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By some Hanukkah magic, we managed to find street parking right outside Seth’s parents’ building on West End Avenue. I stared up at the building as Seth grabbed our rolling bags from the trunk. I’d always regarded these grand architectural marvels with envy compared to the boxy modern building I’d grown up in; all the cornices and carved stone flowers decorating the brick gave the building so much charm and old-world glamour. Someone had strung around the entrance lights that would probably twinkle white once it got dark out. People walking fluffy little dogs weaved around me; tall trees made the wide sidewalk feel homey, even though the branches were bare.

“Ready?” he asked.

I drew in a deep breath. “Ready.”

8

Hugging has never been my thing. Being tucked up right against somebody’s sweat and hair and odors, wrapped in arms so that you can’t get away, and wondering if they can smell or feel anything weird about you? No thank you.

But it wasn’t like I could sidestep the mother of my fake boyfriend, or ask her if she’d prefer a handshake (I would actually prefer to greet someone without having to touch their skin at all, but for whatever reason that doesn’t seem to be an option. Society, get on that). So when she, upon Seth and I walking into their airy, sunny apartment and him introducing me to her as his girlfriend, swooped in for a hug, I just gritted my teeth and let it happen.

It could have been worse, I supposed. She was soft and round and smelled like cinnamon, though that only made me more self-conscious that I probably smelled like stale car sweat and my road snack of turkey jerky.

After what felt like about three hours, she released me. I took an immediate step back and sucked in a breath of clean air. The apartment itself, or at least the small chunk of it I could see upon walking into the main living area, was really nice: built-in bookshelves filled with Reese’s Book Club picks and foil-bound editions of classic novels; cozy mismatched furniture in bright colors and plaids that should have clashed but somehow didn’t; pictures of Seth and his parents at all ages lining the mantel above a grand fireplace. I seized upon that and figured I’d start with a compliment, because who didn’t like that? “It’s so nice to meet you. You have a beautiful home.”

She clasped her hands before her. I’d expect a woman with an apartment like this to have polished, manicured nails, but hers were short and unadorned. “Thank you so much, Abby. It’s absolutely delightful to meet you, too.” She shot a chagrined look at Seth. “I only wish my son had told me you were coming. I would have been more prepared.”

“I’m very sorry,” I said, shooting my own annoyed look at Seth. This whole situation was weird enough; why did he have to make it weirder by springing me on his parents out of nowhere? “I didn’t realize he was serious when he told me I was going to be a surprise.”

“You should always take me seriously,” Seth said brightly. “Come on, both of you, it’s better this way. Less stress for all of us. Mom, you would’ve worked yourself into a frenzy trying to make sure everything was perfect. Now we can all relax.”

I was truly impressed by the force in Seth’s mom’s glare, and truly surprised it didn’t reduce him to a smoking pile of ashes. By the time she turned back to me, it had melted into a warm, welcoming smile. Kind of scary. “By the way, dear, I’m Bev. It’s short for Beverly, but nobody calls me that,” she said. “Please, take a seat and relax. Let me go get Seth’s father. He probably has his headphones in and is dead to the world.”

She bustled out of the room and down a hallway. I obediently took a seat on the red and yellow plaid couch, perched on the edge of the cushion. Seth sat beside me, close enough to touch without actually touching me. He asked, “Everything okay so far?”

“Your mother is lovely,” I said. “I like her more than you at this point.”

He touched a hand to his chest in mock pain. “You wound me.” He cocked his head, considering. “Though, to be fair, she probably likes you more than me right now, too.”

We didn’t get a chance to say anything else to each other before Bev came back down the hallway, tugging by the hand one of the tallest, thinnest men I’d ever seen. “This is Seth’s father,” she told me. “Benjamin, introduce yourself.”

His mustache—dark hair speckled with gray—twitched. “I think you just introduced me.”

“Nonsense.”

The mustache twitched again, but Seth’s dad stepped forward and held out his hand. That was my kind of greeting. Well, more my kind of greeting than a hug was anyway. “Hello. I’m Seth’s father. My name is Benjamin.” It was too bad he looked nothing like a Ben, because Ben and Bev would’ve sounded adorable together.

Benjamin’s handshake was strong and firm without threatening to crush my fingers. “Hi, I’m Seth’s girlfriend. Abby.”

Somehow, between all the introducing and sitting, Bev had conjured up a platter of cookies and some teacups, which she placed on the coffee table between splayed copies of Bon Appétit and Architectural Digest. “These are lime shortbread, and these are chocolate hazelnut biscotti. Pick your choice of tea, too, and I’ll bring in hot water.”

I chose a floral herbal mix, not wanting to introduce more caffeine to my wired nerves, and soon enough Bev was back with hot water for it to steep. “So,” she said over her own cup of tea, as she and Benjamin sat down in a pair of armchairs facing us. One was green; the other was brown leather. “Abby, since we haven’t heard anything about you, you’ll have to fill us in. Tell us all about yourself.”

I cleared my throat and took a sip of tea to stall. It was sweet and pleasantly bitter. “Well, I grew up in the area, in Riverdale,” I said, feeling a bit like I was at an interview for a job I didn’t really want. “Now I run a café up in Vermont. It’s a small operation, just me right now. I make and sell artisan coffee and some easy breakfast and lunch food. Um, it’s a lot of work but a lot of fun.”

Bev’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, so you’re ‘the cute girl at the coffee shop’ Seth looked forward to seeing every morning! How nice that worked out.”

My eyes darted to Seth, who was redder than a steamed lobster. “Mom,” he said, his voice strangled.

“What?” she said. “You’re dating now, aren’t you? So she knows you think she’s cute.”

Something wanted to jump out of my throat. I wasn’t sure whether it was a laugh or a cough. Seth must have started laying the groundwork for our fake relationship before we left so that it wasn’t a total surprise when he showed up with me. I had to assume that, because the thought of him actually thinking I was cute and looking forward to seeing me every morning? It made my insides squirm in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, like going on a roller coaster.

“Anyway,” Bev continued. “So that’s how you met? At the coffee shop?”

Seth jumped in before I could respond, his voice still thin and oddly high. “Sure, I thought she was cute, but she was so grumpy all the time, I didn’t know if we could ever make it work.”

Grumpy? Me? I got my hackles up, but they deflated pretty quickly. Honestly, it fit.