two

“YOU DIDN’T TELL me you were bringing someone!”

Sky’s mom answered the door and looked right past Sky, the son she hasn’t seen in a year, to me. Sky mentioned it’s been that long since he’d been home on the forty-five minute car ride over. I don’t say anything, expecting her attention to shift back to Sky for a hello.

“Mom,” Sky says, but his mother’s eyes stay on me. “Right. Mom, meet my girlfriend, Harper. Harper, meet my—”

“Oh, honey!” I’m wrapped in a hug before Sky can finish his introduction.

I was noticed before Sky, and now I’m getting a hug before him. My heart fractures a little for him, and I have a feeling it’s going to be broken further over the next couple of hours. I feel even better about my decision to join him tonight. If Sky’s mom is this happy he brought someone home, maybe it’ll make the night easier. I try not to think about her reaction had he shown up alone—she still hasn’t really looked at him.

“Happy birthday!” I say, as she releases me. She doesn’t say thank you. She’s too busy eyeing me up and down.

“She’s so pretty,” she finally says, as if I’m not standing right here and as if that alone makes me A-okay in her book.

To be fair, a lot of people comment on my looks when they meet me. I was incredibly relieved that Sky didn’t mention anything about that when we met. I’ve always wanted people to see me for me, and my looks have nothing to do with who I am. They’re just something we’re born with. In the genetic lottery, I happened to get thick blonde hair, a petite frame, blue eyes, and symmetrical bone structure. I know that’s considered beautiful by a lot of people, and I’m not blind to that. But people tend to see that and ignore everything else about me. They make all sorts of assumptions about my personality and how likable I am. And that’s what gets to me. People don’t really bother to get to know me.

“You’re so pretty too,” I respond because even though I never know what to say to compliments on my looks, I’ve learned most people seem to enjoy hearing this about themselves. It’s also not a lie. Sky’s mom has the same green eyes and sandy blonde hair Sky does, which she’s pinned back for the party.

She also has a nice sense of style. She’s dressed rather chicly in black heels, a fitted ivory dress, and pearl earrings, making me feel understated in my flats, dark-washed jeans, and beige blouse—although I was pretty impressed I was able to put something semi-party-appropriate together considering that an hour ago I didn’t know my time in Vermont would include a seventieth birthday celebration with a fake boyfriend whose judgmental family I was going to have to impress.

Sky’s mom doesn’t seem to care what I’m wearing, though. She’s just happy I’m here. I know this because she tells me at least five times as she ushers me inside.

“We were all beginning to really worry about Sky,” she whispers, as Sky wheels our luggage in and my eyes sweep the living room, taking in the generously overstuffed couch and the silver birthday balloons beside it, as well as the crackling fire that’s loud but not loud enough to drown out the sound of the commotion coming from the back of the house where I assume everyone else is gathered.

“He spends his time gallivanting around the world completely shunning the notion of settling down. Not that you two are settling down. But at least he’s brought you home, which suggests he’s thinking about it. He’s thirty-six years old. He should be thinking about marriage and a family, don’t you think?”

I shoot a glance over my shoulder. Sky is pretending he hasn’t heard anything, but his mom was talking loud enough that I know she wanted him to hear her. She got her wish.

“His independence was actually one of the things I was most attracted to,” I say. “I like that he knows himself well enough to know what he wants, even if it isn’t what society thinks he should want.”

I realize I’m treading a fine line between starting a fight with his mother and standing up for Sky. But that’s what a good girlfriend would do, right? It’s also how I feel, and I think it will be easier to pretend to be his girlfriend tonight if I’m as honest as I can be.

Fortunately, this doesn’t seem to piss her off. There’s also a chance she didn’t hear me because she’s busy calling out that Sky and “his girlfriend” are here.

Sky heard what I said, though. “Thank you,” he whispers, coming up beside me and slipping his hand through mine as if holding hands is something we do all the time.

Surprisingly, it feels that natural. I swallow, because while that might be a good thing for the show we’re putting on, it’s definitely not a good thing that I like it as much as I do.

