Page 46 of My Vampire Plus-One

“And you must be Reggie,” she said. She looked from me tohim and then back again, her smile growing. “I’m so glad you were able to join us on such short notice.”

Reggie plastered on a brilliant smile. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” he said. “Work is always busy this time of year, but when Amelia told me how important this event was to her, I knew I had to make room in my schedule for it.” And then, turning to Dad, he added, “Especially since Amelia told me there’d be an actual, living, breathing historian here. European history at the turn of the twentieth century, right?”

Boy, was he ever laying it on thick. Dad looked delighted. “In the flesh,” he said, happily. “Though I’m retired now.”

“I would love to chat with you sometime about your research. I’m a bit of a history buff myself.” And then, as if only just remembering I was still there, he turned to me and added, “Assuming that’s okay with you, of course.”

The idea that my dad might be chatting later with my fake boyfriend was mildly terrifying. But Dad was looking at me so expectantly I couldn’t help but smile. “Of course.”

“The kids never showed much interest in what their old dad did for work,” Dad explained.

Reggie looked sympathetic. “Their loss, I can assure you.” He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to my dad. “That’s my phone number. Feel free to reach out anytime you want me to debunk any of your theories.”

Dad laughed so hard I thought he might fall over. “Oh, you’re on, young man. I’ll call you as soon as this boring party is over.”

Mom shot him a withering look. “John.”

Dad made a point of fiddling with his drink. “Well, itisboring,” he muttered, before slinking away.

“So, Reggie,” Mom said, clearly eager to change the subject.“You mentioned something about work a moment ago. Work is busy for you this time of year, too?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “So busy.” He shook his head forlornly. “Always so much to do.”

Mom made a sympathetic noise. “Our Amelia works far too hard as well, which I’m sure you know.”

Reggie turned to look at me, his gaze softening into something that, if I hadn’t known this was an act, I could have believed was actual concern.

“She does,” he agreed. “She needs to be better at taking time for herself.”

He squeezed my hand, tracing invisible patterns on the back of it with his thumb.

God, he wasn’t kidding when he said he was good at pretending. My face flushed—whether it was from the unexpected gentleness of his words or the way he was caressing my hand, I didn’t know.

“I’ll start taking more time for myself as soon as tax season is over,” I said, by rote. It was the same thing I always trotted out whenever my family gave me grief over my long hours.

Mom and Reggie exchanged a knowing look.

“I wish I could believe you, hon,” Mom said, wistfully.

“I’ve heard this line from her so many times I’ve lost count,” Reggie agreed, shaking his head.

I glared at him. Unbelievable. Was he actually taking Mom’s side?

“Although it sounds like you work too hard, too,” Mom said to him, chiding. “Amelia told us you work in tech but didn’t go into details. What do you do?”

My heart sped up again. Suddenly, I regretted not pinningthis detail down with him more specifically and telling him he could get creative with the explanation.How wild did he plan to get with the ad-libbing?

I decided to intervene. “I told you, Mom. We met at the office, and—”

—at the exact same moment Reggie said, “I work at a carnival.”

The room vanished. Time stopped. My stomach plunged somewhere in the vicinity of my shoes. The only things that still existed in this frozen moment of time were my mother’s surprised expression, my mounting horror, and the complete stranger beside me who had just dropped the mother of all bombshells in the middle of Aunt Sue’s tastefully decorated living room.

The weight of Mom’s stare on me was so acute I could actually feel it. But my gaze was fixed on Reggie. His expression was carefree. Breezy. Like he hadn’t just said the most ridiculous thing in the world and completely deviated from the plan.

“A carnival?” Mom asked, recovering before I did. To her credit, her voice sounded only mildly strained. “You—you own a carnival?”

“Oh, no,” he said, shaking his head and chuckling. “I don’t own a carnival. I just work at one.”