Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
Max
I've changed shirts three times in the past twenty minutes, which feels like a new personal record in pre-family-dinner anxiety. The blue button-down is too formal. The gray henley too casual. The black shirt too funeral-esque. I settle on a deep green that Lena once mentioned brings out my eyes, though I suspect no amount of favorable eye enhancement will soften Robert Carter's scrutiny tonight. The last time I sat at the Carters' dining table, I was playing the role of devoted boyfriend while secretly harboring genuine feelings. Now I'm genuinely devoted while officially playing a role for the Luminous Beauty contract. The layers of reality and performance have become so intertwined that sometimes even I lose track of what's what—but one thing is crystal clear: tonight isn't a performance. Tonight is about convincing Lena's family that what we have is real, that I'm worthy of her, that I won't hurt her again. And based on the text Lena just sent, I'm going to need all the favorable eye enhancement I can get.
Dad's making his signature old fashioned. You've been warned.
The buzzer rings, announcing Lena's arrival to pick me up. One last check in the mirror—hair reasonably tamed, shirt unwrinkled, expression hopefully not revealing the swarm of butterflies currently performing aerial maneuvers in my stomach—and I grab the bottle of wine I spent entirely too long selecting.
She's waiting in the car, looking effortlessly beautiful in a simple dress that manages to be both family-appropriate and distractingly flattering. Her smile when I slide into the passenger seat calms some of my nerves.
"You look like you're heading to your own execution," she observes, leaning over to kiss my cheek. "Relax. They don't actually bite."
"Your father might." I fasten my seatbelt as she pulls into traffic. "The last time I saw him, we were happily engaged as far as he knew. Now we're…what exactly? What have you told them?"
She navigates through an intersection before answering. "That we had some issues, took some time apart, and are now dating again—for real this time."
"And the fake relationship part? The contract?"
"I told them the truth—well, a version of it." She glances at me briefly. "That what started as a business arrangement developed into real feelings, but we hit a rough patch, and now we're building something authentic."
"You left out the bet," I guess, relieved when she nods.
"That's our business, not theirs." Her hand finds mine briefly before returning to the steering wheel. "Don't worry, Jess is firmly on Team Max. She's been singing your praises since the bar incident with Sophie."
"And your parents?"
Her slight hesitation speaks volumes. "They're…cautiously optimistic. They saw how hurt I was after we separated, so they're protective. But they trust my judgment."
"Mostly," I add, recognizing the careful phrasing.
"They just need to see us together, see how happy you make me. It'll be fine."
Her reassurance would be more convincing if she wasn't gripping the steering wheel like she's preparing for sudden evasive maneuvers. Still, the knowledge that she's defended our relationship to her family warms me. This isn't just about me proving myself to the Carters—it's about us presenting a united front.
The familiar Park Slope brownstone comes into view too quickly, stately and intimidating in the evening light. As we approach the front steps, I reach for Lena's hand, finding comfort in her solid presence beside me.
"Together?" I ask, echoing the word that's become something of a touchstone for us.
"Together," she confirms, squeezing my fingers before ringing the doorbell.
Diana Carter opens the door, her smile polite but reserved as she takes in our joined hands. "Lena, darling." She embraces her daughter before turning to me. "Max. Welcome back."
The subtle emphasis on "back" isn't lost on me. I hand her the wine with what I hope is a winning smile. "Thank you for having me, Diana. I hope cabernet still works with dinner?"
"Perfect choice," she approves, though whether she means the wine or my recollection of her preference is unclear. "Come in, everyone's already here."
The living room feels more crowded than last time—not just Robert in his armchair and Jess with her fiancé Brian, but also an older couple I don't recognize and a teenage boy hunched over his phone in the corner.
"My sister and her husband," Diana explains, following my gaze. "And their son, Tyler. We're celebrating my sister's birthday."
Great. More people to witness my potential humiliation.
Jess spots us and immediately bounds over, embracing Lena before surprising me with a hug. "You guys look great together," she declares, loud enough for the entire room to hear. "Much happier than at that awful brunch when you were fighting."
I wince at the reminder of the disastrous brunch where I nearly exposed our arrangement, but Lena just laughs. "Subtle, Jess. Very subtle."
"Subtlety is overrated," her cousin replies with a wink. "Oh, and fair warning—we're doing game night after dinner. Dad insisted."
"Game night?" Lena groans. "The last time we did that, Uncle Phil didn't speak to Dad for three months."
"It'll be fine," Jess assures her. "Brian and I brought Cards Against Humanity as a backup if things get too tense with Trivial Pursuit."
Robert Carter approaches, drink in hand—presumably the warned-about old fashioned. "Max," he says, extending his hand. "Glad you could join us."
