Page 66 of His Jersey

Aston trails behind her husband, talking loudly on her phone.

Allain pulls out the chair for her and she stares into the middle distance, laughing at whatever the caller says. I catch his veneer slip.

“Aston, baby, please join us,” Allain coos in a voice that sounds one octave away from paternal.

Jack was taking a sip of water and nearly spews it all over the table. “Did you seriously just call her baby?”

“Nice to see you too, son.”

Aston gives Jack a dirty look. “When he calls me darling, it makes me feel old.”

He turns to me and says, “Darling, you’ve met my father.”

“Nice to see you again, sir,” I say, trying to suppress laughter at Jack throwing shade at the couple—from what I‘ve seen so far, it‘s not entirely undeserved.

Mr. Bouchelle barely nods at me.

Jack continues, “This isBaby. I mean Aston.”

Her glare at her stepson deepens before she turns to me, likely seeing that I’m younger than she is. It’s probably only by a few years, but it’s hard to tell because she’s had some cosmetic help of the semi-to-permanent variety.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say warmly.

She gives me a full-length survey with judgy eyes and makes a littlethhsound.

Well, okay. Never mind feeling underdressed, which I do, I feel ill-equipped. It’s like I brought a wooden spoon to a bake-off—I love those shows and wish I were home watching one. If I had a home.

My go-to move with girls like her is to make myself invisible, but we’re seated across from each other at the table. I paste on a smile as if that immediate dismissal from the Bouchelle family didn’t happen.

Addressing his father, Jack, still hung up on the pet name, says, “You always called Momdarling.” Then, turning to me, he asks, “Does me calling you darling make you feel old or like my mother, Ella?”

I suppress a smile. “No, it’s lovely.” I belatedly realize I’ve just made myself an enemy if Aston is paying attention, but Ishouldn’t care. I’m here to be in Jack’s corner as his fake fiancée.

He slides his napkin onto his lap. “Also, there’s a no phone at the dinner table rule.”

Clutching her device, Aston continues to tap away.

“That was when you were a kid,” Allain says.

“Babies, kids, all the same, if you ask me. They should have restrictions on access to technology until they’re older.” Jack leans back in his chair.

I find myself nodding.

The server takes our drink order and while Aston remains distracted by her phone, Allain and Jack discuss his decision to join the Knights.

Allain says, “I think it’s a bad move. You have a business to inherit.”

Aston goes still as if her ears picked up on this part of the conversation.

“Dad, to be real, I have a few more years in me. You’re not passing the torch just yet.”

“Aston wants me to work less.”

“So she can sit next to you while on her phone?” Jack asks.

She sets it on the table with a little more force than necessary. “I’m just looking after his health. Stress isn’t good for someone his age.” She rubs the side of her hand on his cheek.

“Are you saying my father is old? Look at him, the man is in his prime,” Jack says, taking a sip of water, likely to keep himself from saying more.

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