No, he’s asking me for one.
How long have you been dating him?
With a hard swallow, the greasy pizza that will punish me later gets stuck in my throat. “Three months.”
How’d you meet? Do you go out now?
“Mom sells a few pieces at a local store a few towns over.”
Congratulations, he mouths her way.
“Thanks, baby. I’ll take you there to see some recent pieces this week if you like.”
He humors her with a side smile that’s wide enough to reveal his missing tooth before moving his eyes back to me and my rapidly rising chest across the table.
“We met there,” I add. “I don’t really go anywhere alone.”
Not even with him?Ambrose’s eyes land on Shane, his nostrils flaring slightly.
My parents and Shane don’t notice. They don’t know Ambrose like I do.
“We actually don’t go out much.” I shift on the uncomfortable chair that Mom has recently restuffed. “Shane isn’t very social, either. He likes us to stay in. Did Mom introduce you already?” I ask, a hint of nerves in my shaky voice as I straighten my spine with a false bravado.
Ambrose’s head nods, Adam’s apple bobbing as he looks away from me.
“Are you mad at me?” The question falls out and lands on the table between us.
“No,” Dad answers for him. “Of course he isn’t. Why would he be?”
“Please, let him answer.”
Repeating Dad’s answer with actions, not words, Ambrose asks,Why would I be?
A dipped head is my only response, guilt weighing heavily on my shoulders. I hope it goes unnoticed by Shane, who’s devouring three different pizza slices like he’s never going to eat again. Crumbs sit around him on the table as he chews with an open mouth.
I convince myself that’s the reason for the tension in Ambrose’s jaw as I look away from it, taking my first slice of margherita pizza.
The rest of our dinner is eaten in an uncomfortable silence. The only noise being Shane’s poor table manners.
“Pizza good, champ?”
It was good. Thanks, Dad.Ambrose takes a breath, his gaze intentionally anywhere but on me.But today has been…overwhelming. Can I be excused?
“Sure, sweety.” Mom’s mouth opens into a smile, her red lips stretching across her face. Her complexion pales, looking ghostly under the lights.
I blink, clearing the blur of colors, and her face returns to normal.
Ambrose has already left the table.
I kick out of my chair, and it falls over as I stand. Rushing from the room, I stumble over a wooden leg.
“Doll.” Mom grips my hand, steadying me. “He just needs time to settle.”
“I just want to make sure he’s okay.”
Pulling away from her, I run in my slippers through the reading room and find Ambrose on the stairs.
“Ambrose.”
