Shit!
He’s standing before I can stop him. Panic spreads through my body like wildfire. He moves to the head of the table, right next to my father. God only knows what this man is going to say. He’s like a runaway train, and none of us are safe.
“Martin, are you feeling all right?” my father asks. “Your eyes look a little funny.”
“He’s fine, Carter,” Nana Rosie says. “He’s just had a little too much to drink.”
“That’s right.” Martin winks at my grandmother. “I smoked a little too much wine.”
“Martin.” I smile nervously. “Come sit down. No need to embarrass yourself in front of your boss.”
“Penelope, he’s fine,” my father says. “It wouldn’t be a proper holiday at the Banks house if someone didn’t have a little too much to drink. What’s your news, Martin? It had better not be that you’ve been snatched up by a new firm. We’ve got big plans for you.”
“Nope, that’s not it.” A ridiculous, dopey grin spreads across his face. “The news isn’t even about me. It’s about Penny.”
Oh fuck.
Why does it have to be about Penny? What does that even mean? Is he going to tell everyone that he’s my fake boyfriend? Is he—
“She has a new business venture, and it’s a doozy.”
“A business venture?” My father’s eyes flicker between Martin and me. “Well, this is intriguing. Go on.”
“Dad, we don’t—”
“She’s opening a book McDonald’s,” Martin interjects.
I’m having an out-of-body experience. My soul has left my body, and in some cruel twist of fate, it won’t leave the room. Instead, I’m being forced to watch as Martin takes my pitch for an inclusive romance bookstore and turns it into a fast-food catastrophe. How is it possible that out of everything we talked about, the only thing that cemented in that blond head of his is McDonald’s?
“You’re opening a diner or something with books?” My mother makes a face. “Won’t that be messy? If someone gets a little ketchup on a book, it’s ruined.”
“I’m not opening a diner, Mom.”
“She’s in a coven,” Martin says. “There’s three of them, and they all have special talents.”
“A coven?” My mother’s voice is shrill. “Isn’t that a cult?”
“A coven is for witches, I think,” Sarah says. “I don’t think cults deal in witchcraft. I think they’re more for religious zealots. So are you a witch or a zealot?”
“My daughter is just a witch or a religious fanatic.” My mother covers her face with her hands. “How lovely.”
“Mom, calm down,” I groan.
“The coven is for smut,” Martin says, as if that will somehow calm my mother down. “You know, the stuff she writes.”
“Martin, I think you’ve possibly had a little more than too much to drink.” My father dabs at his temples with his napkin. “Penelope, a little help here would be nice.”
My father glares at me from across the table as if I’m the one who’s somehow responsible for Martin’s present state of mind. I mean, technically, I was responsible for that bong hit in the greenhouse, but Phoebe is the one who invited Mary Jane to dinner in the first place.
“I’m not drunk, Carter.” Martin pats my dad on the top of his head. “Penny’s idea is brilliant, but she’s too scared to pitch it to you.”
“Why would she need to pitch it to me? Penelope’s never once felt the need to include me in her career endeavors.” He crosses his arms over his chest.
“Martin, please,” I beg. “This isn’t the right time.”
Never mind the fact that it’s not even the right pitch.
“She needs money,” Martin says. “Actually, she really needs a sound business partner, which is something you’d be great at. She just doesn’t want to let you into the coven because—”
“Martin, stop.” I stand and motion for him to come sit down. “Please. Dad, I’m sorry.”
“Wait a minute.” Phoebe stares wide-eyed at me across the table. “That’s your big news? Your big news is that you need money? You wanted my big news to share the main course with your big news, and your big news is money?”
“Girls, let’s calm down now,” Nana Rosie says.
“What’s with all this talk about big news?” my mother asks.