The Magnolia Chronicles: Adventures in Modern Dating(10)

"Hi," I replied, attempting to force a million apologies into that lame greeting.

"I'm Troy," he continued. "I didn't realize this was a family dinner and I thought, well"—he ran a hand down his face—"I thought you'd know about this. I thought I'd been talking to you. I'm sorry. This wasn't, I mean, it's not—"

"It's not your fault," I interrupted with more patience than I currently owned. "That's a fair assumption." I shot a mildly enraged glance at my mother before smiling at Troy. "Would you give us a minute?" I didn't wait for a response, instead yanking my mother into the hall bathroom and slamming the door behind us. "What the hell is going on?"

My mother seized this opportunity to tuck my hair behind my ears and rub a saliva-wet thumb over my chin. "I saw Troy on one of the apps and I liked his profile. He seemed like a good catch."

I rolled my hand in front of me, wanting more information. "Based on…what, exactly?"

She lifted a shoulder and then turned her attention to picking invisible things off my shirt. "Nice photos, nice bio, nice job. He likes dogs too."

"What does he do?" I asked.

"Real estate developer. He does very well for himself," she said with the type of self-satisfied head bob that told me I'd have to thank her for this injustice later.

"It's Sunday dinner," I started, "and you didn't mention we'd be having any guests today. Don't you think I would've pulled myself together a bit more if I'd known there was a dude coming to dinner?"

She glanced down at my tunic and leggings and then fingered the unwashed ends of my hair. "You're beautiful and perfect the way you are." She licked her thumb and ran it over my brows. "If he doesn't love you with a scraggly pedicure, then he's not the one."

I swallowed a sigh. "But I don't reveal the scraggly pedicure until date four or five, Mom. It's kind of like seeing each other first thing in the morning or acknowledging that everyone poops. It's not getting-to-know-you material."

She brought her hands to my shoulders with a tight smile. "Let's mix that schedule up a bit, shall we? Worst-case scenario, your brothers arm wrestle over the guy's name and he runs off like his hair's on fire."

"It would be awesome if there was something between respecting my schedule and my surprise date running from our home with his hair on fire." I gave her a manic grin. That I wasn't screaming at her was a victory. "So awesome."

"It's good to want," she replied with a shrug.

"So help me," I said, wagging a finger at her, "if I come for dinner someday to discover I'm a contestant on The Bachelor, I will put you in an old folks' home when the time comes. Maybe sooner."

"You'd miss me too much." My mother opened the bathroom door and gestured to the hallway. "Come on, now. Let's not leave Tiberius—"

"Troy," I interrupted.

"Whatever," she murmured. "Let's not leave him out to dry. Your brothers, they can be real a-holes when they want to be."

"Speaking of which," I said, stopping outside the dining room. "You're welcome to direct any of this matchmaking energy toward them."

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "They're young for their age. They're not ready for anything serious. But you—you're ready."

With that, she shoved me into the dining room.

"Hi," I said to him, drawing the word out into eight syllables as I planned my next move. I'd greeted the guy at least forty times now but what else was I supposed to do here? I exchanged a glance with Ash and Linden as I sat down beside Troy. They offered little more than innocent shrugs and shit-eating smirks in response. "How's it going?"

My date shifted toward me, smiling, and made a reasonable attempt at giving me a once-over without leering. Ten points to Gryffindor.

"Great, great," he breathed. "Sorry about the confusion. I thought—I guess, I didn't know—"

I held up both hands. "It's fine. Not your fault. Not at all. You have no reason to apologize." I pinned my mother with a harsh glare. "She knows what she did."

"Hush, you," my mother chided. "If nothing else, Trevor—"

"Troy," we chorused.

"—will get a home-cooked supper tonight. Young people don't get enough stick-to-your-ribs meals anymore. Not with all the delivery food and celery juice and chia seeds."

"Okay. Yeah. That's great," Troy said. "Great."

"Everything is great," Ash added from across the table. If the evening continued at this pace, I was going to strain my eyes with all this glaring. "Really great. The greatest."

I shot him a stare before turning back to Troy. "So, Troy," I started, "thank you for joining us today. I hope your family doesn't mind that we've stolen you from them for the evening."

"No worries," he said, laughing. "My parents live in Montana."

"That must make the Sunday dinner commute a lot longer," Linden said.

"Assuming you're beholden to a Sunday dinner routine," Ash added. "Clearly, we are, but we realize this might not be your way of life."