“Nothing, Grandma,” Miles says with a fake, innocent smile.
“Do you want us to help with dinner? You really didn’t have to do this. I feel bad that the first time you come to visit us, you’re the one doing the cooking.”
Because cooking would probably be a better choice than noticing how perfectly I fit in my roommate’s arms.
“I’m going to finish searing this cod, and the salad is already made. Miles, dear, would you like a glass of wine?”
I notice she didn’t even bother to ask me that question earlier. Maybe I look like a wino. Or maybe she’s hoping to get me drunk. It could be either one at this point.
“Sure, Grandma. I’ll get it.”
His arm leaves my shoulders, and it feels drafty in here now. I can’t stop the shiver as I watch him move into the kitchen. When I finally tear my eyes away, I catch Goldie watching me with a small smile on her face. I blush and take a big drink of my wine.
“I like her, Miles. Everyone is so excited to meet her on the camping trip.”
I promptly choke on the wine. Miles hurries to pound on my back.
“Ouch!” I yelp when he smacks me with the flat of his hand—he didn’t hit hard; it was just the perfect angle to sting my skin.
“Sorry,” he mutters as he starts rubbing small circles on my back.
“Meet everyone camping?” I manage to ask as I sit down on the bar stool.
“Oh, yes, everyone will be there this year. Miles did tell you, right?”
I narrow my eyes at Miles, who grimaces. “I must have completely forgotten about it,” I say.
“It’s always a good time. It’s a family tradition. But of course, we’ll also have to have a belated wedding reception. I know the two of you wanted a small wedding, but you have to let me have some sort of celebration. Especially since I like you. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t bother. I’d just wait for the divorce papers.”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing hysterically. The ridiculousness of this situation and the guilt at deceiving this woman are warring with each other for top spot in my mind. Even Miles flinches at what she said.
“Grandma, we don’t say the D-word here,” he says in a somber tone as he finally moves his hand from my back.
It’s cold, and now I have to figure out what I’m supposed to do with myself. Reach for his hand? Or act like we’re togetherenough that we don’t have to be touching all the time? There are a lot of ways to play this, and I regret not talking with him more about it when we were in the bathroom.
“Dinner is served,” Goldie says as she slides the fish onto a large plate.
Miles reaches for me again, and I leap out of the chair and walk around the island.
“I’ll get the plates,” I say.
“Miles, get some wine glasses. I brought a bottle to share,” Goldie says.
I carry the plates to the table, and Miles brings the silverware and some salad dressing.
“You’d better pour Lucy an extra big cup. She’s had a long, busy week and needs to unwind,” Miles teases.
I jab his side when Goldie isn’t looking. He’s in big trouble for not mentioning an annual camping trip.
I’ve never been camping in my entire life. And now we’re going to have to share a tent.
Things can’t possibly get more awkward.
Miles catches my eye and flashes a guilty smile. I stick my tongue out in response.
TWENTY-TWO
Miles
