My eyes meet Lincoln’s. His hand covers mine again. The way his thumb is gently skimming back and forth over my palm is proving to be a beautiful distraction. For some freaking reason, I find myself blushing, even though I know that his affection is fake.
He’s a really good actor. Way better than I am.
But as I stare into those endless blue eyes of his, I find myself thinking,This might actually work. We might actually pull this off.
It’s not until after lunch arrives that I notice a shift in my mom. She falls quiet. My gut tightens at the expression on her face.
I know that expression. Her wheels are starting to turn, and questions are forming in her head.
Oh God. No questions, please. Please, no questions, I silently beg, stuffing my mouth with lobster lasagna and hoping to avoid her curious stare.
“You know,” Mom says, unfolding her napkin across her lap. “I didn’t even realize you two were dating. How long have you been together?”
Lincoln’s mom nods along. “Me neither, you sneaky foxes! Tell us how you started dating.”
“Oh. That’s a funny story, actually,” Lincoln starts, avoiding eye contact as he refills everyone’s water glasses.
“Well, it’s not all that funny really,” I interject. “We basically just reconnected through Alba and Easton.” I smirk. “Lincoln didn’t even like me when we first saw each other last summer.”
I think back to that day we first ran into each other. He and his brothers were at The Whiskey Barrel, having a drink. He gave me the brushoff at the bar. It was like the moment he looked at me, he decided I wasn’t good enough. Even though I’m wearinghis cheap, tacky engagement ring now, knowing that Lincoln has had a bad impression of me right from the get-go still stings.
He scoffs. “Not true. You were the one who didn’t like me.”
I feel our mother’s eyes bouncing off of us as we go back and forth. Even though I’d really,reallylike to keep going so I can win this ridiculous argument with Lincoln, I decide to forfeit.
“Nah, I was just playing hard to get.” I bat my lashes again, shamelessly lying my ass off.
“Okay then,” my mom says. “Well, what’s your favorite thing about each other? Was it his dreamy blue eyes you fell for?” She smiles at me.
Lincoln chuckles at the praise, and I notice the way his cheeks pinken slightly.
I stall, searching my brain for a compliment that won’t go straight to his arrogant head. “It was all those button-down shirts,” I say finally.
“His shirts?” Monica echoes, sounding confused.
“Uh, yes. Great fashion sense. And…and, I love his…commitment to organization,” I add, hoping no one catches the sarcasm. “This guy could organizehis way out of a speeding ticket, if he had to.”
My mom nods, still looking uncertain. “Well, that’s…nice.”
Meanwhile, Monica chuckles. “My son certainly has a knack for being neat and organized. And what about you, Lincoln? What’s your favorite thing about your beautiful new fiancée?”
It’s his turn to start fumbling. “Well, I…uh…I truly admire Jules’s resourcefulness.”
My mother blinks. “Her resourcefulness?”
“Yeah. Let’s just say, your daughter is always full of clever ideas for getting herself out of sticky situations.”
“Um, anything else?” Monica prods, clearly growing skeptical herself.
Lincoln pauses for a moment. His intense gaze flits around my face like he’s looking for something profound to say. Then he inhales roughly from deep in his gut.
A look of resignation takes over his face as he speaks. “Well, Jules is absolutely gorgeous,” he says, as if it pains him to admit it. “And I’ve come to respect her confidence.”
My pulse flutters in my throat. Damn, as much as he seems to hate the words he’s saying, he nearly sounds genuine. Like he actually means it.
Meanwhile, I’m fighting back a cringe. I’d hardly say I’m confident. I just have a stubborn insistence when it comes to standing my ground, and I was pretty sure that Lincoln hated that about me.
Our moms ask us a couple more questions, and we fumble our way through them. Then we go back to picking at our dessert. The tension is so thick now that I know our mothers must be sensing it, too. We may have answered all their questions, but not without friction and inconsistencies.Lincoln and I are weird together, and awkward as hell.
