Page 118 of Boyfriend of the Hour

Nathan ground his teeth, though he had known it would come to this. “Her name is Giovanna, although she goes by Joni. She’s a dancer, originally from the Bronx, who is currently bartending while she recovers from a recent injury to her knee.”

It didn’t seem adequate, this description of Joni. These were the things that might be listed on a brief bio, maybe a cover letter. But they were so unimportant when compared to all the traits he had learned about her over the past month.

But was he supposed to tell his parents about the way her green eyes changed from emerald to almost jade when she thought something was funny? Or the way her lips curved at the edges when she daydreamed, like she had a secret to share with only him? Would it even matter that she moved like a piece of art, had a laugh like a song, or had a way of making any person in the room feel like they had the most important voice in the world when she listened?

Or should he point out the obvious, which was that he was only able to notice these things in her and no one else because of his dangerously growing obsession with her?

And it was an obsession. He could admit that now to himself. To the point where he was taking three showers a day, regretting that he had ever given her bra back, and could not get thememory of the exact shape of her nipple against his tongue out of his mind.

While he was at it, maybe he should also mention that she wasn’t really his girlfriend, just a young woman desperate enough to play along in exchange for free rent and his help chasing away an ex. That he couldn’t bring himself to ask her if she actually liked kissing him of her own accord or if she was only doing it because others might see them and support their charade.

It was the truth. But that didn’t seem right anymore either.

His parents again traded looks, and this time, even he could tell they weren’t impressed.

“A dancer. Really?” His father almost looked bored by the idea. “I went out with a dancer once. When I was a nineteen-year-old grunt in the army, not a respected man of business.”

“You think she…might enjoy an event like the benefit?” his mother added. “A girl like her?”

Nathan frowned. “Why wouldn’t she?”

Radford rolled his eyes and grumbled something before taking another sip of coffee.

“Just that it might be a little…lonely for her with all these strange people,” Lillian said.

Nathan only blinked. “She won’t be lonely. She’ll be with me.”

“What about Charlotte Mueller?” his mother wondered far too nonchalantly. “Her mother is an absolute darling. Debbie joined the DAR last year, and you know she’s a dear friend. She said Charlotte’s enjoying her work with you, and she’s already attending the gala with the rest of your doctor friends. You would make the perfect escort. And don’t you remember how well you two got along when you were little?”

“Joniis my girlfriend,” Nathan said clearly. “She’s who I’m bringing, and she’s important to me. I’d like you to meet her.”

He found no trace of a lie in any of the statements.

“Nathaniel, there’s no need for that tone. I’m only trying to help.”

“Like he’d ever appreciate it,” Radford muttered.

“Radford, hush,” Lillian told him. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean by that?” Nathan figured his father should be happy. He was asking a direct question. “You’re here for the hospital gala.”

Lillian sighed and twirled a bit of her ashy blond hair between her fingers. “I mean, here without your brothers. Your father and I wanted to see you alone because we’re still worried about you, honey.”

Nathan frowned at the endearment, which was used multiple times now. His mother only used pet names like that when she had bad news to share. Or requests she knew he wouldn’t like.

Nathan remained quiet when the server appeared with their orders and waited patiently for his mother to explain, as he knew she would eventually.

“Look at him,” Radford finally said. He had set down the paper again to cut up a few bites of toast, cheese, ham, and egg. “Say something like that to anyone else, and they want to know why. They ask questions. They respond, for God’s sake. From him, it’s nothing.”

“Raddy, please,” Lillian chided. “He’s made progress. Not like when he was a child, you remember. He barely talked at all back then.”

“I’m also still here,” Nathan added shortly as he picked up his fork. He hated when they did that—talked about him like a zoo animal. “I’m just listening. You’re apparently still worried about some nonexistent issue with my social skills. I suppose you’d like to tell me why and what you’d like to do about it.”

Lillian took a large sip of her mimosa, looking a bit like she wished it were something stronger.

“Your father and I have decided…that it’s time for Isla to go back to North Carolina.”

Nathan froze, fork poised over the filet of grilled salmon, and looked up at his mother. He could have sworn she flinched. But only a little. “Say that again.”