We’re in the car, driving back to Sage’s place, when I realize I want to take her to dinner—at my parents’ house. My fingers grip the steering wheel as the idea enters my head, and I know that even though it’s fucking crazy, there’s no way I can let it go now.
Glancing over at her in the passenger seat, my cock twitches in my pants as I remember what her body felt like in my hands. How perfect that little ass is and how hard I came just from rubbing my dick on her.
My memory of the night we had sex is hazy from alcohol and adrenaline. I want to remember what it feels like to really sink my cock inside her. I want to feel how tight she is, how warm, how sweet, and how dirty.
What happened just now in my father’s office was crossing the line, but at least we crossed it together. I could read the expression of need and desire on her face. She came at the same moment I did. That’s just how in sync we are. How mind-blowing would the sex have been if we let ourselves truly give in?
What kind of man does that make me if I treat this girl like she means nothing more to me than a quick fuck? If I’ve disregarded her for so long but suddenly find myself wanting to know how she feels from the inside.
It makes me a piece of shit. It makes me no better than him.
My head is getting flooded with guilt when I truly need to keep my focus here. Take down Truett. Ruin the man who took everything from me.
I’ve fucked with his work. Now I’m ready to fuck with his home.
“Will you come to dinner with me?” I ask, glancing sideways at her. My eyes catch on the way her soft-pink waves blow across her face, revealing the constellation tattoo on the side of her neck.
“Dinner?” she asks, curling her hair behind her ear. “Sure.”
“Perfect.”
We pull up to her apartment and sit in silence for a moment, and it feels like that moment in the office is lingering in the air, thick with tension.
“Do you want to come up?” she asks softly as she stares out the window. “I’m going to edit the video for the app.”
Something is pulling me up to her apartment. A force that promises more than just sex. I see the way she looks at me. How she wants to fix me. Comfort me. Offer me more than my family could.
Fuck. It’s really messing with my head. And messing with my head is not part of the plan.
“No. I’ll go home, but be ready for me to pick you up at five for dinner.”
She’s opening the door before I even finish my sentence. Hovering over the open door, she leans in with a sympathetic expression as she nods. “Okay, Adam. See you then.”
Then she closes it and walks away.
My afternoon was spent tossing and turning on my couch, sleep evading me until I let my mind wander to the tattoos on her skin, tracing each one in my head like my own form of meditation. That’s what finally helped me nod off, and I slept so soundly that I barely woke in time to pick her up for dinner.
As I pull up to her apartment, I take out my phone and text Caleb. I’ve been an asshole brother for not talking to him more lately, but I can’t possibly bring him into this.
I’m bringing my girlfriend to dinner tonight.
He texts back almost immediately. I’m grinning at my phone with confusion as he responds.
Fuck yeah.
You seem to really like her. Which means Mom will like her.
Well, this is feeling too fucking real all of a sudden. And it settles heavily in my gut like dread as the passenger door opens and Sage slides into the seat next to me. She has on a pair of black chunky boots with a short green corduroy skirt…and a bra.
“You forgot your shirt,” I mutter as my eyes rake over her petite frame in my passenger seat. The only thing covering her bra is an open flannel shirt that’s so long the sleeves hang over her wrists. It’s an atrocious outfit…and she really should not look so good in it.
“I thought you’d like it,” she replies, beaming at me with her perfectly straight white teeth. When she catches me staring a moment too long, her smile fades. “What?”
I clench my jaw as I look forward, fighting a smile as I put the car into drive. “Nothing. I’m just…” My voice trails.
“Just what?”
“Just wondering what you’d look like,” I say, finishing my thought with a wince.
“What I would look like if…what?”
Glancing sideways at her, I start to feel bad for even bringing this up, but now I know she won’t let me let it go.
“If you were…normal,” I reply sheepishly.
Instead of pouting or getting mad, she laughs. “You mean, you wonder if you’d be attracted to me if I looked normal,” she says, using air quotes.
I am attracted to you, I think but don’t say.
“No,” I say, quickly avoiding that accusation.
“Yes, you do,” she persists. “Here.” She pulls out her phone and scrolls through some apps as I drive. Then as I pull up to a stoplight, she thrusts her phone in my face. There on the screen is a blonde-haired young woman with a button nose, a dimpled chin, and straight white teeth in a cheesy grin. She’s wearing an oversized green sweater and tiny shorts that barely peek out the bottom. She’s holding a key chain in her hand.
“I was seventeen. I got the keys to my first apartment. Out of my mother’s house and on my own for the first time.”
A smile creeps across my face against my will as I stare at the girl in the photo and see Sage.
One question answered. Would I still be attracted to her if she looked normal? Yes.
It’s too bad she had to go and fuck it all up with that ring in her lip that her tongue is constantly fiddling with. And those tattoos all over her pretty skin, from her neck to her toes. And that pink fucking hair that looks like cotton candy in the sunshine.
