“They won’t,” he says. “Why would they?” His tone is maddeningly even. “And even if they do, that’s the point.”
I blink. “The point?”
“Practice,” he says simply. “You need it. My friends will spot a phony a mile off. This way you can rehearse with low stakes.”
“Low stakes?” I squeak. “Lunch with your parents is not low stakes.”
“Yes, it is.” He grins, tilting his head, completely at ease while my insides dissolve into panic soup. “Think of it as a dress rehearsal for the wedding. If they suss out it’s fake, we’ll come clean, and we’ll all just laugh about it, but you’ll know where you went wrong.”
My jaw drops. My brain shorts out. I find it hard to believe they’ll find it funny. Rhett just shrugs as he leans casually against the railing with the skyline glinting behind him, as if he hasn’t just casually detonated my entire morning.
And that’s where my sightseeing morning ends, with Rhett tossing out a nuclear bomb disguised as an offhand comment.
Chapter Twenty-One
Rhett
The door jingles when we step into the restaurant, and immediately a wave of warmth and tasty smells hits me. It’s the kind of place that makes you feel at home instantly. The walls are lined with wood paneling, and there are little potted herbs on the windowsills. Candles in glass jars and handwritten menus on blackboards complete the cozy look.
When Pippa and I arrive, my parents are already seated at a corner table, tucked out of the way of the main room. My mother is dressed in a pastel cashmere sweater, but it looks like she has not been able to persuade my father to dress up. He looks like an absent-minded professor in his old tweed jacket. They both look up and smile broadly the second they see me, and it warms my heart to see how genuinely happy they look.
“Rhett, it’s so good to see you,” Mom says, standing up to give me a hug. And then my dad reaches up and ruffles my hair. Yes, fucking ruffles it like I’m five years old, before sitting back down, a grin plastered across his face. Thanks, Dad. I glance at Pippa, and she can barely keep her lips straight.
“Mom, Dad, this is Pippa,” I introduce. “Pippa, this is my mom, Lois, and my dad, Wayne.”
Pippa lifts her hand slightly in greeting and smiles at them, a warm, disarming smile that somehow seems to make both my parents quite besotted with her. “Hello. So lovely to meet you both.”
I turn and pull out a chair for Pippa. She smiles up at me and slips into her seat, and I slide into the remaining one.
“Rhett has told me a lot about you,” Pippa says confidently.
There is lie number one, and she pulls it off effortlessly. She’s going to pass with flying colors if she keeps this up.
My dad raises an eyebrow and smirks. “All good things, I hope.”
Pippa laughs, and it’s the kind of laugh that is so full of genuine warmth and joy that it makes me stare at her. Wow! She’s a better actress than I gave her credit for.
“Mostly good. Some of it exaggerated,” she says, glancing at me with a mischievous tilt of her head.
My mom’s eyes light up immediately, and she leans forward eagerly. “Exaggerated, you say? That doesn’t sound like Rhett.”
Pippa opens her delectable mouth and weaves her magic. I actually see it working. She’s charming them, and they’re both falling hard. She’s quick on her feet, and somehow, she manages to enthrall them without trying too hard. Already, they’re leaning into her, asking questions about her work, how she knows me, the kinds of small, personal things that usually make first meetings awkward. Not this time.
“I work as a graphic designer,” Pippa says, settling snugly into her chair. “I’m freelance, so my schedule is flexible. I get to choose the clients I like, which is dangerous for my bank account, but very good for my sanity.”
My dad chuckles. “I like a woman who values sanity,” he says. He looks at me, his expression deliberately bland. “I, forinstance, haven’t had a day of sanity since … Oh, I don’t know … 1982.”
My mom shakes her head. “Wayne!” she scolds. “Don’t believe a word he says, Pippa. Rhett was a good baby. He frowned a lot for a baby, but he always slept right through the night.”
“A frowning baby, huh? Do you have any photos of him as a baby?” Pippa asks innocently.
I groan inwardly. She’s already read my mother perfectly. I glance at her, and she looks totally harmless, but I can see the mischievous sparkle in her eyes. We’ve been here for less than ten minutes, and she has already got my parents eating out of her hand, literally.
“Of course. Here, let me show you. He was an adorable little thing.” My mother takes her wallet out of her purse and shows Pippa, who makes the appropriate ohs and ahhs.
A waiter materializes at our table, and we order drinks first. I get a good bottle of wine and sparkling water for the table, and my mom asks for her favorite honey and lavender lemonade. My dad, predictably, goes straight for strong black coffee. The waiter withdraws.
“What made you decide on this place?” Pippa asks as she unwraps her napkin. “It’s really nice.”
