Page 46 of Masquerade Mistake
I’m not sure what I was expecting from him in all of this. I’d sprung the news on Finn on our way home from the carnival, which was strike number one. He was tired and crashing from the corndogs and soda I caved and let him have, and he took the news like I’d told him I was taking away the television. Then he had normal questions, like what we were having for dinner (I don’t know), and what Ethan looked like (he’s tall with dark hair like yours).
But then came the harder question.
How did you meet him? (He’s a friend of Maren’s—which was kind of true)
And, of course, why Ethan had to come over in the first place.
“Go put your cars away and wash up for dinner,” I say when I see Ethan’s car pull up to the sidewalk. Finn glances outside, then groans.
“Why is he coming here?” he asks for the millionth time in a row.
“Because I’m selling him all of your cars, and your racetrack too.”
Finn rolls his eyes at me, but I see the glimmer of a smirk before he scoots away from the table.
I open the door before Ethan walks up, then shut it behind me. His hands are full, including a bouquet of dahlias for me. My favorite. I take them out of his hand, then stand on tiptoe to brush my lips against his.
“Warning, the kid is onto us,” I say.
“Oh?”
“Oh. I think he knows our friendship is different than the one I share with Maren, and he’s determined to hate you.”
Ethan laughs, then lifts one of the bags he’s carrying. I peek inside, then nod approvingly when I see a few packages of model cars. Finn doesn’t own any of these ones, another sign at how perceptive Ethan is. Still, I know my kid. Even new cars won’t break through his stubbornness.
“If he’s ungrateful or rude, I apologize in advance.”
Ethan leans down and kisses me again. “Don’t,” he says. “I’m the stranger on his turf. I have to earn his respect.”
“He’s six,” I remind him.
“And he’s been the only male here for six years,” Ethan shoots back. “Until he knows he can trust me, I’m a threat. Let him figure this out for himself.”
I start to protest, but he shakes his head.
“Do you trust me?” he asks.
“If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”
“Right. And how long did that take?”
I smile. Then I grab one of his bags.
“Point taken,” I say, then lead him into the house.
Finn is nowhere to be seen, but I can feel his presence close by as I clip the flowers and arrange them in a vase. He’s probably in his room with his ears turned up.
“So, what’s for dinner?” I ask Ethan, starting to pull down plates. He nudges me away from the cabinets.
“Nothing healthy,” he says, which I gathered from the enticing smells coming from the bags. He nods his head at the table. “Go sit. I’ll dish up.”
He sets down plates and silverware for all of us, then starts pulling boxes from the bag. My mouth waters when I realize it’s Chinese food, even more as the smells get stronger. I’m about to call Finn, but when I turn my head, I see him lingering by the kitchen door. I smile, beckoning him in.
“Finn, this is Ethan,” I say. Finn doesn’t say anything. He comes closer, and I can see he’s itching to lean into me. But something changes in his face. Determination. Maybe defiance. He juts his chin out and sits at the table.
“S’up, Dude,” Ethan says, nodding his head at Finn. And that’s all he does. He doesn’t give him any special attention. Doesn’t call him “Little Buddy.” Doesn’t do anything other than a head check, and then goes back to pulling the last of the boxes out of the bag.
I’m a different story, internally unraveling just seeing the two of them together. If I had any doubts before, they’ve evaporated now that Finn and Ethan are breathing the same air. I hold my breath, wondering if Ethan notices his own eyes looking back at him—or rather, avoiding him. Finn is doing his best to pretend Ethan isn’t there, though I see him sneaking peeks when Ethan’s back is turned. Then Finn zeroes in on the cars lying on the counter. He looks at me, and I can see the question eating at him. Are they mine? But he doesn’t ask it.