“You meanmine.”
There’s the garbled sound of a man’s voice in the background, muffled, like he’s talking into a pillow.
“Is he still there?” Mandy hisses.
“I can’t just kick him out—that’s rude. I want to make him breakfast. Don’t you have any pancake mix?”
“I make my pancakes from scratch, so no.”
“Fine,” her sister huffs. “I’ll make it myself.”
“Don’t touch my stand mixer—you’re just going to break it.” She pauses. “Hello? Lauren. My stupid sister. I can’t believe this, after everything I’ve done for her. This is a new low.” Mandy takes an angry bite of her pasta.
“Little siblings, right?” I raise an eyebrow. “You’ll give ’em a kidney but kill them if they touch your shit.”
“This isn’t just touching my shit. She had sex in my bed. Argh!” She tangles her hands in her hair. “Seriously, my sister is the worst.”
“My brothers could give her a run for her money, I bet.”
“Are all of your brothers gainfully employed?”
I hesitate. “Yes.”
“The last time my sister had a job was in high school, when she slept with the manager of the taco place where she worked. Giving her a piece of my mind is the only reason I’m going to dinner today, by the way—otherwise, I’d leave you to my grandmother’s mercy.”
“I don’t mind basking in the love of my adoring fans.”
I have showered,dressed in a freshly pressed suit, and selected a bottle of wine to bring to Mandy’s mom’s dinner that afternoon. Pepper chases a wine cork around the wine-cellar floor.
“Oh no. No, no, no.” Mandy looks into the wine cellar.
“What?” I look up at her. “You don’t think your family will like the Domaine des Étoile? It’s a good year.”
“Do not waste that bottle. We’ll stop at Walmart on the way in and pick up a box of wine.”
“We’re not bringing your parents boxed wine.” I slip the bottle into the wine gift bag with my monogram on it.
“This is wasted on them.” She crosses her arms.
“Fine.” I pull the bottle back out. “I’ll bring a cheap wine.”
“How cheap?” Mandy rushes over to the rack of slightly less exclusive reds. “I know you—you have expensive taste. My parents do not. My grandmothercertainlydoes not.”
“I have a reputation to uphold.” I slide another bottle into the bag.
She huffs. “You don’t have to go. In fact, I wish you wouldn’t.” She trails her fingers along the row of buttons on my shirt. “You know, maybe you and I could open that wine and really appreciate it.”
I lean down to kiss her mouth. “Tempting, but I want to see how your dad’s lawn is doing.”
“Oh my gosh, I’m dating a guy just like my father. I mean… uh…” She looks up at me with apprehension.
I save her. “I don’t know if locking someone up in your penthouse counts as a date.”
“It does when you’re thirty-four and perpetually single.”
Dating.Mandy thinks we’re dating.
Are we dating?
