Page 47 of Masquerade Mistake
Ethan sets a glass of milk down for each of us before sitting, then grabs a container.
“Dig in,” he says. Finn looks at me again, his eyes wide. I usually plate his food for him. But this time, I hand him a container, not even sure what’s inside.
“Make sure you leave some for the rest of us,” I say. Finn can’t hide his grin as he works at the top of the container. It tears a little, and some sauce spills on the table, but I pretend not to notice. I’m too busy trying not to get all sappy over seeing Finn’s walls come down.
By the time we’re all done, Finn’s plate is full of sweet and sour pork with a little bit of white rice and an egg roll. He skipped the broccoli and beef, but I also see he’s eyeing it with intrigue. I wonder if he’s thinking of the broccoli I made him last night. I want to urge him to try a little, but then think better of it. He’s swinging his feet. He’s happy. I’m not going to ruin the moment by momming him.
“Have you ever played ‘What’s your favorite’?” Ethan asks me.
“No,” I say slowly. “What is that?”
“It’s easy. One of us asks a question, like ‘What’s your favorite dinosaur,’ and then everyone takes turns answering it. I’ll go first with that question. What’s your favorite dinosaur?”
“I don’t really know my Dinos–”
“Velociraptor,” Finn pipes in.
“Wow, good one,” Ethan says. “I’m going to have to go with the Psittacosaurus.”
“Oh dude, I was going to say that!” Finn says. And I smother my smile at his use of the word dude.
“You just made that up,” I say to Ethan. He pulls out his phone and starts typing. Then he holds it out to me. Sure enough, there’s the Psittacosaurus, which looks like a cross between a parrot and a lizard.
“You really don’t know your dinosaurs?” Ethan asks.
“I know a few,” I say. “I wouldn’t say I have a favorite though.”
“Pick one.”
I mull it over for a moment. “Brontosaurus?” I say meekly.
“Solid. All right Finn, your turn to ask.”
“What’s your favorite…” He tilts his head, trying to think. His eyes gravitate towards the cars on the counter again, and I’m certain that’s what he’s going to say. But instead he blurts out “TV show.”
I name Outlander, and both Finn and Ethan groan. I laugh, then nudge Finn. “How do you know about that show? I never watch it when you’re awake.”
“Because you and Aunt Maren are always drooling about it,” he says. He turns to Ethan. “And I like Jesse Starr.” This time, it’s my turn to groan.
“That good, huh?” Ethan says.
“That bad.” It’s a show about some kid who became a rock star at a young age and goes on all these totally unbelievable adventures—probably because he’s filthy rich. It always ends with him on stage singing some cheesy song. But Finn loves it and sings along to it whenever it’s on. “It’s total trash,” I say.
“Hey!” Finn says. But he’s smiling.
“Well, I like football. Does that count as a TV show?”
Finn nods. “I like football too,” he says. He gives a quick glance to me, then ducks his head to eat more food. The kid has never watched a football game in his life, but I’m not going to out him.
“Your turn, Claire,” Ethan says. I look at him, and he gives me a wink. I can’t believe a silly game like this has totally opened Finn up.
“What’s your favorite vegetable?” I ask.
“None of them,” Finn shouts.
“Don’t yell,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Broccoli,” Ethan says, then takes a huge bite of the broccoli and beef, then chomps it with an open mouth. Finn giggles, then eyes the broccoli again. He still doesn’t take any.