“Are you worried you can’t protect me anymore?”
“No, I can protect you.” He stared into my eyes. “You’re safe, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, but I already knew that.
My parents lived in a small suburb of Oakland, in the same house I was born in. It was a modest tract home, but it was warm and always smelled like homemade food. My mother swung the door open before I could ring the doorbell.
“Hello,” she said with a smile. Her attention was immediately drawn to Lucian as he held out his hand.
“Hello, Ms. Casey, it’s nice to meet you,” Lucian said.
“Please call me Jane.” She appraised him and seemed taken aback.
“Okay, Jane,” he said as they continued shaking hands for what seemed like too long.
She turned on her heel and walked toward the hallway. “Come on in and meet Evey’s dad.”
In the hallway, I whispered, “Did you do something to her?”
“No, I swear.”
“What was her deal? She acted odd.”
He shrugged. “I have no idea why.”
My father and Lucian had a similar introduction, then my mother offered Lucian a drink. He declined, and I was surprised.
“Is it all right if I have a glass of wine?” I asked him.
“Of course,” he said, as if it were a silly question.
My mother pulled me into the small guest bathroom and shut the door.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She was wearing a funny yellow apron that saidSauce Bosson it. I laughed at it, but she wasn’t amused. My mother and I looked exactly alike in facial structure and body, but she had blond hair and blue eyes and I had dark hair and dark eyes like my father. Her eyebrows arched.
“Say something, Mother.”
“What does he do for a living? He’s older than you, right? Where did you meet him?”
“Geez, is this the Spanish inquisition? You don’t like him?”
“Evey, he’s gorgeous—I mean, exotically handsome, but I don’t know him and this just seems a bit sudden. I’m just curious about him. Curious why you’ve never mentioned him, and you’re already bringing him home to meet the parents.”
“God, he really is good-looking, isn’t he?” I said dreamily.
“Evelyn, focus.”
“I’ve known him for a while. He’s a bit older than me.” What an understatement that was. “I met him through mutual friends. He’s in securities.”
“Securities?” My mom looked skeptical.
“Some kind of business with brokerage firms… something like that.”
“So he works in the city? In an office?”
I hesitated. “Yes?”
