Page 22 of The Boyfriend Swap

I whispered back, “Surprise.” Then I pulled away and gave her a sheepish grin. Usually, the scent of garlic from my mom’s roasted chicken made my mouth water, but the guilt-and-anxiety cocktail I was drinking rid me of an appetite.

Her mouth was slack. “How didthathappen?”

Before I could respond, my father entered the hallway. “My girl’s home.”

“Hi, Dad,” I said, reaching out to embrace him.

“Guess who her date is?” My mom bounced on her toes like a teenager instead of a woman approaching fifty. She could probably recite verbatim every word I’d exchanged with Will in my life up until now because I ran home from school and told her—the words spilling out of me until my cheeks turned blue from forgetting to breathe. Knowing her glee was based on a lie stung my insides.

My dad scratched the small soul patch he’d sported my entire life. “It’s not Perry?”

My mother interrupted, “No. It’s Will—”

As Will joined us, I said, “You remember Will Brady, right, Dad?”

Rendered temporarily speechless, my dad’s blue eyes opened wide before he recovered. “Of course I do. Blast from the past,” he said, patting Will on the back. Even my dad knew if given a choice between one night of passion with Will Brady or Brad Pitt, I’d have picked Will, and he used to threaten to invite the entire Brady family over for dinner for a sing-a-long whenever I misbehaved or whined too much.

“And we’re all hanging out in the hallway because?” Jordon asked, before biting into the Klondike Bar he was holding. Spotting Will, he did a double take. “Will Brady. What’s up, man?”

“Hey, Jordy,” Will said with a smile before shaking his free hand.

“Why are you eating ice cream, Jordy? Dinner’s almost ready,” my mom said.

Poor Will—trapped in a twenty-square-foot space with the crazy Lanes. What must he be thinking? I reluctantly glanced at him and opened my eyes wide in silent apology. Seemingly unfettered, he motioned to my parents. “Thanks so much for inviting me to your home. It’s great to be back in the ’hood.”

While they reminisced, I excused myself to the bathroom and prayed Will wouldn’t refer to me as Sidney by accident while I was gone.

By the time I got out of the bathroom, my father, Jordy, and Will had relocated to the family room while my mother finished up making dinner in the kitchen. When she turned down my offer to help, claiming she was almost done, I poured myself a glass of red wine and sat down next to Will on the couch. “Everything good here?”

“Perfect.” He took a sip of his own wine and clasped his free hand with mine as Jordy studied us with blatant curiosity from his favorite reclining chair. My dad danced over to my mom, who had joined us, and she placed her glass of wine on the coffee table before moving her hips in perfect rhythm with his. They were both completely unself-conscious about their audience as they danced together.

Will observed them with a small upturn of his lips. Then he leaned over and whispered in my ear, “What are we listening to?”

“‘Spring Love.’ Don’t you just love Stevie B?” I asked with the best poker face I could adopt given the proximity of Will’s mouth to my ear and his thumb absently stroking mine.

Will nodded. “My absolute favorite,” he deadpanned, but I could tell he was trying not to laugh. Shaking his head in what I assumed was astonishment, he said, “Were your parents always so…?” He let his voice drop off, leaving me to guess the end of his statement.

I turned away from Will to watch my parents dance together under the gold contemporary-style ceiling lamps of their family room the same as they would beneath the laser lights at The Limelight circa 1985. “Always.” My parents were nothing like the moms and dads of my friends growing up, but they were my family and their eccentricities were what made them unique. If it made Will uncomfortable, so be it—one of the reasons I gravitated toward creative types: they tended to be less judgmental of my parents’ quirks.

Expecting him to roll his eyes, shake his head, or at the very least release a chuckle, I was completely taken aback when, not taking his stare off my parents, he uttered the words “They’re awesome” instead.

Their “awesomeness” lasted about halfway through our first course when my mom looked pointedly across the kitchen table at me and Will before saying, “I think I speak for all of us when I ask howthishappened.” She wiggled her finger at Will and me.

Her question didn’t take me by surprise since it had been asked whenever I brought a new guy home to meet my parents. This time was only different because I never had to lie before and because…well, because the “new” man in my life was Will freakin’ Brady. “It’s a funny story,” I said just as Will responded, “Kind of a funny story.” We glanced at each other and laughed until Will urged me to take the floor.

“I went to a party thrown by Anne Marie’s boss a few weeks ago and Will was there. We got to catching up and hit it off.” I smiled shyly at Will, unsuccessfully fighting the blush prickling beneath my skin. We had agreed on the ride up to keep the tale as simple as possible to avoid tripping ourselves up on small details. I wished I could blame my discomfort on my poor acting skills, but it was so much more. I had no doubt my mother was about to unearth something better left in my teenage diary.

Sidney

“Wow. How richareyour parents?” Perry asked in awe, his eyes wide, mouth slack as he took in my parents’ estate from within the four doors of my Audi.

After parking my car on the spacious paved driveway, leaving enough room for other cars to get in and out, I unlocked the doors and stepped outside. Stretching my arms over my head, I replied, “Pretty effin’ wealthy.” Bellows and Burke was one of the most profitable law firms in the country and the only one of significant size to avoid layoffs after the market crash of 2008. That was before my time at the firm, but my father mentioned it often. The success of the firm coupled with the “old money” handed down on my mother’s side meant finances were not one of my family’s problems.

Perry exited the car after me, still transfixed by the house. “Wow,” he repeated while running his fingers back and forth through his hair. “It looks like the mansion inDynasty.”

I jerked my head back. “How old are you, Perry?”

“Twenty-five. Why?” he asked, flipping his duffle bag over his shoulder.

---