“Answer your question?” she asks, giving me a mischievous grin.
I clear my throat, tightening my grip on the steering wheel.
“Was that scary?” I ask, changing the subject. “Moving out on your own at such a young age?”
She scoffs playfully. “Scary? No.”
Glancing sideways at her in the passenger seat, my eyes catch on the thick lashes as she blinks down at the photo on her phone.
“Not at all?” I ask.
“No. Sure, it was a struggle, but to me, the struggle meant I was free.”
“Was it so bad living with your mom?”
She shrugs. “We fought a lot. And I felt like I had to fight for her love. It was like she always wanted me to be grateful to her for the simplest things, things she should have done because she loved me. So I just decided that I was better off without it.”
The car grows quiet for a moment as I stare ahead at the road, thinking about what she just said. It strikes me how much I can relate to that, and not just about my father, but maybe about my faith too.
“So, where are we going?” she says with eagerness. I know I’m probably about to crush that excitement.
“My parents’ house.”
Her head snaps in my direction as her eyes widen in surprise. “What? Why?”
“Because I go every Sunday. Well, I used to. I haven’t been to Sunday dinner in six weeks, and I think it’s time I return…honey,” I say, adding on the romantic pet name with a teasing smile.
The shock on her face slowly morphs into frustration. An adorable little divot appears between her brows as she glowers at me. I can tell she’s working herself up, and I love that Sage doesn’t hold back. She’s not like the women I date: quiet, compliant, shoving their feelings down to avoid confrontation.
“Adam, dear,” she replies with grit. “The whole plan was to tarnish your reputation to ruin your father’s. But you’re using me to irritate him. I know that was the plan, but you’re taking it all too far. When are we going to get to torturing my ex with our fake relationship? So far, it’s all been about you.”
Tendrils of guilt and shame creep their way up my spine as I stare straight ahead, letting her words sink in. Then I snake my hand over to her thigh, resting it there as I look into her eyes.
“It’s just a casual family dinner,” I say softly, feeling tethered by her bright-blue eyes. “It’s really special to my mother, and I’ve missed it.”
The wrinkle between her brows slowly disappears. The tension in her shoulders melts away and she slides down against the seat.
I wasn’t going for sympathy and I wasn’t trying to manipulate her. What I said is true. I miss family dinners, and I don’t want to go alone. I don’t want to face my family’s scrutiny without someone by my side.
As we pull up to the house, I place the car into park behind Caleb’s SUV. After shaking off my nerves, I open the door and Sage does the same. We meet on the driveway, where I put out my hand and she slides hers into it.
When we reach the front door, I open it like I always do, feeling the eyes of the security camera on my back the entire time. Leaving the front door unlocked on Sundays is another one of Mom’s wholesome traditions. Normally this place is locked down like a prison, but she finds something symbolic in leaving it open one holy day a week, and not just for her children, but for anyone. Of course, no one knows it’s unlocked, but she does. And that’s all that matters.
There’s chatter coming from the dining room as we step into the grand foyer. Sage squeezes my hand, pulling her plaid shirt a little tighter around her chest to cover herself. And as we take two steps inside, I catch sight of our reflection in the giant mirror over the entryway table.
Sage sees it too, because we both stop. For a moment, we stand there and stare. There’s something about the sight of us together that holds my interest. It’s like I can’t look away. Like I love the way she looks by my side. Full of color and her skin speckled with art, she is far more interesting than my drab black-on-black appearance.
I slip my phone out of my back pocket and tuck her under my chin, both of us facing the mirror as I snap a pic. Neither of us is smiling, and honestly, we both look sad and yet beautiful as well.
“For the socials,” I whisper as I slip my phone back into my pocket.
“Did someone come in?” my mother calls just before appearing at the end of the hallway. She freezes in place as her eyes land first on Sage and then on me.
“Adam,” she mumbles softly.
“Hi, Mom,” I reply. Just seeing her feels like a punch to the gut. “You remember Sage.”
It takes my mother a moment before she can react, still in so much shock either from me showing up after so long or from Sage’s presence in general. But the woman standing in front of me doesn’t have a rude bone in her body.
“Of course.” She greets Sage with a smile, walking toward us with arms wide. “I’m so glad you came, sweetie.”
My mother hugs my date first, a warm embrace that doesn’t appear uncomfortable or forced in the slightest. In fact, even Sage squeezes my mother in return in a way that almost appears to be a surprise to her.
Then my mother hugs me, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek as she does. Suddenly being in her arms makes me feel smaller and all the filthy and hateful things I’ve done in just the past month come coursing through my mind like a tsunami of shame.
