have to guess.”
“He made us promise not to tell,” Mom said. Reaching over the table she sifted her fingers through mine. “Just know, that we know that you didn’t mean for any of this to happen – and that you’re doing your best.”
I squinted at her. I was beyond grateful that my parents were being so gracious and forgiving, but I was confused as hell. Mom had said, ‘he made us promise not to tell’. Who the hell was ‘he’?
All through brunch, imploring them for answers did nothing. Finally, it was time to go to the party and I only had an hour to get ready.
I had just stepped through my door, when my phone went off. You ready? Xander’s text said. I’ll be over in 30.
I reread the text with a small shrug. Maybe he wasn’t the cause of my parents coming around. Maybe, they’d just talked to Reverend Ron or something and he had said something about the merits of forgiveness and releasing your soul from resentment and blah blah blah. Whatever it was, I was just happy to be in my parents’ good graces again.
In my room, I searched my closet for every and anything that could be suitable for this Christmas party tonight. But every dress I pulled out I ended up flinging to the floor since there was something wrong with it. My perfect green a-line dress had a coffee stain that I couldn’t get out of the hem. My blue tight one gave me a tummy ache as soon as I put it on. My red satin one was too froufrou.
When my phone went off again, Xander having arrived presumably, I glared dismally at my still half-naked self. Behind me, my clothes were everywhere. It looked like my closet had turned into a volcano and spewed clothes everywhere.
I squared my shoulders. No more time wasting, I’d have to decide. About all of this.
31
Xander
Finally having figured out what I wanted to say about Naomi at the Christmas party later that day, I was drilling my fingers on the car dash as I waited for her to come down. I’d already drafted part of it yesterday, when I went to see my family on my own time and told them what I’d been meaning to.
The “you look stunning” I’d planned to say came out as a garbled sort of cough as soon as I saw her.
“You okay?” Naomi asked.
“Fine, fine,” I managed to say.
Because she didn’t just look stunning. She looked in-fucking-credible. She had on a dress that was a white wonder, made of some super soft fabric I wasn’t sure the name of. It had a high neckline that set off her long neck perfectly, and hugged the curve of her hip perfectly, before floating out around her and stopping just above her knee.
