“Gosh, I’ve been talking so much about myself that I haven’t even gotten to ask you any questions,” I say to Mrs. Grayson, clasping my hands on the table. “I am dying to know what Sammy was like as a little boy. He did mention being very late to potty training.”

“I did no such—”

“He told you that?” Mr. and Mrs. Grayson exchange a deep laugh, and now it’s my turn to feel claws digging into my thigh. “He must really like you,” Mr. Grayson adds.

“I know it’s still early,” I say with a happy sigh, retrieving Salem’s grasping hand and twining it with mine on the table in their full view, “but we really are serious about each other. As I’m sure he’s told you.”

The beginning of a snort sounds from Sabrina’s direction, and she quickly covers her nose and mouth in a bad imitation of a sneeze. “Bless you.” I nod serenely in my future sister-in-law’s direction.

“Oh, Sammy hasn’t told us nearly enough,” says Mrs. Grayson, and I’m pretty sure she’s looking at my ring finger, trying to figure out my size. “Just that—”

“—we met in English on the first day,” Salem fills in, squeezing my hand hard enough to break bones, and I realize I’m not to let on to his parents that I live in Rumson. “And that we started studying together every night—”

“We do study together every night,” I confirm with a bob of my head. “He takes studying so seriously. But you of course already know that.”

“We, er, didn’t until now,” says Mr. Grayson, rubbing a hand over his dark, close-cropped hair, “but it sounds like Camden’s been really wonderful for him. I don’t know if he told you, but he was a bit of a troublemaker back home.”

“Oh, yes, he did tell me.” I rest a head on his shoulder, knowing full well he’s getting a mouthful of curls. “So hard to imagine, when he’s such a good boy here.”

“Stop making me sound like a puppy,” he growls into my ear.

“Oh, you are in no position to make demands,” I remind him through gritted teeth.

We all shut up for another speech, and then they bring out the main course, which is a buffet that actually smells pretty good. But when Salem’s parents get up to take food, I tell them we’ll be there in a minute, finally seeing an opportunity to get some answers.

“Okay, you have like one minute to explain this to me before your mom definitely comes back here and grabs us to make sure we’re eating well enough,” I hiss. “And you know I’m serious because I’m not even having us dwell on how hilarious it is that your parents call you Sammy.”

“I knew this was a mistake,” Salem tells Sabrina with narrowed eyes.