“Good?” I ask.
She blinks up at me. “Yeah, you?”
“Yeah.” I pat the small of her back once and turn with her toward the booth. I get in first so she doesn’t have to slide and has an easier means of escape, and when she sits beside me, our thighs press against each other.
Neither one of us makes an effort to separate.
“Rowan, how’s your father?” Natalia’sdadasks. “I haven’t seen Mitchell in…”
“Four years,” Natalia mutters.
“He’s well,” I say. “He’s in Pennsylvania with Andrew. They wanted to move after my mother passed and Andrew applied to Penn.”
“Good for him,” Richard says with a soft smile. “What’s he studying?”
“Computer science and mathematics,” I tell him proudly. “Double major.”
“Impressive,” Peter scoffs, lifting the menu from the table.
Natalia shifts beside me like her skin is an itchy article of clothing she wants to rip off her body. Under the table, I put my hand firmly on her knee and squeeze. “You okay?” I whisper in her ear.
“Yeah,” she rasps.
“Please, tell me everything,” Peter says. He’s always loved gossip; I remember his chats with my mother.Sometimes I’d hide and eavesdrop, snickering in the background. “When did you two finally realize you wanted to be together? Because, honestly, we’ve been waiting for this to happen.”
I huff a laugh. “I always knew,” I say. “But I finally asked her out about…what was it, sweetheart?” I look into her gleaming eyes and her brows flinch with a silent question. “Five months ago?”
Her closed lips pull into a small smile and she nods. “I think so.”
“Five months?” Richard asks. “And you haven’t told us?”
“Richard, please,” Peter hisses with a flick of his hand. “Let them finish.”
Richard rolls his eyes and motions for us to continue.
“I asked her to be my girlfriend when she was teaching me how to make my favorite cupcakes,” I lie, even though that’s exactly how I might have done it.
“That’s sweet, Rowan,” Richard says. “I’m happy you’re happy, Natty.”
“Thank you, Dad,” Natalia croaks shakily.
“Nat?” I say in her ear. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, I’m fine,” she grumbles, her fingers trembling on her lap.
“You’re a bad liar.”
“Natalia, sweetie, what’s wrong?” Peter asks.
“Hmm?” She blinks like she’s coming back to herself. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Richard asks her. “Are you still?—”
“Rowan, maybe we should grab that bottle of wine we picked out for my dads,” Natalia says, clamping her hand down on my thigh like a cry for help. But that fake smile on herface scares me because of how real it appears. It’s a cry for help all on its own.
“Of course, sweetheart,” I acquiesce and kiss her temple. I flash her dads a smile before she stands so I can slip out of the booth. “I’ll be right back.”
I answer her desperate plea for an escape and change of conversation. Whatever her fathers were about to ask was enough for her to want to pounce. I think, after the amount of uncomfortable shifting she’s done beside me in the booth, I wouldn’t be surprised if I returned to find her gone.
