Page 38 of The Boyfriend Swap

“Anyway, I vowed not to worry about it until January.” I glanced inside Will’s basket. “What do you have in there?” I could tell it was a DVD but not what the title was.

Kicking the basket behind him and out of my sight, Will said, “Nosy much?”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want to know anyway. Just making polite conversation.” I pretended I didn’t notice the upturn of Will’s lips as he stared me down.

“I’ll show you if you want.”

“Never mind. I’ve lost interest.” My lips twitched and I changed my answer. “Okay.”

Will grinned wide. “You’re so easy,” he said before his cheeks turned pink. Then he reached down and placed the DVD on the table in front of us.

I narrowed my eyes. “The complete series ofHow I Met Your Mother. Why the secrecy?”

“No reason except I like teasing you.”

“Nice.” I smirked. “We should probably get back to shopping, huh?” I motioned toward my basket, empty aside from the picture frame for James.

Will nodded. “I’ll pay for mine now since I actually need to check out a few more stores. How about we meet in front of Toys ‘R’ Us in…” He glanced at his watch. “Is an hour enough time?”

Since he hadn’t mentioned needing to buy anything before, I had my suspicions he was itching for alone time—possibly to call Sidney—and I swallowed back my disappointment. Then again, I wanted to buy him a gift and didn’t know how I’d manage to keep it a surprise if he was glued to my side. This break would give me the opportunity I needed. I’d call Perry too. I feared I was enjoying my time with Will entirely too much. I was counting on the sound of Perry’s voice and a few sweet nothings exchanged between us to remind me of what was real and what was pretend. “Perfect. Just text me if you need more time.”

Chapter 10

Sidney

By the time the sun set on Christmas Eve, the temperature had dropped into the twenties, but my mother was too proud of her outdoor living room to let frigid weather deter her from showing it off. Instead, heating lamps surrounded the closed-off area and papier-mache lighting fixtures hung from the wrought aluminum ceiling. Feeling victorious to the bone, I waved a lazy hand at Perry across the space and gave him a smug grin. I was certain no one else on the patio could read into my smile as anything more than a woman beaming happiness in her boyfriend’s direction. But we both knew the truth—I had won the evening’s battle. Actually, “won” lacked the oomph required to describe what I’d accomplished. I had killed it.

After Perry stormed out of Starbucks, I spent the next hour conducting research and devising a plan to obtain the upper hand for our client, an agent attempting to keep an A-list actor locked into a contract. The agreement was not set to expire for another two years, but the actor was trying to get out prematurely. After I shared my notes with my father, he was way too busy to focus on Perry. And my mom was so occupied with the caterers, she didn’t have time to drool over him either.

From where he sat on a white wicker sofa, my dad said, “We are golden.” He continued to flip through the black binder of articles I had pulled for him from various gossip magazines regarding the actor’s extracurricular activities, which could potentially support a claim of breach of contract. He placed the binder on one of the many crafted wood coffee tables decorating the room. “Your research and strategic points are the perfect ammunition. You’re a genius, JB.”

I chose to ignore his use of the grating nickname. “That’s why you pay me the big bucks,” I said, while glancing over at Perry, who was holding court with my father’s sister and sisters-in-law. For a moment, I wondered what Perry had said to make my aunts laugh so robustly, but I quickly lost interest. As long as they weren’t laughing at my expense, who cared? I turned back to my dad, who was now typing furiously into his phone.

Sensing me watching him, he said, “I’m emailing opposing counsel now—the schmucky one.”

I scrunched my face. “The schmucky one?” As far as I was concerned, they were all schmucks. Mid-yawn, I looked over at Perry again. The ladies were now following him into the house—probably back to the damn piano. Even though I’d been in and out of my father’s home office most of the night aside from when we were eating dinner, Perry’s singing had traveled throughout the house. I’d heard him belting out “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” with my Great Aunt Ruth and “Do They Know It’s Christmas” with my Aunt Eileen and Uncle Gil, who were probably regaling him with stories of attending the Live Aid concert in 1985. My extended family’s endearment to him was annoying, but at least they wouldn’t have as frequent access to me later to harp on our “split.”

As my father continued to jabber on about how our adversaries wouldn’t know what hit them, my phone rang—Will. “Hi,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral so my father wouldn’t think I was flirting with another man while my boyfriend was organizing a sing-a-long with my kin less than a hundred feet away. “Hold on a second,” I said into the phone. To my father, I said, “I’m going to take this call.”

My dad whispered, “Is it work-related?”

“No.” I snapped my mouth shut. “I mean, yes.” Not knowing which answer was more likely to sidestep more questions from my father, I continued to stutter, “No, well, kind of.”

“Which is it?” My dad blinked at me in confusion before waving his hand in dismissal. “Never mind. Tell whoever it is you’ll call him back. Unless it’s a client.”

Turning my back on my father, I mumbled into the phone, “Can I call you back, Will?” Or maybe I’d initiate sexting instead. Our communication so far on this trip had been entirely too tame.

After he said “Yes,” I faced my father again.

“Who’s Will?” he asked.

From behind me, Perry asked, “Yeah, who’s Will?” before snaking an arm around my waist.

Even though my first instinct was to pull away, I knew leaning into his embrace made for a better show. In his current state, my father was blinded by work, but someone else might have been watching, and I didn’t want to raise suspicion. “I thought you were keeping my aunts busy,” I said with a high inflection to suggest I was happy to see him.

“I missed my girlfriend,” Perry responded, a little grin starting to curl its way around his mouth. “I thought we could do a duet. Maybe ‘Little Drummer Boy/Peace on Earth’ as a tribute to the late David Bowie. I know your voice isn’t great, but you can sing backup.”

“Who said my voice wasn’t great?” I asked.

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