“Yeah,” I said faintly, glad to have dodged that wedding-day bullet. “Epic.” I gulped down a glass of champagne.
My phone went off. My mother glared over at me.
Beau:I need you to come help with dinner!
Todd:Mark’s going to be here any moment.
Crap.
“Sorry, Liz, have to run!” I said, hugging my friend.
“Have a hot date?” she asked with a snicker.
“Er, pleading the fifth.”
I grabbed a snack for the road then called an Uber. I was too broke to move out of my parents’ place, probably because I spent all my money on alcohol, Uber rides, and takeout. But seriously, how else was I going to cope? My parents had walked in on me and Mark having sex and invited the guy for dinner, and now I had to sit there and think about how Beau might not even be my real dad, all while begging the universe that my dads would act only slightly eccentric and not full-blown insane and scare Mark away.
As much as I did not want to involve my sister, I did want to settle this paternity issue. I sent her a text message as I hastily made my way home with the information I had learned from our mom.
I was slightly—well, okay,way—tipsy when I arrived back home.
“I wish I had just stayed in the salon,” I said when I saw the scene that greeted me in the kitchen.
Todd was furiously chopping up brussels sprouts. Beau was drying the duck breast with a hair dryer. The Roombas were going crazy vacuuming the floors.Bossa novamusic blared out of the speakers.
“Why are you making this much food?” I cried, taking in the mound of apple-and-fennel salad.
“Mark is a big guy. I’m sure he likes to eat,” Beau insisted.
“I hope you bought wine,” I said petulantly.
“Of course we did,” Todd said, holding out a bottle. “We bought some at a garage sale.”
“A garage sale?” I yelled.
“Don’t worry,” Beau said, kissing my cheek. “I know you like this guy. We’re here to impress. Also, love your hair, by the way!”
“Crap, I can’t let Mark see me like this,” I said.
Ding dong!
“Why is he here now?” I said in a panic. “I thought dinner was at seven, but it’s five thirty!”
“Mark had to come for appetizer hour,” Todd said. “I found that new bar cart at the garage sale. I’m making my special Negronis. Sit down.”
“Wait! I have the perfect thing for you,” Beau told me, wiping his hands as he ran into his bedroom. I wrapped the afghan from the couch around my head and dejectedly went to the door.
“Welcome,” I said to Mark.
He smiled and leaned in and kissed me. “I think I like this apartment better when it housed just you and your panties,” he whispered.
“I hope you brought your other appetite,” I hissed back, “because my parents are making enough food to feed an army.”
Mark tugged at the blanket on my head. I clenched at it to keep it from moving.
“It’s a workplace hazard. I had a horrible accident.”
“Oh, Brea! Our daughter is such a little comedienne!” Beau sang, gliding back into the living room, his brocade robe billowing behind him. In front of him, like the British crown jewels, he carried a hat. Not just any hat; this hat was a work of art—or of nightmares, depending on what side of the spectrum you landed on. It was a purple sequined fascinator with a taxidermied ferret perched on it.
