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8

Alana

W hen I was given my own phone at thirteen, I was told that I couldn’t break big news via text. Even now, I had to either call or share big news in person.

Apparently, that rule did not apply to the adults who raised me because I knew the moment we pulled into the driveway that Mom knew that Liam and I had arrived back for the holidays as a couple. As far as I knew, Dad hadn’t made a single phone call.

But there Mom was, alongside Liam’s parents, looking like a kid waiting for Santa. Our moms’ heads were dipping down to try and see the ‘happy’ couple through the window. They weren’t going to see anything because we weren’t sitting together. I was riding shotgun and Liam was cramped in the back. I almost felt bad that he was back there. But then I remembered it was a lose-lose situation. He would have the front seat even further back than I did, and I would have had to do the journey with my knees under my chin no matter whose seat I sat behind.

Also, he had walked straight to the back seat, and I was not going to turn down legroom when it was handed to me. I think it might have been his silent thank you for the fact that I let him have the aisle seat for half the flight. My legs had been mad at me for sitting in the middle seat ever since and being able to stretch out a little in the car had made them a little happier.

“You told her then?” I mumbled to Dad, who at least had the humility to look sheepish as he pulled into the driveway.

“Were you planning on keeping it from her while you were here?” he asked, his tone light.

“No, I wasn’t, but I thought no big news over text?”

“Is that why you didn’t tell us before you got back?”

No, I didn’t tell you before I got back because Liam has been back in my life for hours, not weeks.

“Yes, that’s why,” I said with a surprising amount of conviction.

Dad nodded once and then stepped out of the car. As the driver’s side door closed, Liam and I were plunged into a tense silence.

“You good, Lenny?” I hated how that name sounded from his mouth. I hadn’t heard it in over a decade and I didn’t think I missed it, but maybe I did. It sounded like home. It was dangerous.

We were using each other as a means to an end for the next two weeks. That was it. I had to remember that before I fell too far.

“As good as I can be walking into this particular lion’s den,” I admitted.

“This will be fine, Len. We let them fawn over us for a minute, then we go to our separate houses, and you won’t have to see me again until tomorrow. Or maybe dinner time. Either way, it will be fine. ”

I laughed because even though I had no proof, I knew he was wrong. This was not going to be fine or over in a minute.

I was right.