Caelyx blinked up at me for a moment, before his sculpted mouth stretched into a perfectly handsome, pearly smile.
“You are so good at that,” he said.
“Good at what?” I asked, confused.
“Making me really, really fucking happy.”
“I…” He’d made me blush more today than most other days, for whatever reason. “You’re really sappy today, you know that?”
He stared at me, his eyebrow perked up along with the corner of his mouth in one of those smug grins. He knew exactly how I was feeling, and how his stupidly sweet remarks were twisting up my insides and making my heart pound in my chest.
“Don’t worry, BB,” he started, using his voice for the imaginary version of me. “As soon as we’re done with him, I’ll take you home and reward you for being such a good boy.”
“Is that really what you want to be thinking about during dinner?” I asked flatly, his innocently fluttering lashes giving me his answer without him needing to say it.
“That sounds so good,” he murmured, ignoring me as always when he was doing this annoying shtick. Scooting to the edge of the bed, he pulled me to him so he could shove his face into my torso, nuzzling me. “Nothing motivates me like you do, Cupcake.”
Sighing, I carded my fingers through his hair and held him to me for a minute, soothing him and allowing him to wallow in pouty self pity.
I had a very strange evening ahead of me.
WHEN WE PULLEDup to the restaurant that Faulkner had indicated in his texts to Caelyx, thankfully a different restaurant than the one he’d taken me to before, I had to hand the keys over to a valet.
“Uh, is this alright?” I’d asked Caelyx when we’d pulled in and seen how limited space was and that valet parking was basically the only option.
“It’s fine,” he’d assured me. “They’ll just add it to my dad’s bill.”
It wasn’t just the fee. If I owned such a nice car, I wasn’t sure my heart could take the pain of handing it over to a completestranger. But I guess Caelyx was probably used to stuff like valet parking.
I’d expected the staff at the restaurant to side eye my jeans and faded jacket, but I imagined seeing me pull up in the driver’s seat of a gleaming Porsche probably counteracted whatever judgments they might have initially had.
The nerves in my stomach hit a peak, writhing like a pit of vipers as we were seated, with Faulkner already on the other side of the table. He was sitting up straight, with his fingers laced together on the table, like I’d seen him do before.
“Caelyx,” he greeted him calmly, with a slight nod of his head. The tone of his voice was deeper and more resonant than I remembered it. Was he different with me than he typically was with Caelyx?
“Dad.”
It was awkward, and I kind of wished I was anywhere else. But seeing Caelyx so stiff next to me, eyeing Faulkner so apprehensively, I couldn’t help but reach over and squeeze his thigh under the table.
“Faulkner Vane,” he said, finally directing his attention to me and reaching out to shake my hand. “And you’re… Aspen, right?” He asked. I had to give it to him, his expression suggested he’d never seen me before in his entire life.
“Yeah. Aspen Davis,” I answered, and he gave a slight nod.
“And the two of you are…” He trailed off, indicating for one of us to fill in the blanks.
I’m your future son-in-law, don’t you remember?
When I only cleared my throat, glancing at Caelyx for guidance on how to handle a question that I didn’t exactly know the answer to myself, he looked completely composed and not remotely confused.
“We’re together,” he said simply. “I told you that.”
“Well, together is a relative term,” Faulkner mused. “Are you… Dating? Exclusively?”
The words reminded me of the offer he’d made me when he’d first forced me into a meeting with him. A hot blush washed over my cheeks, and I hoped if Caelyx noticed he’d attribute it to my general feelings toward relationships and long term attachments.
“That’s right,” he confirmed, somewhat neutrally. Just like how Faulkner was different than how he’d been around me, Caelyx was, too. They were both… Stiffer. More cautious. It was kind of sad. But at least they were agreeing to talk, and maybe things could start improving.
When Faulkner invited me to tell him about myself, I suppressed a sigh and started talking, even though it felt totally performative. He remarked positively about the things I already knew he liked, like my scholarship and GPA, and then asked other questions like how we met, and how long we’d been seeing each other. All things he already knew, but seemed obvious to ask if you were meeting your kid’s partner for the first time.