“I was hoping you’d come. I made your favorite,” she says with a smile as she takes our hands and pulls us across the house toward the dining room. I laugh to myself as she does because she thinks my favorite is her lasagna, but the truth is, they’re all my favorites. She couldn’t cook a bad meal if she tried.
As we reach the dining room, all the gentle chatter stops and a clang of forks hitting plates replaces the sound of their conversations. I feel my father’s heated glare on my face as I pull Sage under my arm.
“Uncle Adam,” Abigail shrieks, stealing my attention and forcing a smile on my face.
“Hey, Abby,” I reply, tousling her messy brown hair. Then, I realize my fake girlfriend hasn’t met my real niece yet. “Sage, this is my niece, Abigail.”
“Hi,” Sage says, awkwardly waving to her and then to the entire table. My brothers return the greeting while my mother busies herself, setting another place at the table. “I hope it’s not too much trouble,” Sage mutters delicately.
“Of course not,” my mother argues. “There is always room at the table.”
Meanwhile, my father and I are in a hate-filled stare-down, his nostrils flaring with his rage as my face remains stoic and calm, like a dare. He can get as angry as he wants. Hell, that’s the whole fucking point. But I refuse to break.
“Please, sit,” my mother calls as Sage and I take our seats next to each other between Abigail and Luke.
My niece grins up at me excitedly, and I feel another sucker punch of guilt for missing out on six weeks of this.
“Sorry I’m not really dressed for Sunday dinner,” Sage says in a soft apology. “Adam didn’t tell me we were coming.”
My mother laughs. “You look beautiful.” Then she gives me a pointed stare. “Adam Matthew Goode, communicate with your date a little better next time. I taught you better.”
The smile that tugs on my lips feels like a relief. “Yes, ma’am,” I say with a nod.
“We were just about to say grace,” a dark voice from the head of the table says in a cruel, muttering tone. We all turn our attention to him as he puts on his best fake smile. “Perhaps our guest would like to lead us tonight.”
Sage’s eyes widen as she shakes her head. “Oh, I can’t. Thank you, though—”
“I insist,” he argues.
“I can say it,” I interject, but he only holds up a hand.
“Son, we let our guests say grace. You know that.”
Shivers tingle their way up my spine as everyone stares at Sage, and I feel every bone in my body tense. My hackles rise as I frantically try to find a way to protect her. I never should have brought her here, and just as I’m about to push out my chair and yank her from this table, she clasps her hands together in front of her.
“I’ve never said grace before, but I can try.”
“Thank you,” my mother whispers.
Sage glances up at me through a side glance. Our eyes meet for a moment, and I give her a reassuring nod before she turns her eyes downward and clears her throat.
“I never sat down with my family for a meal. I’ve never sat down with any family for a meal like this,” she says, and I notice the eyes around the table lifting to glance in her direction. But Sage continues, “And I’m so incredibly thankful to be here. I’m thankful for Mrs. Goode for cooking this delicious meal. I’m thankful for the entire Goode family for allowing me to sit here with you, and I’m thankful for Adam’s brothers for being so nice to me, even though I’m an outsider. And mostly, I’m thankful for Adam—”
“That’s enough,” my father barks from the end of the table.
Abigail flinches next to me, and my anger grows as I glare at my father.
“Truett!” My mother scolds him in a harsh whisper.
Still, Sage continues, “I’m thankful for Adam for showing me what a real good man is, without judgment or hypocrisy.”
“I said enough!” Truett snaps again.
“Thank you,” she finishes, and before my father can interject any more, I hear Luke from across the table.
“Amen.”
“Amen,” the others follow.
My niece’s small voice is last as she softly mumbles, “Amen.”
A fist lands on the table with a bang, rattling glasses and plates. Then he points a finger at Sage. “Young lady—”
“Don’t,” I snap, my fierce gaze on his face. “Don’t talk to my girlfriend like that. She did what you asked her to.”
He ignores me and looks back at her. “Grace is meant to thank God and God alone for the blessings in our lives. My family is well aware of that,” he says through clenched teeth, his eyes scanning the room.
“Well, you asked me to say it, and that’s how I say it,” she replies, her chin held high. Something warm and affectionate settles in my chest at the sight.
“It was lovely,” my mother replies.
“Yes, it was,” I say with my hand on the back of Sage’s chair. I move it to rest at the top of her spine, just under her neck, and I move on instinct alone. My mind hardly registers what I’m doing as I gently nudge her toward me. As she spins to look at me, our eyes meet. Then our lips.
It’s a quick kiss, but it feels monumental.
As our faces part, her gaze stays tethered to mine. When I finally face forward, I avoid the curious and shocked stares from the rest of my family.
“Let’s eat,” I say to break up the tension. As I reach for the lasagna in the center of the table, I’m feeling particularly pleased at the moment. Truett is unhinged, thrown completely off guard, and angrier than ever. And the beautiful woman at my side is the one responsible.
