Page 68 of The Plus Ones
“Hey, Dad. Want to see the view?”
“Of what? The boy?”
“Of Antigua.”
“Who?”
“Antigua. That’s where I am now.”
“Who are you there with?”
“Aimee and her husband. My friend Bernadette and her husband. And their…ourfriend Keaton.”
“Keaton? You’ve never mentioned a Keaton,” my mother says, swiping the phone from my dad.
“Keaton’s a grown man, and that’s his first name?” I hear my dad ask.
“Yes. He’s a grown man. It’s his first name.”
“Sounds like a Mr. Hoity Toity Pretty Boy to me.”
“He’s Chase’s best friend. I’m sure I’ve mentioned him.”
“Is Keatontheboy?” my mom asks.
“Did someone say my name?” Keaton practically croons, stepping out onto the veranda.
I shake my head and try to wave him away.
“Put him on! Put him on the Skype! Where is he?” my mom yells.
Keaton strides over to stand right behind me, smiling into the camera over my shoulder. Half of each of my parents’ faces are visible in the Skype window. “Good morning,” he says, turning on the charm. “You must be Roxy’s parents. I’m Keaton Bridges. Roxy’s boyfriend. It’s nice to Skype-meet you.”
My mother squeals, “I knew it!” and covers her mouth, and my instinct is to throw my phoneandKeaton over the railing.
“It’s a couples-only resort,” I explain, lowering my voice, “so Keaton and I have to pretend to be a couple and share a room. It’s a whole thing, not a big deal.”
“You’re pretending to be Roxy’s boyfriendandsharing a room with her?” my dad grunts. “Did you lose a bet?”
“I really feel like I’ve won the lottery,” Keaton says, hand on heart.
Both of my parents guffaw at that.
“Please tell me there are two bathrooms!” my mom says.
“Actually, she’s really started to pick up after herself.” He pats me on the back. “She’s a very considerate roommate.”
“Really?” my mom asks. “Is she really? You’re not just saying that? Because we couldn’t wait to get her out of the house.”
“So far I’ve found her to be very accommodating. And a great card player.” He winks at them. Winks. At my parents.
“Oh, were you the one? Clever boy.” My mom winks back at him.
Jesus.
“Who are you? The card game police? Thanks for blowing the lid off our parenting tricks,” my dad mutters with a smirk. “You tell her about Santa Clause too?”
“I told her he won’t be visiting this year if she doesn’t tidy up her side of the bathroom counter.”
