Page 120 of Not Fooling Anyone

“They also teach French here,” I comment, helping myself to the spaghetti.

Jordan frowns at her, and she glances around the table, her face dropping. Finally realized the hole she dug herself in, huh? If she keeps this up, she’ll have hung her own noose by the end of the night. For someone going into PR, she doesn’t have the best grasp on what should come out of her mouth.

The rest of dinner plays out in a similar fashion, with awkward moments galore. My personal favorite is when it comes up that Savannah didn’t realize Jordan was a freshman and younger than her. What’d she think earlier today when she found out Ethan was his brother? That Jordan was the older one?

I offer to collect the plates when dinner is over, placing them near the sink as Ethan’s mom retrieves a delectable looking chocolate cake from the fridge and a container of vanilla bean ice cream from the freezer.

“Who’s hungry for dessert?” she asks, grabbing a set of dishes from the cabinet and serving up massive slices topped with two scoops of ice cream.

I return to my seat, thanking her as she sets a plate in front of me. There’s no way I can eat all this after that huge meal.

She hands a bigger portion to Ethan, who eyes it warily.

“You sure you should eat that?” I ask him. He already had a ton of garlic bread with his spaghetti, and hardly any salad.

“What, because of his boxing match tomorrow?” his mom asks, bringing another two plates over for Jordan and Savannah, now awkwardly avoiding each other’s eye. Hmm. Maybe their relationship won’t be lasting much longer.

“Well, yeah, that. And because he’s diabetic.”

Everyone at the table goes still, Scott and his dad’s side conversation going silent as all eyes turn to me.

What did I say?

I glance at Ethan, whose face has gone pale.

Oh, God. I messed up, didn’t I?

“He’s what?” Ethan’s dad asks in a low voice.

His mom shakes the ice cream scoop she’s holding, white droplets flinging on the table. “That’s why you were going to see a specialist.”

“Wait,” Jordan says, shaking his head. “You have diabetes? And you told her before us?”

Scott’s brows pinch together as he looks at Ethan like he’s a stranger. On his other side, Savannah appears delighted that I started drama.

Jacob’s the only one who doesn’t particularly seem to mind, scooping a bite of cake and ice cream in his mouth.

Everyone starts talking over each other then, a chaotic cacophony asking questions, demanding answers, growing louder until Ethan shouts, “Enough!”

He looks around the table, his face no longer pale but flushed. With anger? Embarrassment?

I’d give anything to rewind the last few minutes.

“I just got diagnosed and was going to tell you, but I hadn’t done it yet. Lexie found out by accident. I wasn’t telling her over you all. Let’s talk about it another time when we don’t have guests.”

It’s silent for a beat, until Jordan says, “We can’tnottalk about it.”

Ethan’s hands clench at his sides. “Fine. Then I’ll leave.”

He grabs my hand, and I scramble out of my chair to follow him, mumbling, “It was nice to meet you,” to the room at large before we’re past the kitchen, down the hallway, and out the front door, heading toward his SUV.

Agitation pours off him as he holds the passenger door open for me, but I don’t dare say anything, shame and regret waging a war inside me. There goes making a good impression in front of his family.

He gets in on the driver’s side, violence under his skin as he grips the steering wheel tight for a moment, knuckles white.

Oh, God. It’s going to be a long night.

CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE

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