Jerry? Jim? John?I tried to remember what he had said as I climbed into his car.
“This is going to be a great date,” he told me. “Oh, I put my phone in the glove compartment. Would you mind handing it to me?”
I opened it up then screamed when a stuffed snake sprung out.
Jim, or Jones or whatever he had he said his name was, roared with laughter.
I forced out a chuckle as he slapped his thigh.
“Sorry, I’m a bit of a jokester. It’s a big part of my personality,” he said jovially, “but you’re able to take a joke and laugh at yourself, so I think we’re going to be great together!”
“Er… yeah,” I said weakly.I’m going to kill Kate.
“So, what restaurant are we going to?” I asked, trying to make conversation.
“The best in town!” he said with a wink as he turned onto a residential street.
I frowned. “It’s not Girl Meets Fig, is it? Because I think they’re still shut down.”
“Nope,” he said, “it’s Casa Mami’s.” The car pulled up in front of a single-family bungalow.
No. He couldn’t…
The front door opened, and a plump, dark-haired woman stood in the doorway. “Johnny!” she exclaimed.
What the hell? Who brings someone on a first date to meet their parents?
“Look, Marco!” the older woman called into the house as Jake—Jasper?—grabbed my hand and dragged me up to the porch.
“The whole family is here,” my date said. “They’re so excited to meet you.”
A big Italian family greeted me when I walked into the small living room, every square inch of which was covered in chintzy knickknacks. Though the Svensson family was bigger than my date’s family by a long shot, it was still a blur as my date introduced me to cousins and aunts and siblings and nephews.
“I can’t believe he’s finally brought a girl home,” his mother said, enveloping me in a hug. “And such a nice girl too. I can tell you like to eat!” She slapped me on the hip.
See, I told myself as a plate of lasagna slid in front of me,this can’t be all that bad. It’s certainly not the worst date you’ve been on. It’s not as great as a date with Hunter, but hey, anything that includes lasagna can’t be all that bad, right?
But before I could take the bite of lasagna, my date announced, “Guess what, everyone. Meg is so great that you know what she insisted on doing when I told her I was bringing her here?” He grinned manically. “She said, ‘I want to sing for your family.’”
My fork clattered to the plate. “Sing?”
“Wonderful!” his mother boomed.
“Sing! Sing!” his family chanted, and my date hauled me to my feet.
“I don’t know how to sing,” I seethed at him.
He winked at me and mouthedprank.
I warbled out a horrific rendition of “Tomorrow” from theAnniemovie, the one that had started me down the dark path of wanting a billionaire to come and save me.
His family roared with laughter when it was over. My date wiped his eyes.
“See Meg? You and I are meant to be!”
Face burning, I stabbed at my lasagna, though my stomach was too clenched to enjoy it.
And I would rather be anywhere than here.
