No One Knows Us Here(47)

She was older than my mother had been by at least twenty years, but that was no surprise. My mom, if she’d been alive today, would be forty. Ten years older than Leo. Like her son, Leo’s mom had dark curly hair and piercing blue eyes. Unlike Leo, she wore glasses.

Leo lifted the cake from the counter and positioned it in front of the mirror. “We used your recipe, Ma.”

It all happened so quickly, I didn’t have time to react. If I had, I would have tiptoed out before Leo had a chance to pull me in by the arm. Within seconds we were cheek to cheek, huddled in front of the mirror.

“Ma,” he said, “meet Rosemary. Rosemary, my mother, Christine.”

“Call me Chris,” his mom said. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

My mouth stretched open in the imitation of a smile. Breezy and natural was what I was going for. I looked like a wild animal baring its fangs at an approaching enemy. “Hi!” I managed to squeak out. Speaking helped my facial muscles fall back into place. My expression softened into something a little more pleasant.

Christine told me she couldn’t wait to meet me in person, that I had made her son so happy these last few months.

“Wow.” My cheeks turned pink. It wasn’t a bad thing. Blushing made me appear youthful and shy, just the way a young woman should act upon meeting her boyfriend’s mom for the first time. That’s what I told myself anyway.

“You even dress the same,” she said. “You’re made for each other.”

Leo kissed me on the cheek. “We’re just chilling for the weekend,” he said. “Best birthday present I could ask for.”

Once the call ended, Leo turned to face me, his eyes bright. He held up both hands in the air again for me to slap. He was very into high fives. We slapped palms. “Whoo!” he said, as if talking to his mother had injected him with adrenaline.

I wanted to scold him, to tell him it wasn’t cool to spring his mother on me like that. I needed time to prepare, to think about putting my best face forward. I had a general rule about wearing matching outfits when meeting a boyfriend’s parents for the first time, especially when the outfit involved a navy-blue hoodie.

“She seems nice,” I said once we had settled over on his couch.

“The best.”

“Look, Leo—”

He held up his hands. “I know, I know. I should have given you a heads-up.” I relaxed. Exactly. He got it. “But this is what we talked about, right? A few months go by, and we tell everyone we’re together. You’ve been at Lookinglass long enough now, we just fell for each other, started dating, blah blah blah. I told my mom all about you. And now I can meet your friends, your family. Your sister—”

“No!”

Leo stopped talking and widened his eyes. “We discussed this—” he said.

“No, Leo.” I was breaking one of his rules—never talk about The Project. I didn’t care. “Not my sister.” I paused, not sure how far I was willing to take this. “Not my friends, either.” I braced myself for his reaction.

His eyes narrowed at me, and he shook his head slowly, like a disappointed parent. “Rosemary.” His voice was steady. Calm. “This is supposed to look like a normal—”

I placed a hand on his arm. “I just want to keep you to myself. Is that so wrong?”

Leo muttered something I couldn’t understand.

“Can I be completely honest with you, Leo?” My voice soft. Vulnerable.

“Of course.” Leo sat up straighter, held both of my hands in his.

“I want my sister to be proud of me, you know? She thinks I got this great job at Lookinglass, that I can afford my amazing apartment all on my own. . . . I can’t tell her that I started dating my boss.” This was pretty good. Leo was nodding. He bought it. Maybe because it was the truth. “And my friends. Most of them are from work—from my old job.” I lowered my eyes. “I guess I just wanted them to think I’d moved on, done something with my life. If they saw us together—”

“I get it,” Leo said. “I do.”

I flashed Leo my most seductive smile and caressed his cheek with my hand. “I knew you would.”

We kissed. It was a soft kiss. I pulled back, and we looked at each other. He kissed me again, harder. Objectively speaking, he was a good kisser. Confident. Lips firm, tongue insistent. Not sloppy. It wasn’t as if I enjoyed kissing him—but the person I was pretending to be had no complaints.

I grabbed a fistful of his hoodie and pulled him closer to me, and then I reached under his clothes. The skin on his back was warm, and softer than I had expected. He moaned and sent a string of kisses down my neck. I threw my head back to give him better access.

My fingers ran along the edge of his waistband.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, pushing me back into the cushions.

He was on top of me, pressing against me. He wanted me. This was obvious. I tried to pull down his sweatpants, but our bodies were fused together too tightly. The pants wouldn’t budge more than an inch. Finally, it was happening. After all this time doubting my ability to perform this job to Leo’s satisfaction, I got overzealous.

I reached under the waistband and grabbed hold of his butt.

He reared back. He sat on his haunches on the couch and stared down at me. He was making no effort to disguise his erection, visible through the material of his knitted loungewear.