Page 61 of Masquerade Mistake

“So, how do I do that?”

“Well, the most important part is to just be yourself,” Ethan says. “Don’t do things that aren’t like you, because then she won’t get to know the real you.”

“I already do that,” Finn says, “and she doesn’t care.”

“Because that’s only part of it. The other part is to do kind things for her. Tomorrow ask her what she did after school, and then listen. Find out what kind of shows she watches, and then watch them so you know why she likes them, and maybe even have something to talk about with her. I mean, do you know some of the things she likes?”

As they continue, my mind wanders to the ways Ethan has followed this advice himself. Our first date, when I went on and on about Frankenstein, which then led to questions about my childhood. Our date to the bookstore, where he uncovered my obsession over a certain book series. The way he roped me into showing him the way I dress my hot dog. All of these were simple things, but they were part of his plan to get to know me better and make me feel special—and around him, I do feel special.

I have no doubt Ethan still has feelings for me, even if they’re dulled by the secret I had to keep from him. But now everything is in the open, and while I won’t get in the way of his focus on getting to know his son, I can also use this time to turn the tables on him. Plan outings based on Ethan’s interests. Make him feel special. Help him see that he not only has a family with Finn, but with me too.

“Wait, is this the girl you were hanging out with at the carnival?” Ethan asks.

“How did you know?”

Finn never even saw Ethan there, and I grin waiting to hear how Ethan will get out of this one.

“Your mom mentioned it. So, is it?”

“Yeah, that’s her.”

Ethan chuckles.

“I hate to break it to you, but I think that girl is into you. Just keep being nice to her. By next week, she won’t even remember Ollie’s name.”

Ethan stays through the evening, insisting on making us dinner from what I have in the fridge. He keeps me out of the room while Finn helps, which is fine by me. I use the time to take a bath with a book and a glass of wine, believing I could get used to this. I keep my music on but can still hear clanging pots and pans over the sound of Novo Amor crooning through my phone speakers. I ignore it, nestling in with BA Warner’s latest book, the one she’s debuting at this weekend’s event. By the time I’m a prune and dressed in sweats, I can smell something delicious wafting from the kitchen.

“Finn is washing up before dinner. Don’t look at the sink,” Ethan warns as he sets a plate of roasted carrots on the table next to a bowl of white sauce. I dip my finger in, squealing as he swats me away, then lick the sauce to taste.

“Tahini?” I ask.

“For the carrots,” he says. Then he lowers his voice to a whisper. “Finn already had a carrot when I told him how it helps me see in the dark.”

“Oh my God, what happens when he finds out you’re lying?”

“What do you mean?” he asks. “I totally see in the dark.”

I roll my eyes, but have no time to offer a retort as Finn walks back in. He goes to my chair and pulls it out.

“Sit here, Mom,” he says, gesturing to my normal seat. I raise my eyebrows at Ethan, but he’s busy giving Finn a thumbs up. Then he hides his hand, rubbing the back of his neck as if pretending nothing happened. I laugh, then go to the chair. Finn grunts as he tries to push the chair in, and I scoot to help him.

The rest of the dinner is roasted chicken thighs and mashed potatoes, and everything smells incredible.

“Here, Mom,” Finn says, picking up the plate of carrots with unsteady hands. I grab it before he drops it.

“How about we keep the platters on the table and I hold my plate closer to the food, would that be easier?” I say this as I eye the heavy plate of chicken, imagining it all over the floor.

“Okay,” he says, looking disappointed.

“But you can put the food on my plate,” I say, and he perks up. As he serves me, I glance at Ethan. Thank you, I mouth, and he nods. I see the pride in his face.

After dinner, Finn and Ethan clean up while I sip a glass of wine at the table.

“We should do this every night,” I joke, then laugh when I see the way Finn’s face lights up. He’s standing on a stool at the sink, his hands submerged in soapy water while Ethan rinses—and re-washes—the dishes before setting them in the drying rack.

“Maybe not every night,” Ethan says. “But we can definitely do this again. I like hanging out with you.”

“And Mom too?”

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