Page 73 of Once Upon a Lie

“You could stay here,” Mom offers.

“And triple my commute?” I shake my head. “I appreciate it, Mom. But no, thank you.”

Dad mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like stubborn, but he lets it go. It’s a surprising gift from a very bullheaded man, and I don’t look the horse in the mouth for fear it’ll disappear.

The table goes quiet for a few peaceful moments until Leo clears his throat. “So, Teeny,” he says, leaning toward me, “I was wondering if you might want to grab dinner this week. Just us.”

Oh, hell’s bells.

I force a polite smile to my lips. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Dad’s fork pauses. “Why not?”

I know I’m going to have to be honest to win this one because with Tommy Cordone, you don’t win the odds of a long shot twice.

“I’m sort of . . . seeing someone,” I say instead of giving the details. I’ve kissed someone else I think about every minute of the day, and the idea of going out with Leonidas makes me feel tired.

Still, the table freezes.

Nico’s head snaps up. “You’re what?”

“Sort of seeing someone,” I repeat.

Dad’s brow furrows. “Who?”

I shake my head. “Not happening.”

Nico leans forward. “Teeny.”

“No. I’m not giving you his name. I’m sorry, but that’s where I draw the line.” These two would have background checks on him and God only knows what else within the freaking hour. Shane does not deserve that kind of scrutiny—not before we’re even officially anything.

Dad exhales, his face ruddy. “Is he respectable?”

“Yes.” I sigh. “He’s a new guy from my building,” I answer. “He’s actually the one who saved me from getting seriously injured in the helicopter incident.”

My dad groans.

Nico’s eyes narrow. “What does he do?”

I shrug. “Odds and ends. Kind of like a Mr. Fix It.”

“Mr. Fucking Fix It?” Nico questions. “Are you serious right now, Teeny?”

I sigh. “Don’t be an asshole. He’s nice.”

“I’m not being an asshole,” Nico refutes. “I’m being concerned.”

“Well, stop being concerned, because there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

Across the table, my dad watches with growing suspicion. I don’t dare feed into it by looking directly into the light of his sun.

The timing isn’t great, but when Magnolia Connect lights up my screen of my phone in my lap, I can’t help but sneak a peek under the tablecloth.

Rita Fortune: ​​1807, why did you leave your gym cleanup duties until the last minute? I’d already done my inspection and written out the violation ticket when I discovered you’d gone behind me.​​

Shane (Unit: 1807): ​​I work better under pressure, Rita. It’s a whole thing.​​

I choke on a laugh but cover by taking a bite of the lasagna and immediately switch over to my text thread with Shane.