Page 206 of Falling for You
‘I’ll set the table,’ Dad says, rubbing his hands together and pulling open our cutlery drawer.
‘Can I help?’ Nate says, swivelling round on the stool. ‘What can I do?’
I pick up my wine and shake my head. There is absolutely no way they will let Nate even raise a finger while he’s here.
‘Nothing!’ Dad says. ‘You are ourguest.’
I raise my eyebrows at Nate. ‘Just relax,’ I say. ‘They’re not going to let you do anything.’
‘I can’t just sit here and not help,’ Nate protests. ‘You’re already letting me crash your dinner.’
‘Why don’t you tell us about your experience in London so far?’ Dad says.
‘Well,’ Nate says. ‘To be honest, it didn’t really start until I met Annie.’
I nearly spit out my wine. I don’t dare look at Mum; she’s one shared glance away from bursting into a spritz of confetti.
‘Oh?’ Dad says, much cooler than Mum as he lays out the granite placemats, setting our brass cutlery down on the long, rectangular table.
‘Well,’ Nate says, turning back to me and smiling. ‘She made quite the first impression.’
‘Of course she did!’ Mum gushes, and it takes everything in me not to lean forward and thwack her.
‘Why’s that, then?’ Dad says innocently, and he sneaks in a wink towards me which makes me burn with embarrassment.
Mum pulls the lasagne out of the oven, her hands covered in the red gingham tea towel as a cloud of steam billows around her.
‘Well,’ Nate says, taking a sip of his wine. ‘For starters, she was dressed as a bat.’
Mum puts the lasagne on the table with a thud.
‘A bat?’ She turns to me. ‘Annie, were you in one of your costumes?’
I nod. ‘It was Halloween.’
‘Oh!’ Mum holds the tea towel to her chest. ‘In the bat costume? Gosh, that was afantasticoutfit. Wasn’t it, David?’
‘One of your best,’ Dad twinkles.
‘Have you seen any more of them?’ Mum gabbles. ‘Of Annie’s costumes? They are so brilliant.’
‘No,’ I say, grabbing Mum by the arm as she starts to scurry past me. ‘Mum, Nate doesn’t need to see every costume I’ve ever made.’
‘I’d love to.’
I’m about to give Nate a warning look when I realise that he’s smiling at Mum, and he looks like he’s genuinely enjoying himself. He’s not mocking me or cringing at how over the top my parents are; he wants to see.
‘Really,’ I protest. ‘Mum, it’s fine.’
‘How about we eat first?’ Dad says, popping the cork of another bottle of red wine.
‘Yes,’ Mum says, taking a deep breath as she walks back towards our dining table, but not before running her hand along Dad’s arm and giving the tips of his fingers a squeeze. They both sit down, and Nate and I follow.
Mum smiles at us both, her face glowing. ‘Let’s eat.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Nate
