Page 18 of Lie With Me

Rolling my eyes, I reach for a slice of freshly baked bread and slather it in butter. “Yep. I ran into her, too. I know she’s engaged.”

Both of them stare at me as if I’m not finished talking.

Taking a bite out of my bread, I shrug. “What? I’m fine.”

“Anything you need to tell us, Son?” Pops asks, waving his fork around impatiently.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Emily told them thatyou’reengaged, Tripp! Said she ran into you at Bergdorf’s with yourfiancée. We told them she mustbe mistaken because we weren’t even aware you were seeing anyone!” Mom cries as she sets the serving dish down a little too forcefully. A carrot bounces off the side and lands on the lacquer finish of the Italian imported dining table.

Fuck.

Why thefuckdidn’t I think of that?

Of course, Emily went and told her parents. Because why the fuckwouldn’tshe want to continue destroying my life.

God fucking dammit.

Biding my time by taking a long drink of water, I internally freak out over how to respond. I have no clue who Bianca is or how to get ahold of her. It’s Christmas week. Even if I get the security footage from my building, no one will be able to track her down that quickly.

Mom looks like she’s about to have an aneurysm due to my silence. “Tripp, did you get someone pregnant? Is this why you didn’t tell us? Is this the reason for the mid-life crisis car and not wanting to take over your father’s company?”

Tears fill her eyes as she dramatically slumps into her chair. Pops reaches over and rubs her back while she drops her head to her hands and sobs. “Tripp, what’s going on? Are you in trouble?”

“No! And by the way, Mom, I’d hardly call thirty-one mid-life. Geez, you guys, I didn’t knock anyone up.” My parents and I have a good relationship. There’s no reason why I can’t just come clean and explain what happened.

But I recognize this would be a great reason to move forward with trying to find Bianca.

I weigh my options quickly while my parents look at me expectantly. Telling the truth will just make me look like a jealous asshat. Not telling the truth will be hard to pull off if I can’t find the woman who started this little white lie.

Mom looks like she’s about to say something when I blurt out, “It’s true.”

Pops looks ashamed as Mom breaks down with a fresh batch of tears, “Oh, Son–”

“What? No! No one is pregnant! I’m engaged.”

Mom sniffs. “Engaged? Towho? We didn’t even know you were seeing anyone. How could you be engaged if we’ve never even met her?”

“Well, Mom, when you know, you know. We haven’t been dating that long, but I popped the question last weekend. You’ll love her. You’ll meet her at Jackson’s engagement party.” Picking up my fork, I begin eating, ignoring the confused looks they share and inwardly panicking as my lie continues to spread like wildfire.

“We’re not going to be able to make the engagement party. I had a prior business meeting set up in D.C. I’ve already spoken to Jackson and given him our congratulations. Makes me feel like a jackass, especially now that Scott’s gone and Sadie isn’t coming up either,” Pops says. Whether he’s trying to help diffuse Mom’s melodrama is unclear.

“Don’t feel bad. Jackson isn’t the sentimental type. The only reason Sadie won’t be there is becauseshe and Tyler already planned to be in Chicago for the holidays. Ginny tried pushing everything out so everyone could make events, but we have some big things coming up for work, so it’s what worked best for Jackson’s schedule. Not exactly the best time to be getting married, but he refused to push that back, too. Pretty sure he’s already on a mission to plant his seed.”

Pops laughs while Mom huffs and flings her napkin out to settle it in her lap—her tears magically dry. “Tripp Weylan Kennedy, you don’t need to speak like that at the dinner table!”

“So, why don’t you ask this girl of yours if we can do breakfast next Tuesday? I’m sure it would make your mother very happy,” Pops suggests, looking at me with wide eyes before dropping his gaze back to his roast before Mom sees.

Next Tuesday?

That only gives me a week and two days to find her.

“Are you spending Christmas withherfamily? Is that why you’re not coming?” Mom asks in a tone that I know all too well. She’s already anti-Bianca, and she’s only known about her for less than five minutes.

“No, Mom. I’m working. I promise,” I tell her, around a mouthful of carrots.

“Margo, give him a break. Just because they got engaged right away doesn’t mean they need to get married right away, right, Son?”

“Exactly what I was thinking, Pops.” I point athim with a forkful of potatoes. “Now, can we please talk about something else?”

---