Page 32 of Revenge Brunch and Other Disasters

Rhys…did not flinch.

Linda blinked rapidly. “I—I mean—uh, not that there’s anything wrong with that, obviously. And obviously I’m the world’s most supportive pretend girlfriend because, you know, allyship and brunch. But, um, yes. He’s, uh… super gay. Very. Can’t walk past a sequin. The whole thing.”

Her mother, bless her, immediately gasped and clutched her pearls (real ones—Linda checked).

“Oh, sweetheart, why didn’t yousayso?” she said to Rhys, patting his hand. “We support youfully. Always. Love is love.”

Her dad nodded solemnly. “I watchQueer Eye.”

Sir Stumps-a-Lot rolled dramatically onto his side like he couldn’t even deal.

Rhys, still unbothered, smiled graciously. “Thank you. It means a lot to feel so welcomed.”

Linda choked on her wine. “WHAT.”

Rhys turned to her, eyes twinkling. “You started it,sweetheart.I’m just following your lead. I get wanting to be honest with your parents.”

Her mom beamed. “You two are just so comfortable together. It’s like you’ve known each other forever. Like platonic soulmates. I love it.”

Linda gave him alook—one that said: I will murder you with a corn cob.

Rhys winked.

It didn’t help.

Later, as they were leaving and Linda was contemplating just walking into traffic out of sheer secondhand embarrassment, her mom hugged her tightly.

“You’ve always needed someone steady. I’m glad you have each other—even if it’s just as soulmates with excellent taste in brunch,” she whispered.

Linda nodded stiffly. “Mmhm. Yep. Platonic soulmates.” Now was not the time to mention she’d started to wonder how his lips would taste.

Once they were in the car, Linda turned to him.

“You are the worst person I have ever met.”

“I wasbeing nice.”

“You brought my mompeach-coloredroses.”

“I also made your dad laugh. Twice.”

Sir Stumps-a-Lot whined from the backseat likeheneeded them to get it together.

Linda groaned. “They’re going to invite you to Thanksgiving, aren’t they?”

“I hope so,” Rhys said. “I make a mean cranberry sauce.”

Linda slapped a hand over her face. “I hate you.”

He looked over, annoyingly sincere. “No, you don’t.”

She sighed. “I really don’t. I’m sorry the being your beard thing didn’t work out—sorry I ruined it.”

Rhys froze. “What?”

“There’s no point now. My parents know and my mom is atalker—”

“I—Uh.” He fidgeted in the driver’s seat. More nervous than she had ever seen him. With a wry laugh, he continued. “My ex reached out,” he said softly, eyes on the road. “Wants to get back together.”

---