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Just Go With It

Luke

When Father started on the first course, I lifted my spoon to signal to Sophia that it was time for us to enjoy our soup.

“I know you’ve most likely told the story more times than you can count,” Father started. “But tell us how you and Sophia met.”

I glanced at her, grateful that we’d nailed down this part of the story ahead of time.

“It’s not the most conventional way,” I said, glancing at Mother. Even though she ate her food, she still hadn’t looked up at any of us. “We met at a pub while she was on assignment in England.”

Mother clinked her spoon against the bottom of the bowl a little too loudly and let out a small disapproving sound.

Father glanced at her and then back to me, waving me on to continue.

I went on with the story that Sophia and I had fabricated. It was a version of the truth. Father wanted to know all the little details, and Sophia and I worked together to fill in the gaps. Between the two of us, we created a story that was fit for a romantic movie—not that I
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