“Yes, I do,” Oliver said, sitting straighter. Prouder. Turns out he knew where the conversation was going too. He was suddenly smug about the question and began rattling off his other achievements, all while sending not-so-subtle looks at Dean to make sure he was listening. The latter, having already finished his lunch, was sitting back in his seat, unbothered by Oliver as he looked up and studied the house.
“You’ve got a bright future ahead of you. Very impressive,” Dad said, continuing his onslaught on his food as he shoved a bite into his mouth, chewing quickly before his eyes darted to Dean. Mom did the same. The fondness both parents had for Oliver quickly dropped from their faces as Dad straightened. “And what about you?”
Dean dragged his attention to my father, face neutral as he raised a brow quizzically. “What about me?”
Dad lowered his knife and fork, resting his forearms on the edge of the table as his eyes narrowed. “What do you do for a living?”
“I work in a garage.” Dean hadn’t bothered sitting forward.
Oliver scoffed and my eyes narrowed on him as I said, “He fixed your car yesterday—”
“Lily,” Mom hissed in warning.
Dad cleared his throat. “Have you always lived in Brooklyn, Dean?”
“For most of my life, yeah.” His voice garnered the attention of other family and friends a few seats down. “I was born in Palermo, Sicily, but moved to Bensonhurst when I was ten.”
“Wait, so, you’d be fluent, right?” Jane piped up, cutting through the tension from where she sat across from Dean. “Can you help me with my continued Italian classes next semester?”
He half smiled, folding his arms loosely across his chest with a nod. “Che posso fare.”
She grinned happily. “Grazie.”
This caused my mother to straighten, Oliver to scowl into his drink, and my stomach to flutter. I forgot how good his accent sounded.
“That’s your convertible outside, correct?” Dad picked up his knife and fork again. “It’s in very good condition. What make and model is it?”
“Cadillac Fleetwood Eldorado, 1970.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“Family friend.”
Dad faked a smile. “That was generous of them.”
“I drive an Audi,” Oliver butt in, causing Jane to suck in her lips to stop from laughing out loud. It was such a random comment, that no one responded.
“Ever been arrested, Dean?”
My head snapped to my father; eyes wide. “Dad.”
“What? We have a right to know who our daughter is dating,” he said, gesturing between himself and Mom. “And that includes criminal history.”
“Did you ask Oliver for his?” I gestured to the boy across from me, whose eyes narrowed with frustration.
“Lily,” Mom whispered sharply.
I pressed my lips together.
“I agree with your father,” Dean said too casually. “And, yeah, I’ve been arrested.”
The table of law enforcement went dead quiet, apart from the clinking of cutlery as they dropped to the table when half of the guests bristled. I didn’t think my eyes could get any wider.
What is he thinking?
“This is going to be good,” Jane muttered with a smile.
The grip Dad had on his cutlery whitened his knuckles as he pinned Dean with a glare. “And would you like to share with the table what exactly you were arrested for?”
