“Okay, one, Imogen and I aren’t interested in each other, so we’re not Romeo and Juliet. And two, like you could stop us from seeing each other. And three, I’m totally Juliet and Imogenis Romeo, so we”—he waved his hand back and forth between them—“would be the Capulets.”
Robbie nodded and leaned back against the counter, waiting on the microwave. “Right, right. Of course, you’re Juliet. What was I thinking. I can definitely see you pining from a balcony.”
Sawyer stuck his tongue out.
“If Imogen is Romeo, does that mean she’s a fuckboy?”
Sawyer dropped his head to the counter. “I hate you so much right now.”
“Love you too, kid.” Sawyer made another cat noise as the microwave beeped. Robbie pulled the plate from it and placed it next to his English homework. “‘Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon.’ Or your dinner, at least.”
“I regret everything,” Sawyer moaned, even as he lifted his head, pushed his homework aside, and grabbed a fork.
Chapter Three
Fork Found in Parking Lot
Finn hada standing dinner date at his dad’s every Thursday night, film schedule permitting. He entered the house to bright summer sunshine flooding the kitchen.
“Finn, sweetheart, is that you?” came Gail’s voice from the back patio doors.
“Yeah, Ma!” Gail was his stepmother in the technical sense, but she’d been with Finn’s dad for much of his adult life. “I brought cider!”
Gail appeared in the doorway. Her nose was peeling with sunburn, and her reddish-brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. “You’re just doing that to torment your father.” Shetsked, but then she pressed up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Finn’s first impression of her, all those years ago, was that she would’ve made a great pairs-skating partner, pocket-size as she was. “I approve.” She made grabby hands at the cider.
Finn’s dad—a gruff but kind man with a keen nose for bullshit—had retired from firefighting to open a microbrewery before microbreweries were cool. Now he had to deal with the agony of the attached gastropub being trendy among the hipster crowd, a fact which, unfortunately for Finn’s dad, was never going to stop being funny.
Funnier still, neither Gail nor Finn liked beer, so they had a running bit where Finn would “sneak” cider into the house.
He put five of the six-pack in the fridge and brandished the last. “Wanna split one?”
Gail gave him a look. “Split one? What are we, fifteen?”
Typical Gail. With a bump of her shoulder, Finn popped one open and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. “Competition season.” Alcohol was bad for muscle recovery and inflammation and interfered with the way his body processed carbohydrates, or something. He’d read a study.
“Really.” Her eyes gleamed. “So the rumors are true. They’re putting you back in the saddle?”
For fuck’s sake. “Do you have to make it sound like I was out to pasture?” He wasn’t even thirty-five.
“No. But it’s fun.” She elbowed him. With anyone else, it would’ve been a bump to the ribs; Gail managed the soft spot just above his hip. “So? Tell me about it. I thought you were happy doing the choreography thing.”
“Stef broke her collar bone. They needed someone to fill in.”
They clinked their glasses together and carried them out to the deck. “Okay,” Gail said as she threw herself onto a lounge chair, “but—and excuse me for pointing out the obvious—Stef is a woman.”
“Yup.” Finn put his feet up on the ottoman. Maybe he should convince Holly to let him put in a patio. This was nice. Mind you, their yard was the size of a postage stamp and offered the neighbours a scenic view of their weeds, but still. “And my partner is not.”
“Oooh.” She turned toward him in her chair, dimpling. Finn couldn’t remember his birth mother—she died when hewas a toddler—but Gail filled the role as happily as anyone could hope. “Thatisinteresting. Is he cute?”
“He’s Sawyer’s uncle,” Finn evaded.
“Oh, I know Robbie.” Then she paused and scrunched her whole face into a smile. “Wait. That means yes!”
He should’ve known better than to think he could put anything past her. “He seems nice,” he said instead. “Funny. He’s not being a dick about skating with another guy, which is the main thing.”
Miraculously, Gail let him off the hook. “Good. I think the change of pace will be good for you, sweetie. You should go show off a little. Let the world know what it’s missing out on.”
She’d been on this kick ever since he and Paris split. Never for long enough to make him feel like she was harping; more like every so often she tested the waters to find out if Finn was ready. Part of Finn thought she was just desperate to repay the favour, since Finn was the one who engineered her meeting his dad.
