“Hush. I'm doing it anyway.”
Twenty minutes later, we're saying goodbyes. Marie makes Evan promise to come back next weekend for the final performances. My parents insist he take the bread. Emma hugs me and whispers, “He's good. Really good.”
Tom claps Evan on the shoulder and says, “Drive safe.”
Then we're out in the chilly December air, walking to Evan's car.
“I'm sorry about the billionaire thing,” I say. “Marie didn't mean?—”
“It's fine.”
“It's not fine. That was awkward.”
“Holly.” He stops walking and we turn to face each other. “Your family had a right to know. I should have told them sooner.”
“You don't owe them anything.”
“I do if I'm going to keep showing up to family dinners,” he says. “Which I want to do. If that's okay.”
“It's okay.”
He reaches out, brushes something from my shoulder that may not have been there.
“We should go,” he says. “It's a long drive back to the city.”
My phone buzzes. Then buzzes again. I glance at the screen: messages from Emma.
Emma
That went well
Except for the part where we found out your fake boyfriend is a BILLIONAIRE
I look up. Evan's watching me.
“You’re right, let’s go.”
* * *
EVAN
“You know you don't really have to come back next weekend, despite everyone asking,” Holly says about ten minutes into the drive. “You've fulfilled your phase-one obligation.”
“I know.”
“So you're coming back because ... ?”
“Because I said I would.” I glance at her. “Also, I promised Marie I'd teach her more tap.”
“You're teaching my niece to tap dance.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No. It's unexpected.”
“Good. I'm tired of being expected.”
I'm gripping the steering wheel harder than necessary. I see her glance at my hands.
