“How’s that even possible?” Grant wonders.
“It’s called dedication, Dad,” Beckett says.
“Called insanity,” Grant mutters.
“Probably has to forge some of the parts himself,” True muses as he passes some chicken to Greta, who’s begging silently from the rug.
“Like I said.” Grant waves a hand.
Wilder continues his story, and when the salad gets passed to me, I automatically hold it out to Ames.
“You aren’t having any?” he whispers, frowning. “When was the last time you ate a vegetable, Robert?”
“Uh… do french fries at lunch count?” I grin and smack his leg before he can work up any steam. “Kidding. I’ll have some, baby. You go first.”
Ames shoots me a look that says my diet’s not funny and puts an extra-large portion of salad on his plateandmine.
When I look up, True’s smothering a smile. I don’t really understand why, but I nod and smile back anyway.
The dinner is amazing. Vivian really outdid herself. I’m having fun, and Ames has relaxed to the point where he’s leaning against me, which is awesome. It’s just nice to reconnect with everyone this way and to be, like Ames said,normal.
Holden and Beckett clear the dishes while Vivian brings out some custard thing she calls Snow Pudding for dessert.
While she’s dishing it up and telling a long story about how she promised her grandmother she’d never reveal the secret ingredient, Ames turns to me and says in a low voice, “I think it’s going good, right? No one suspects anything?”
He’s got a smear of tomato sauce at the corner of his mouth that makes him look about thirteen again, and he’s so adorable I can’t help reaching out my thumb to wipe it off.
“Going good,” I agree, licking the sauce off my thumb.
Ames’s eyes heat, and he leans in closer before remembering he’s not supposed to.
When we turn back to the table, everyone is staring at us like someone’s hit Pause on a video. As soon as they see us looking, they resume their conversations like someone’s hit Play again.
For half a second, I manage to convince myself I imagined it. Then Holden pipes up, “Okay, so are we really not talking about Ames and—ow!” His whole body jerks upright, and he turns outraged eyes on Vivian. “Mom!”
“As I was saying,” Vivian says blithely, patting Holden’s arm. “The secret to Snow Pudding is the lemon zest.”
I clear my throat. “Fascinating, Vivian. Tell us more.”
Holden snickers.
The rest of the meal passes without incident. Even the dark looks Ames shoots Holden and the shit-eating grins Holden gives him back are almost routine. It’s not until we’ve said our goodbyes and we’re pulling out of the driveway that Ames unloads in a rush.
“Oh my god, that was awful! Wesuckat being normal.”
I laugh because he’s not wrong. “Ames, it’s okay?—”
“It’s not!Bloodhounds,remember? They definitely know something’s going on.”
Thinking back over all the little smiles and winks I received, I can’t argue. Still…
“Would it really be the worst thing if they knew?” I ask, focusing on the road.
“Yes. Because this is temporary, we said!”
“No,yousaid. And I agreed because you seem to need that,” I correct calmly. “But whether they noticed or didn’t, it doesn’t change a damn thing for me. I want you, Ames. Not just for?—”
“Can we please just go home?” he interrupts. “I’m tired.”