His grip is firm but not aggressive—a neutral greeting rather than the intimidation tactic I'd feared. "Thank you for having me, sir. It's good to see you again."
"Hmm." He studies me over the rim of his glass. "Lena tells me you're working on music again."
The fact that Lena has discussed this with her father catches me off guard. "Yes, a bit. Still bartending mainly, but I've been writing and playing some."
"He's being modest," Lena interjects, her hand at the small of my back. "He's incredible. You should hear the song he wrote?—"
"Later, maybe," I cut in, not quite ready to discuss my music with Robert Carter. "If there's a guitar around."
"Dinner's ready!" Diana announces from the doorway, saving me from further scrutiny.
As we move toward the dining room, Jess falls into step beside me. "Don't worry," she whispers. "Dad actually plays guitar too. It's a potential bonding point."
This new information is both helpful and terrifying. If Robert is a musician, he'll have actual standards for whatever I might play later.
Dinner proceeds more smoothly than I anticipated. The food is excellent, the conversation mostly centers on Jess and Brian's wedding plans, and Diana seems to have forgiven whatever transgressions she associates with me, warming slightly as the meal progresses. I contribute appropriately, compliment the food genuinely, and make sure Lena's water glass is always full—a habit from my bartending days that seems to score points with her mother.
Tyler, the teenage nephew, remains engrossed in his phone until Diana confiscates it, at which point he slouches in his chair with the aggrieved air of the mortally wounded. I catch his eye and offer a sympathetic smile, remembering how excruciating family dinners felt at his age.
"So, Max," Diana's sister Elizabeth says during dessert, "Lena tells us you were in a band that toured nationally? That sounds exciting."
"It was," I admit, feeling Lena's encouraging glance. "We opened for some bigger acts, got to see the country from a tour bus window. Not very glamorous, but definitely educational."
"And now you're…bartending?" There's no judgment in her tone, just curiosity.
"For now. I'm also working on some new material, considering my options." The answer feels more honest than it would have months ago, when my guitar gathered dust and music seemed firmly in my past.
"Max makes the best cocktails in Brooklyn," Lena adds loyally. "And he remembers everyone's preferences after hearing them once."
"A useful skill," Robert acknowledges, seeming to genuinely consider it. "Particularly for understanding people."
The observation surprises me with its insight. "I hadn't thought of it that way, but yes—it's about paying attention to details, to what makes each person unique."
"Like how Dad takes his bourbon with exactly two ice cubes, never more or less," Lena says with a smile. "Or how Mom pretends to prefer white wine at events but actually loves a good cabernet at home."
"Details matter," I agree, meeting Robert's assessing gaze. "Especially about the people who matter to you."
Something shifts in his expression—not quite approval, but perhaps the beginnings of reassessment. The moment passes quickly as Diana stands to clear the dessert plates.
"Game time!" Jess announces with enthusiasm that borders on manic. "To the living room, everyone!"
The family migrates back to the living room, which has been rearranged to accommodate game play. The coffee table now bears a formidable-looking Trivial Pursuit board, cards stacked with military precision.
"Teams or individual?" Brian asks, clearly familiar with the Carter family game night protocol.
"Teams," Diana and Elizabeth say simultaneously.
"Individual," Robert counters at the same time.
A brief staring contest ensues between the siblings, which Diana apparently wins.
"Fine, teams," Robert concedes. "But no married couples together. It's too predictable."
"I'll take Max," Jess says immediately, linking her arm through mine. "We'll dominate the entertainment category."
"Then I want Lena," Brian counters. "For science and nature."
The teams form with surprising strategic calculation—clearly the Carters take their trivia seriously. I end up paired with Jess, while Lena joins Brian, Diana with Elizabeth, and Robert with a deeply unenthusiastic Tyler.
What follows can only be described as the most intensely competitive trivia game I've ever witnessed. The Carters play Trivial Pursuit with the focused determination of Olympic athletes. Robert's knowledge of history is encyclopedic. Diana can name European capitals with frightening precision. Even reluctant Tyler proves devastatingly accurate on technology questions.
Jess and I hold our own, primarily through my random knowledge of 70s rock music and her expertise in film trivia. When we correctly identify the chemical symbol for tungsten (W), Robert gives me an appraising look that feels like a minor victory.
"Literature for the win," Diana announces, drawing a card. "Name three of Shakespeare's history plays."
"Henry V, Richard III, and King John," I answer immediately, earning surprised looks from around the table. "What? I minored in English literature."
"Full of surprises," Robert mutters, though not unkindly.
The game grows increasingly animated. Diana accuses Robert of bending rules. Elizabeth disputes a science answer with the fervor of someone defending a doctoral thesis. Tyler actually puts down his contraband phone (somehow recovered from Diana) to argue about a sports question. Through it all, Lena watches me with barely concealed amusement, clearly enjoying my introduction to Carter family competitive dynamics.
