“So who was this douchebag who deigned to poach on my sacred karaoke-territory?” Ryan asks, stuffing a huge forkful of cake into his mouth.
“Language, Ry,” Mom says. “Please, honey.”
“Just this guy I’ve been seeing,” I say. “Sarah’s boyfriend’s twin brother.”
“Whoa. That’s a lot of possessive nouns,” Keane says.
“The twin brother of Sarah’s new boyfriend,” I clarify.
“Yeah, I got it, Protein Shake. I was kidding,” Keane says. He rolls his eyes. “I’m dumb but I’m notthatdumb.”
“Sorry,” I say.
Keane winks at me, apparently not genuinely offended.
“You’ve been seeing someone?” Ryan asks.
I nod.
“What’s his name?”
“Josh Faraday,” I say.
“Also known as the one and only porn king ‘Sir J.W. Faraday,’” Dax says reverently, and I swiftly glare at him, nonverbally telling him to shut the fuck up.
“What?” Mom asks. “You’re dating a porn king?”
“No.” I shoot bullets at Dax, the little fucker. “Dax is just being a little shit.”
“Kat,” Mom says, rolling her eyes. “Language. Come on, guys. Not at the table.Please. Can we just pretend to be civilized through one birthday meal?”
“Sorry, Mom.” I bat my eyelashes. “Dax is just being a littlepill.”
“Thank you,” Mom says. “That’s my little lady. Keep it clean, people.”
“Always, Mommy,” I say sweetly.
“Always,” my brothers chime in with mock solemnity.
“Hey, no porn kings, Kitty,” Dad says. “You know that.”
“Yes, dearest patriarch,” I say. “I know the rules. We all do. No dating porn kings, porn stars, pimps, hoes, felons, junkies, orstrippers.” On that last word, I shoot Keane a snarky look and he smiles broadly. We kids all know Keane’s recently been raking in the cash (one dollar bill at a time) as the Morgan Family’s answer to Magic Mike, but our parents certainly don’t know that. “Don’t worry, Pops,” I continue. “This Josh guy isn’t a porn king or a pimp. He runs an investment-something-or-other with his brother and uncle. He’s a respected member of society, I assure you.”
“Oh, is this the boy from Las Vegas you were telling me about?” Mom asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “But he’s not from Las Vegas, Mom—he’s actually from Seattle, though he lives in L.A. now.”
“Wasn’t that guy supposed to come to dinner tonight?” Colby asks.
“Oh, that’s right,” Mom says. “I forgot about that. Why didn’t he come?”
“Something unexpectedly came up at work and he had to fly home to L.A.” Heat flashes into my cheeks at my lie. “He told me to tell Colby ‘Happy Birthday’ and that he’s sorry to miss the party. He was especially sorry to miss out on your spaghetti, Mom—I told him it’s legendary.”
Mom smiles.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll meet Josh one of these days soon,” I say breezily, smiling at Mom, even though my stomach is turning over.Considering he’s gonna be the father of your grandchild.
“Damn,” Dax says. “I was looking forward to seeing if J.W. Faraday is as pretty as his picture.” Dax addresses the group. “I saw a photo of this guy the other day and he’s even prettier than Ry, if you can believe it.”
