Page 110 of When The Rain Falls

I only roll my eyes halfway. Because I like the idea of Aimee and I being together. I like the thought of the two of us being a something.

"Finn, where's your spatula? It's usually in here," Mom says, rummaging around in one of my drawers.

"My bad," Aimee says. "Sorry, I put it in the next drawer over." My mom pauses her digging and gives me a pointed look. I have no clue what it means.

“Yes, Aimee. I need to know how you met my son since he never goes anywhere." Mom opens the next drawer. She smiles knowingly at me as she pulls out the spatula. Like it’s a fucking clue and she’s solving the mystery of my love life. “He just mopes around the house, like it’s his cave.” I close my eyes and take deep breaths.Maybe I should start counting.

Aimee twirls the glass of water in front of her and considers. "Well, technically, we met at a bar."

"Oh!" my mom exclaims. "A bar?I told youthat you could meet nice girls at bars." She offensively points the spatula at my chest. Someone needs to take that spatula away from her before one of us loses an eye. Or a testicle.

"How do you know she's nice?" my dad asks dryly from his spot in the living room recliner. He’s casually flipping through an issue of Forbes. "She was in your son's pantry, touching all his goods." Fucking Dad.

Aimee just grips my arms tight and laughs like a baboon with a kazoo.

"Sorry for the hazing, Aimee," Jenna adds. "This is payback for all the times I've brought a boyfriend over and Finn's scared him off. I've been dying for an opportunity to get even."

“I never scared anyone off that didn’t need to be scared off,” I interrupt.

"Justin Patterson." Jenna folds her arms and assesses me for a reaction. "VP of an airline. A former student athlete at a Division I school,andtook his grandma to church every Sunday. And youstillcame up with a laundry list of faults."

"But he was a fuckwad. Would it kill you to bring home a guy who isn't a fuckwad?"

"Finnius Albert Hudson! The cussing!" my mom practically hisses from across the kitchen. "I've had enough of your vulgar mouth. I taught you not to swear around company." Aimeeslowly turns her attention to me. And she doesn’t have to say anything. I can alreadyfeelhow much she’s enjoying this.

"FinniusAlbert?!" Aimee asks carefully. "Your full name is Finnius Albert?" Her lips fold into her mouth as she swallows what I know is one of her more hysterical laughs.

"Unfortunately…" I mutter.

"It's a family name," Mom defends.

"Tyler, are you Tyronius or something equally amazing," she asks hopefully.

"Nah. They used up all the cool names with Finn," he says.

"Wait," Mom says, holding up a hand to pause our conversation. "There’s your father. Snoring again,” she says, pointing out a deep rumbling noise coming from the living room. “Can you take turns watching him? He needs to stay awake. If he naps now, he'll be awake all night and there will be no peace in the house. He's been having a touch of insomnia lately."

"I'll take first shift," Tyler offers, pushing off from where he was leaning on the counter. “And I volunteer Aimee to help.” Tyler waves for Aimee to join him. She slips off the barstool and out of my hands as she follows Tyler into the living room. When she leaves, she takes my attention with her. I watch the way she walks in those jeans. The way her lip curls in amusement when she talks. The way she pats my dad on the shoulder like they’re best pals.

"Finn, what are Aimee's favorite flowers?" my mom asks.

"I don't know," I say dismissively. My mind has left the room. Possibly, my heart as well. Is that something I should know? Her favorite flower?Wait a second.Mom’s already planning a fucking wedding.Goddammit.

"Mom. Stop it," I growl at her. Although, I don’t hate the idea. I don’t hate it one bit.

"What?"

"I know what you're up to and I'm telling you to stop it right now."

"I'm not up to anything, Finn. I just like to collect information. What do you think Aimee's favorite season is? Is it spring? I bet she likes spring. What do you think, Jenna?”

"Knock it off,” I scold.

"Oh, I see," Jenna says. She turns to Mom. "Finn's saying that Aimee is more of an elopement kinda gal."

"Thanks a lot, Jenna," I hiss, hands propped on my hips.

Mom drops her knife, wipes her hand on her apron, and turns her whole body around to face me.

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