Page 30 of The Boyfriend Swap

“There’s my honey bunny. How was your run, Cherry?” He stood up and pulled me in for a kiss which, thankfully, was closed mouth, or else I might have been tempted to bite his tongue.

Ruffling his hair for show before slowly removing myself from his embrace, I shivered. “It was cold. But now I feel better about eating whatever I want for the next two nights.” Darting my eyes between my parents, I said, “You guys are up and about early.”

“I have so much to do today. First, I need to go over the menu for tomorrow with the caterers and confirm they have enough vegetarian options, and then I need to double check the seating chart,” my mom said.

My dad nodded. “Yes. Those two items will certainly take you all day,” he said with a chuckle before continuing to type on his laptop. As my mom went to swat his hand, he grabbed it and kissed her palm. All was forgiven.

“Sidney mentioned I’m on a gluten-free diet, right?” Perry asked.

As my mouth dropped open, my mom glared at me. “She most certainly did not.”

Turning away from my mother, I smiled gently at Perry, hoping he’d see the daggers shooting out of my eyes. The idiot had neglected to tell me about his dietary restrictions, but I couldn’t very well admit as much to my mother since it would raise a serious red flag and suggest we’d never shared a meal together. “You sure I didn’t tell you, Mom? Isn’t that why you made vegetarian corn tortillas and quinoa salad last night for dinner?” Senility was an unlikely culprit, since my mother was only fifty-six, but she might blame a lapse in memory on party-planning stress and let me off the hook.

My mother sighed. “The menu last night was mere coincidence, Sidney. We have gluten-free options for tomorrow night, but now I have to speak to the caterer about tonight.” She shook her head in annoyance.

“I’m sorry to add extra work for you,” Perry said, frowning in my mother’s direction and widening his eyes to pools of blue.

“No worries, dear,” she said with a sweet smile before turning to me and adding, “Notyourfault.”

Raising my hands in defeat, I said, “I’m sorry. Dad has me slaving away at the office. How am I supposed to remember everything?”

Looking up from his computer, my dad said, “Leave me out of this. And don’t blame it on work either. I haven’t seen you with your computer all weekend.”

I rolled my eyes. “We only arrived yesterday and you all wanted to watchIt’s a Wonderful Lifelast night.” With a loud exhalation, I said, “Dinner’s not for another ten hours. Plenty of time. Want me to pick up some gluten-free dishes at Trader Joe’s? I need to run some errands anyway.” I glanced at Perry. “How do you feel about going to the mall with me?”

“I’m here for you, Sidney. Whatever it takes,” he said.

“Great.” As the words slipped off my tongue, I realized Perry had answered my question using an Indian English accent. “Are you rehearsing for something?” Was Perry’s manager so useless that he encouraged him to waste his time auditioning for roles he’d never pull off, no matter how convincing his accent was? Perry—blond, blue-eyed Perry—would never pass for Indian unless he was playing the adopted son of Indian parents or the show was being performed exclusively to a blind audience.

“No. Perry’s been giving us examples of all of the voices he learned in acting school.” My mom clapped her hands together and said, “Brilliant” before pursing her lips at me. “And the answer is no, Sidney. You cannot pick up dishes at Trader Joe’s. I’m not serving prepared meals on Christmas Eve. The caterer will have plenty of time to arrange a few extra dishes for Perry.”

“Don’t go to any trouble for me, Barbara,” Perry said in an apologetic tone—no accent this time.

Waving him away, my mom said, “It’s no trouble. Can you do a Scottish accent? Do Sean Connery.” She looked at me with wide eyes. “Has he done his accents for you? He’s wonderful.”

“My favorite was the old Jewish man ordering a bagel with schmear. Priceless,” my dad said laughing. “They taught you well at the Portland Actors Conservatory.”

I furrowed my brow in confusion. When had my father had an opportunity to discover where Perry went to school? EvenI,his fake girlfriend, didn’t think to ask. The only reason I even knew where Will went to school was because the first thing fellow lawyers asked each other, after where they practiced, was where they got their Juris Doctorate. While I continued to contemplate how many rounds of twenty questions my parents had time to ask Perry during my forty-minute run, Perry answered, “Thank you. I like to think I’m a triple threat since I can sing, act, and dance. I’ve been compared to Matthew Morrison.” He beamed proudly.

“You’re better looking than him. You know who Perry looks like, Sidney?” Before I could respond, my mom said, “Zac Efron. Nowhe’sa hottie.” Then she blushed, something I hadn’t seen her do since…ever.

“You’re so sweet, Barbara,” Perry said, lightly tapping my mother’s hand. “I just need a guardian angel to toss some fairy dust over my head and give me some of his luck.”

My dad shook his head sympathetically. “You need a good agent is what you need. Let me ask around the office.” His eyes lit up. “Actually, there are several people coming tomorrow you should meet.” Turning to my mom, he said, “Doesn’t Marshall work for Take 3 Talent now?”

A finger to her chin in contemplation, my mom said, “I think so—”

When Perry opened his mouth to respond, I realized this conversation could go on for hours if I didn’t do something. Batting my lashes at him while simultaneously running my fingers along his defined bicep, I said, “Maybe we should take our showers so we have enough time at the mall. It’s going to be packed with eleventh-hour shoppers.”

Perry said, “Sure” and rose from the table.

“Perry probably needs less time to get ready than you. Why don’t you go on and we’ll keep him occupied?” my dad said to me while motioning for Perry to sit back down.

“Great idea, Harvey,” Perry said, returning to his seat. “Give me a shout when you’re about thirty minutes out and I’ll come up. I want to hear more about this Marshall dude first. You really think he’d talk to me?” he asked my father.

With a boisterous laugh, my dad said, “It’s my party. He has no choice.”

“This is great.” Standing up again, Perry pulled me into a hug so tight, I could smell the fresh, sweet scent of his laundry detergent. It smelled like Robyn, and I wondered if she did his wash with a bird resting on her shoulder. Separating from me, he said, “I’m having the best time. I’m so glad you asked me.”

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