Downstairs, the doorbell rings. Who on earth is ringing my mother’s doorbell after nine? A horrifying thought pops into my head: What if she has a secret boyfriend? My stomach roils at the thought. That would be too weird.
“Finn,” Mom yells from downstairs, “it’s for you.”
I bring the phone with me, holding it between my ear and shoulder as Hannah continues to vent, her rant seamlessly transitioning from David to Brooke. I know from experience this could go on a while. As I pad down the stairs a pair of leather driving moccasins come into view.
I take a few more steps and see dark jeans, rolled at the ankle.
A few more steps, a green sweater I recognize.
Theo’s here? In my mother’s foyer? And he looks exhausted. A battered brown leather duffel rests at his feet.
“Uh, Han, I have to call you back. Theo’s here,” I tell her, and with her permission, I end the call.
At the sound of my voice, he looks up at me and his face cracks into a shy smile.
“What are you doing here?” I wonder aloud.
Theo looks around to make sure no one else is in earshot. “Your text,” he says. “You said it was awful, and then when I tried to call you your phone was off. So I came to save you. Or suffer along with you. Your pick, really.”
“You came . . . here?” I ask, my brain still catching up to what is happening.
He nods.
“So, do you think we should make a run for it?” He points over his shoulder at the front door and flashes me a wink.
“No . . . I . . . ,” I sputter. I can’t believe he came all this way to save me from my family. Sure, this isn’t my ideal weekend, but it’s not that bad. I didn’t need saving, I just wanted to complain. And now Theo cut his own trip short and hopped on a plane at a moment’s notice to rescue me. I can’t decide if I want to hug him or jump him or cry. My brain’s still trying to process that he’s even here.
“We’re staying, right?” he asks after a minute. “Because your mum is heating me up a plate and I’m famished.”
I tackle him with a hug. I’m glad my face is buried in his neck because I can feel tears prickling in the corners of my eyes. He rubs his hands up and down my back. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”
And he’s right. Now that he’s here, I am okay. I bask in the sense of safety I feel in his arms. “Thank you,” I whisper into his cashmere sweater.
“California was boring without you anyway.”
* * *
? ? ?
?I pick at a second slice of pie while Theo attacks a plate of leftovers, stopping every few bites to compliment my mother’s cooking.
“My mum once burned a Tesco ready meal so badly the fire brigade had to come. It was a curry, I think, but by the time they put the flames out it was just charred plastic and rice. I think that’s the only thing I ever saw her cook. I can’t believe you made all of this, Mrs. Everett,” Theo marvels.
“Oh, you’re too kind,” she says. I catch her smiling into her cup of decaf coffee at his compliment. “Finn didn’t tell us he had a friend coming or we would have set aside a plate. I’m afraid it’s just the odds and ends left.” Her tone puts honking neon air quotes around the word “friend” to make it clear she suspects we’re more.
“Nonsense, this is wonderful. I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way,” Theo says. He looks over at me and narrows his eyes, and the left side of his mouth quirks up in a mischievous smile. I don’t like where this is going. “It’s just that I didn’t think I’d be able to make it. I was in California on some business, but the minute we wrapped up, I got myself on an earlier flight. I couldn’t stand to be away from my friend a minute longer.” He’s ratcheted up his accent, the way he does when he’s trying to charm someone, and by the look on my mom’s face, it’s working. He drapes his arm over my shoulder for emphasis.
I’ve dreamed about these moments so many times: being Theo’s boyfriend, being home. I never dared to dream them together, but here I am.
And it’s a joke.
I know this is a bit he’s performing to cheer me up, to affirm we’re in this together. Us against the world! But it’s having the opposite effect. Instead, I feel unbearably sad. I should stop him. If I go along with this, it will only be a matter of time before we have to stage a pretend breakup or admit we lied.
“Well, isn’t that nice,” she tells him before I can object. “I’m glad Finn has someone like you in his life. It’s so good to have you here again, and under happier circumstances this time. But Theo, you’ll have to excuse me for being poor company. I was up before the sun to get this turkey in the oven and I’m exhausted. I’ll leave you boys to it and head up to bed. But I’m so glad we’ll get to spend the day together tomorrow.”
“Me as well, Mrs. Everett.”
“Call me Suzann, please,” she tells him.
“Suzann, then,” he basically purrs.
“Finn, you’ll take care of the plates?” she says, an order masquerading as a question. “And leave a light on for your sister for when she gets home from wherever she went with her friends. You know she’ll come back drunk.” She shakes her head as if to say, Kids, what can you do?
But I wouldn’t know. I missed Amanda’s high school years in this house. It’s easier to agree anyway. “Yes, Mom.”
As she walks out of the room, I remember something. “Mom, where are the sheets for the pullout in the basement?”
“Oh honey, I don’t mind if you share your room. You know I’m more modern than your father. You boys sleep well.”
Theo death grips my arm as she walks into the kitchen. He claps his other hand over his mouth as she rinses her coffee mug and puts it in the dishwasher. By the time she makes it up the stairs, he’s convulsing with silent laughter.
“Admit it,” he says between bursts of laughter after her bedroom door clicks shut. “That was cute!”
“That was not cute. It was weird, like she’s campaigning for some kind of most-improved award. Earlier, she shoved me back in the closet when someone asked if I had a girlfriend. Let’s not give her too much credit. I don’t think she’s getting a rainbow bumper sticker anytime soon.”
“Does that mean you don’t want to sleep with me tonight?”
I gulp down the lump that’s formed in my throat. I want that more than anything, even though I know Theo only thinks of it as a continuation of his bit. “Really, if you’d rather sleep on the pullout, I can find the sheets. We should tell her we aren’t together. She’s got the wrong idea, and if we keep this going, we’re going to need to stage some kind of fake breakup.”
“You’d have to be the one to fake break up with me. I would never break up with you, you’re the best fake boyfriend I’ve ever had!” He ruffles my hair the way one would a little brother’s.
“We’re telling her in the morning,” I say.
“Oh, come now, at least she’s trying. Let her think whatever she wants. But, serious question, do you have another pair of those very handsome pants for me?” He gestures at the Falcons fleece pajama pants I put back on after company left. “I didn’t bring any pajamas,” he adds.