“You don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to,” I said.
“I’ve come this far." He flashed an easy smile as he pocketed his phone and keys. His confidence about this whole thing seemed to give my own a little boost, eventually bringing me to join him on the sidewalk.
“What should we tell people if they ask about us?” I asked as we started on a slow walk to the front porch.
Dean slipped his hands into his back pockets in thought. The movement caused a tendon in his forearm to tick. “We’ve been on six dates in the past two weeks. But we’re keeping it casual for now.”
“You answered that faster than I expected.”
“I’m good at coming up with cover stories. It’s part of the job,” he shrugged, half smiling.
“No, that’s good.” I looked up at the two-story house as we got closer, squeezing the tip of my finger between my thumb and forefinger as I did. “And how do people act after going on six dates with each other?”
“You’ve never been on more than six dates with someone?”
“Things never seemed to work out well for it to get that far...”
He raised a brow.
“It’s not for anything weird.” I breathed in deeply and shrugged. “They always wanted too much too soon, and I preferred to build an emotional connection first.”
I don’t know why I revealed all that about myself. He didn’t need to know that I wasn’t overly confident with intimacy or opening up to people.
“Huh,” he considered but moved on. “How many dates have you been on with what’s his name?”
I smiled a little at his nonexistent attempt to learn Oliver's name as we climbed the porch steps. “Just three.”
“Have you kissed him yet?”
I paused at the top of the stairs and Dean stepped up beside me. As he casually surveyed the front porch, I tried to figure out where he was taking the conversation. When his eyes came back to me, he half smiled at the unsure look on my face.
“Don't worry. It’s just to figure out where we stand with our own dates, so we don’t get the stories crossed,” he said nonchalantly. "We don't have to...kiss."
“Oh, right," I smiled a little nervously, palming the back of my neck. "Well, Oliver attempted to, but—”
“Attempted?”
“He got the signals crossed,” I added quickly. The last thing I needed was Dean punching Oliver in the face in front of my entire family.
He dragged his attention back to the house, jaw clenched. “Uh-huh...”
“How should we act in this fake relationship?” I curled my hand around the strap of my shoulder bag again and squeezed it lightly until his eyes found mine again.
He relaxed ever so slightly. “We haven’t kissed yet but…holding hands isn’t off the table?”
Trying not to let the thought of holding his hand get the better of my nerves, I nodded once. “That’s fine with me.”
Taking a deep breath, I crossed to the white front door but all I could do was stare at the bronze door knocker. Never in my wildest dreams did I picture introducing a guy to my parents like this, especially one they didn’t already have extensive knowledge of. Dean was a far cry from the little piece of my world he was about to walk into, and I couldn’t help but feel terrified of what my family might do.
“You want me to knock?” Dean said, a slight frown on his face as he joined me. He removed his sunglasses and slipped them through a loop on his jeans. His gaze dropped to me, those eyes of silvery blue subtly scanning my face.
“No. I can do it.” My huffed laugh was strained but I reached abruptly for the knocker and tapped it a couple of times.
Here goes…everything.
My heart was pounding so fast, its pulse thrumming in my ears, I wouldn’t be surprised if Dean could hear it too. Stealing a glance in his direction, I found him completely calm. As if I hadn’t just warned he was about to walk into a gathering that consisted of some of Brooklyn’s best lawyers and detectives.
I should’ve been more detailed about what exactly he should expect.
