Chapter 8
Vic walked through the door at 7:30 p.m. on the dot.
He was in a surprisingly good mood, and when I tried to talk to him about Austen, he waved it away. “It’s taken care off. And I’m starving. What should we have for dinner?”
“Actually, Lee and Grant are coming for dinner.” Not that a quiet dinner at home didn’t sound more appealing, but Vic needed to know about his mother, and I couldn’t tell him by myself.
“No way we can get out of it?” He gave a teasing tug to one of my belt loops and smiled. “Just this once.”
A night spent in bed sounded even better. “I’m not going to be the one to break it to Lee.”
Vic followed me upstairs, ignoring his mother’s call from her place in front of the TV, instead asking me about where Jonathan was hiding—he was somewhere, but I had no idea