The climax comes when a disputed answer about American presidents leads to Robert and Diana simultaneously reaching for the rulebook, knocking over a bowl of popcorn that cascades across the board, pieces scattering in all directions.
"Now look what you've done," Diana sighs, as if this is a regular occurrence.
"Me? You're the one who grabbed the rulebook when I clearly had it first."
"Perhaps it's time for Cards Against Humanity?" Brian suggests diplomatically, already reaching for his backpack.
The transition to the more irreverent game shifts the energy entirely. Suddenly Robert Carter, who I've only ever seen carefully controlled, is laughing until tears form at a particularly outrageous card combination. Diana reveals a surprisingly wicked sense of humor. Even sullen Tyler engages fully, his card selections earning shocked laughter from the adults.
I catch Lena watching her family with quiet joy, clearly relishing this less formal side of the Carters. When our eyes meet across the circle, her smile holds such warmth and gratitude that it makes my chest tight. This matters to her—me being here, fitting in with her family, seeing them as they really are beyond the polished exterior.
Later, as the evening winds down, I find myself alone with Robert in the kitchen, helping to load the dishwasher while the others debate one final round of games.
"Lena says you're playing music again because of her," he says without preamble, handing me a rinsed plate.
"She's right." I place the dish carefully in the rack. "She encouraged me when it was easier to just let it go."
"Why did you stop?" The question is direct but not confrontational.
I consider deflecting with my usual "creative differences" explanation, but something about the moment demands honesty. "Fear," I admit. "Of failure, of success, of not being good enough. Of being exposed as a fraud when more people were watching."
He nods slowly, understanding in his eyes. "I played in bands through college. Had some opportunities to pursue it further, but chose the corporate path instead."
"Do you regret it?" I ask, genuinely curious.
"Sometimes," he acknowledges. "But I found other ways to keep music in my life." He studies me for a moment. "Lena was hurt when you two…took your break."
The careful phrasing doesn't disguise the underlying message: You hurt my daughter.
"I know," I say, meeting his gaze directly. "And I'll regret that for a long time. But I'm committed to never making the same mistake again. To being honest with her, always."
"Good." He hands me the last glass. "Because despite her professional confidence, Lena has always been sensitive to betrayal. Particularly from people she cares about."
"I understand."
"I think you do." He dries his hands on a dish towel. "You should bring your guitar next time. My study has decent acoustics."
The invitation—both to play music and for a "next time"—feels significant. "I'd like that."
When we return to the living room, Lena's eyes find mine, a question in them. I give a small nod, and her subtle exhale of relief is visible. She crosses to my side as the family begins making departure preparations.
"Everything okay?" she asks quietly.
"Your dad invited me to bring my guitar next time," I tell her. "I think that's Carter-speak for conditional approval."
Her smile is radiant. "That's practically a formal adoption in this family."
As we say our goodbyes, the differences from my first visit are striking. Diana hugs me briefly, a gesture she didn't offer before. Robert's handshake is firm but now carries a hint of respect. Jess makes me promise to text her about potential bands for their wedding reception, while Brian enthusiastically discusses craft beer options for the rehearsal dinner.
In the car driving home, Lena reaches for my hand, lacing our fingers together on the console between us. "You survived Carter family game night. That's practically an Olympic sport."
"Your father is terrifyingly good at trivial pursuit," I observe. "And your mother's Cards Against Humanity selections have scarred me for life."
She laughs, the sound filling the car with warmth. "They liked you. The real you, not the performance version."
"I liked them too." I squeeze her hand gently. "Seeing you with them, how you fit into that family pattern while still being your own person…it's nice."
"They're not always easy, but they're mine." She glances at me, something soft in her expression. "And now, a little bit yours too."
The simple statement catches me off guard with its impact. A little bit yours too. The idea of belonging to Lena's world, not just as her fake-turned-real boyfriend but as someone connected to her family, her history, her future…it's overwhelming in the best possible way.
"I'd like that," I say finally. "Being a little bit part of your family."
"Good." She returns her attention to the road, but her smile remains. "Because I have a feeling they're not letting you go easily. Especially now that Jess has claimed you for the entertainment category."
As we drive through nighttime Brooklyn, the comfortable silence between us feels significant—like we've crossed another threshold together, integrated another piece of our lives, built another layer of foundation for whatever we're becoming.
And for the first time, I allow myself to think beyond our careful "one day at a time" approach, to imagine a future where family dinners and game nights are regular occurrences, where Robert and I discuss music in his study, where Lena and I build something lasting from the strangest of beginnings.
Where I belong, a little bit, to the Carters. And completely, wholly, to Lena.