Page 95 of Oh, Flutz!

“First, thank you for having me. I mean it, truly. Not just because the food was delicious, but because now I know that things are significantly worse for my partner here than he ever let me know.”

Mom drops the serving spoon with a clatter.

“Bryanhasaccepted reality, Mr. Young. So much so that he thinks it’s normal for his own parents to treat him the way you have treated him. The few times I’ve even made him speak about it, he has acted like he deserves it. Which he doesn’t, not by any stretch of the imagination. He is one of the best people I’ve ever gotten to know, and he clearly hasn’t become that way because of either of you. I would say he’s become so inspiteof you.”

I’m not breathing.Holy. Shit.

“And maybe he is too good to hold a grudge. But that’s what he has me for.”

She looks directly at my father. He looks back. They’re locked in a staring contest of the steeliest, most frigid glares I’ve ever seen, and it doesn’t seem like either of them are letting up until my dad finally breaks eye contact, setting his napkin down on the table and turning his wheelchair away with a scoff.

“You two are perfect for each other,” is what he says before leaving, and even though he says it so nastily it would usually make me cringe, I just look over at the girl next to me in shock. Mom quickly gets up and busies herself, clearing the plates and disappearing into the kitchen.

“Did that just happen?” Alex asks quietly, eyes popped out of her head, and that’s when I start grinning.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

KATYA

We're walking back fromBryan's parents' house after the, um, incident.

Neither of us have said anything yet, not since I basically ruined Thanksgiving dinner and we had to make an awkward exit after everyone but Alexandra left the table.

Bryan, of course, made sure to snag a Tupperware full of pumpkin pie before we did, and he’s currently cradling it in his arms like a newborn baby as we walk along the sidewalk, wandering around town as winter creeps in, my hands crossed over my chest to shield against the bitter wind.

Our arms keep brushing against each other, and I almost think he’s doing it on purpose, fingers glancing against my hip, but I quickly look up and he’s looking straight ahead, pushing aside the hair that’s fallen across his forehead.

“Um,” he says, right as I’m starting to open my mouth, and we both flush.

“You go,” he offers.

“I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have done that back there.”

My partner furrows his brows at me. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you idiot, that I just made a bigger mess of things. I should’ve kept my mouth shut, it wasn’t my place, but I just—” My blood boils as I remember everything that—thatmanwas saying. And Bryan’s mother, too. I thought I must’ve been hallucinating, that they couldn’t be saying those things about their own son, especially one like theirs, but sure enough, Bryan was sitting next to me trying to control his breathing and I was getting the feeling that this happened far more often than just on Thanksgiving.

“I couldn’t believe it,” I tell him truthfully. “I just couldn’t sit there and let them talk about you like that. It was horrible.”

He smiles weakly. “Sorry.”

I frown. “What on earth are you sorry about?”

“I kind of ruined your first Thanksgiving. I wasn’t able to get out of it, but I should’ve let you go to the Kwans’ with everyone else.”

I almost tell him that he’s insane if he thinks any of this is his fault, but I stop myself. “It’s okay,” I say instead, then nudge him. “At least we secured the pie.”

That gets a real smile out of him. “That we did.”

“Where are we going?” I question, and he nudges me back.

“The Kwans.’ Everyone’s there already, and Jules is going to kill me if I don’t bring her some of this.” Bryan points to the container, and I smile.

“Does your mother know her baking is so popular?”

“Oh, absolutely. She revels in it. Her pride and joy,” he adds, with a slight sourness in his voice that makes me flick my gaze back over to him. He doesn’t flat-out say, her pride and joy,unlike me,but I can hear it all the same. I try my best not to ball my fists up, and I just link an arm through his instead.

“Katya?” he murmurs. “About before…”

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