Page 36 of An Engagement Pact

“Yeah. I’m fine.” I smile at him to prove it.

He gives me a little eye roll and shake of his head. “If that grin is supposed to be evidence of you being fine, you need to work on it some more.”

I can’t help but laugh, the nervous tension inside me breaking. “Sorry. I really am okay. Honestly, kind of uptight about meeting your parents, although I don’t know why.”

He looks faintly surprised. “They’re not too scary. I mean, it’s not like they’re the most outgoing and welcoming people in the world, but they’re not nearly as intimidating as other Green Valley parents. They’ll be perfectly polite to you. I guarantee it.”

“Okay. Good.” I narrow my eyes at him, curious about his description of his family. “Were they kind of standoffish with you?”

He shrugs. Hesitates. “They weren’t too bad. Dad always worked all the time, and Mom was always happy when she had her circle of friends around. She was really needy when they were divorced, and so she relied on me a lot more than she used to. But I don’t think it was because she was missing Dad. I think it was because she was missing her friends. But I always knew they loved me. We just didn’t do a whole lot of... bonding.”

I nod, thinking through what he said. “That makes sense.” I pause before I add, “It must have been really hard for you to move after the divorce like that. You lost all your friends too.”

His jaw works very slightly. “Yeah.”

I’m not only curious. I’m emotionally compelled to find out more about how Dan felt, how he dealt with the situation, what kind of scars it left on him that he manages to hide so well. But it feels like an intense conversation and not one to have on the way to a cookout. “You’ll have to tell me more about it sometime.”

He shoots me a quick look. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

We fall back into silence, but it’s an intimate kind rather than an uncomfortable one so it doesn’t feel too bad.

***

DAN’S PARENTS ARE EXACTLYas he described them—polite and friendly in a slightly cool way. Like they’re interested in me and pleased to finally meet me but not like they’re particularly invested in who I am and what I’m like.

It’s probably the easiest possibility for getting through this situation, but I still feel kind of offended on Dan’s behalf.

Surely they care about the person Dan is supposed to be in love with. The person he’s planning to spend the rest of his life with. Surely they’d want to get to know her. Surely they want to see their son happy in his personal life.

Maybe they do, but they definitely don’t convey it. It feels like meeting a boyfriend’s boss rather than his parents.

I shrug it off and concentrate instead on making engaging small talk to the various guests scattered around the big yard and pool deck. They’re clearly all friends of his parents rather than Dan. We’re the only people under thirty in attendance. But Dan appears to know most of them, and he chats easily, asking about their health and their pets and their jobs. I pull out every social skill I possess so I can make a good impression, and I’m almost positive that I do.

Everything goes perfectly fine for two hours, and it doesn’t really matter that it’s boring as hell.

We’ve finished talking to a stuffy older couple who are evidently obsessed with their collection of cars when Dan asks me if I need another drink.

I’ve been nursing the same glass of champagne punch for an hour now since I don’t want to get tipsy or have to pee. “I think I’m fine on alcohol for tonight. If I drink any more, I might just fall asleep.”

His eyes laugh, although his lips are adorably sober. “Is that some sort of hint about the quality of this gathering?”

“No! I mean, well...” When I realize he’s teasing, I give him a narrow-eyed glare. “Don’t even try to convince me that you’re having the time of your life.”

“If I have to get through another tedious, superficial conversation, I might blow my top.”

“That might be amusing. You shouldn’t tempt me with a good time.”

He laughs at that and takes my hand to pull me toward the patio doors. “Let’s take a break and get away for a while.”

I have no objections to that proposition. I keep smiling and nodding at everyone we pass until we’re in the house and into the large kitchen. There, Dan greets the caterers blandly and pours out two glasses of lemonade and hands one to me. Then he fills up a plate with a selection of delicious-looking cookies, lemon bars, and petits fours, evidently oblivious to the suspicious look a bad-tempered woman aims at him.

Holding the plate and his glass, he nods toward a different kitchen door. “Come on.”

I follow him through a hall and upstairs to a room at the far end of the house. It was obviously Dan’s bedroom growing up, and it doesn’t appear to have been changed. It still has a lofted bed, a computer desk, and framed posters of indie bands and science fiction movies on the walls.

I stare around at it, smiling.

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