“She would’ve, if I’d gotten the chance to lay one on her.” There’s a candlelight gleam in his eye as he looks at me, and I know he meant for me to catch his double entendre.
“You know, there’s such a thing as too cocky,” I tell him, and he shrugs like, Sorry not sorry.
“Let’s hear one now,” Greg eggs him on. “What would have been Cassidy’s pickup line?”
I can’t help myself. “Let me guess. ‘Are you a pickpocket?’?” Jack rolls his eyes and I flash him my widest smile.
“I don’t get it,” Greg says.
“Never mind,” Jack continues smoothly. “Knowing that Cassidy’s a writer, I might try . . .” He squints at me for a moment before taking my hand and staring deeply into my eyes. “Your eyes are like an open book, and I can’t wait to dive into this page-turner.”
Greg hoots.
“You got the cheesy part right,” I tell him as our appetizers arrive.
“It’s a gift,” he says simply, releasing my hand so Man Bun can set down my salad.
“Speaking of, how’s the book progress?” Greg asks, grabbing a roll from the breadbasket and tearing off a hunk with his teeth. “When are you gonna let us read some?”
“You’re writing a book?” Jack says in surprise, and my stomach plummets like one of those rides that drops you twenty stories. This is dipping dangerously close to him learning actual, personal details about my life. Knowing the real me.
“Um,” I hedge, trying to figure out how to respond without offering more information than necessary. Christine grimaces and mouths “Sorry” at me. “Sorta? I’m not really ready to talk about it yet,” I say vaguely, scanning the dining room for a diversion. Aha! Man Bun is retreating. I grab him by the elbow before he can. “Sorry, could I get another glass of wine?”
His eyes flick to the nearly full glass in front of me, so I grab it and knock back half its contents in one aggressive swallow.
He eyes me and I eye him right back, daring him to say something. He gets the message. “Sure thing.” You just earned yourself a hefty tip, pal. “Can I freshen any other drinks while I’m at it?”
“Sure, I’ll have another . . . what was this?” Jack asks me, pointing to his nearly empty tumbler.
“An old-fashioned.”
“Ah. How fitting.” He smirks and turns to Greg. “Did Christine put you through the ringer too? How many of your dates did dear old dad have to chaperone?”
I lock eyes with Christine in a panic as Greg echoes, “Chaperone?”
“Oh, he wouldn’t remember,” Christine intervenes, leaping to my rescue. “Anyway, that’s really more of a Cass thing. She’s pretty traditional.”
Greg looks bewildered. “Since when?”
She shushes him. “Eat your salad.”
“She just means I prefer to date men who open doors and pull out chairs,” I clarify, and on this, I realize Betty and Cassidy are in agreement. “Respectful, old-fashioned courtship. Is it so wrong to want that?”
“I’ve always treated you respectfully, haven’t I, honey?” Greg says, squeezing Christine’s thigh playfully.
She snorts. “Sure, yeah. When we’re in bed and you have to fart, you face your butt the other way.”
Greg looks to Jack for backup. “I think that’s pretty considerate.”
Maybe double-dating with these two wasn’t the best idea.
“Well, I find your principles refreshing,” Jack says to me, suppressing a smile. “I like a woman who knows what she wants.”
Of course he does. I close my eyes and count to ten. When that doesn’t do the trick, I repeat it in Spanish.
“As fun as it is fun to watch Cass squirm, I’d rather put you on the hot seat, Jack,” Christine redirects quickly, sensing my impending meltdown. “We already know all of her secrets.”
Jack straightens, lacing his fingers and turning them inside out in a fake stretch. “Is this where the sibling interrogation comes in? I came prepared to be grilled.”
“Excellent, so the arm-twisting I’d planned on won’t be necessary.” She grins and shushes me with a hand, ignoring my protestations. “So Jack, in the event Greg and I both die, Cassidy will gain custody of our kids. Therefore, it’s important for us to know what kind of father figure you’ll be.”
Omigod. I drop my head into my hands and wish for a swift death.
“I completely understand,” Jack says, nodding solemnly. I can’t believe he’s playing along with her shenanigans. “I take that responsibility seriously, so ask away.”
“Do you smoke or do any kind of recreational drugs?”
“No.”
She side-eyes him. “Not even cigars?”
He hesitates. “If they’re disqualifying, consider them gone.”
“Have you ever been convicted of a crime?” She’s ticking things off an invisible checklist.
“No. Though I have been accused of thoughtcrime.”
Greg bellows a laugh and smacks the table.
Christine regards them both wearily. “Have you ever ghosted a woman?” Ooh, that’s a good one.
Jack casts a guilty look Greg’s way. “We all do dumb things in college.”
Christine shakes her head sadly. “That’s disappointing to hear, Jack. I expected better from you.”
I snicker as he hangs his head. It’s one of the things I love most about my sister—she’s totally fearless, intimidated by no one. Not even Jack’s charm can faze her.
“Have you ever changed a diaper?”
He thinks for a minute, then grimaces. “Shit, no. Is that a deal-breaker?”
“We’ll see.” Greg mouths “No” over her shoulder, then pretends to be studying the ceiling when she whips her head around to give him a warning look. “How long does it take you to return your mom’s phone call?” Another good one. She’s on a roll.
I smirk and look to Jack for his response, but there it is again—that shadow. A pinch between his brows that promptly vanishes when he notices me studying him. It’s there and gone, faster than a flash of lightning, so fleeting you wonder if you even saw it to begin with.
“Same day is the only acceptable answer to that, of course,” he answers smoothly. A little too smoothly, if you ask me.
Christine considers him for an extra beat, which tells me she’s picking up on the same less-than-truthful vibes I am. I make a mental note to revisit this later. “How long was your last serious relationship?”
Okay, this has gone far enough. “Christine, stop. Over the line.”
“Over the line? I haven’t even requested his credit score, W-2, and medical records yet.” She leans toward Jack conspiratorially. “I’m also going need to see your browser history and the past three years’ worth of your Amazon purchases, but you can get me all that later.”
“It’s fine,” Jack says, brushing his hand over mine in reassurance, and my knuckles tingle like he’s sprinkled them with fairy dust. “It lasted about a year and a half. And it ended a little over a year ago,” he adds preemptively.
I sit up a little straighter. Now that is new and interesting information. Christine smiles smugly like, You’re welcome.
Her eyes take on a diabolical glint. She’s a dog with a bone now. “Who ended it?”
“Christine. That’s enough.” I murder her with my eyeballs. “Greg, control your wife.”