The room fills with people, and Sky’s mom starts showing me off as if I’m a shiny new toy Sky brought just for her. Technically, I was brought with her in mind, and with everyone else in his family in mind—which, by the way, is a lot of people. Sky and I should have done flash cards or something on the way here because theoretically I should be able to tell one sibling from the next and know the names of their spouses and children. I’m sweating by the time I get to the silver-haired man in the corner, but at least he’s easy to identify: this must be Sky’s dad.

I hold out my hand. “Nice to meet you Mr. . . .” I begin, but my voice falters.

I don’t know Sky’s last name. His girlfriend would know his last name.

“Babe,” Sky says, coming up behind me and wrapping an arm around my waist. “I’m sure he wants you to call him Cal.”

“Of course, please call me Cal,” his dad says.

I nod, trying to commit it to memory, but I’m not sure it’s going to stick because I’m preoccupied by the fact that Sky just called me babe.

I’ve never had a guy call me a pet name before. I didn’t think I would like it. I do like it. Or maybe I just like it because Sky used it.

“Are my eyes deceiving me or is my knucklehead of a son finally getting his life together?”

Did Cal seriously just say that? I guess his name did stick. And that might not be a good thing since I’m tempted to use it in a not-so-nice sentence. Why is he making it seem like his son is returning from prison or rehab instead of from Atlanta where he has a full-time job and a full life he’s built for himself?

“Looks like it takes a milestone birthday to get you to leave Atlanta and grace us with your presence,” chimes in one of his sisters. I’m blanking on which. Two of them look near identical, with dark curly hair, and this is one of those two. I do remember the name of Sky’s blonde sister. It’s Andrea. Sky mentioned on the car ride here that she’s not as bad as everyone else because it took her the longest to meet someone and get married. She was given a hard time for a while because of this and understands to some extent what Sky has to deal with.

“I don’t know what you like about Atlanta, Sky,” Curly Haired Sister continues. “The crime rate is so much higher than here. Plus, it’s so crowded. And is a big city really a good place to raise children? You are planning on having children at some point, aren’t you?”

Sky circles his hand around mine. “I guess you never know what the future holds,” he says calmly, as if his family wasn’t just firing insults at him like bullets.

I doubt I would have responded with half as much class if our roles were reversed and this were my family. It makes me respect him, and when his eyes meet mine, I can’t help but smile. He smiles back and reaches up with his free hand, gently brushing my hair off my cheek and tucking it back behind my ear as if it’s a maneuver he’s done a million times.

“As for why I like Atlanta,” he says, circling back to his sister’s first question, “I can think of one damn good reason it’s got a hold on me.”

Holy shit.

Sky is one good actor. And he’s turning me into Actress of the Year because I don’t even have to act when he delivers that line. My body just reacts to his comment the way it would if we really were in love. My heart has taken off racing so fast it feels as if it’s trying to run right into Sky’s arms—or into another room where Sky and I can be alone, without the rest of his family. And then my lips get a mind of their own and plant a kiss right on Sky’s cheek. They want more, but fortunately my actual mind jumps in and puts a stop to that.

“Excuse us,” Sky says, pulling me by the hand into the kitchen. He breaks out into a wide grin when the door swings shut behind us.

“Wow,” I say. “Are you sure piloting is your true calling, not acting?”

He laughs and casually hops up on the counter as if he hadn’t just managed to convince his family and me that we’re head over heels for each other, while covertly telling them to go to hell.

“Are you thinking about planning an escape yet?” he asks.

I laugh as I hop up beside him. “Surprisingly not.” Although I should, I think. I already like him.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to fake a stomachache.”

“I could if you want me to,” I say. “Then you could pretend to have to take care of me. They’re a lot, Sky.”

“I told you,” he says, sitting back on his hands and letting out a deep exhale. “My last name is Alder, by the way,” he offers. “If that comes up again.”

I’m about to ask him to refresh me on his sisters’ names when his mom barges in.

“Mrs. Alder,” I say, winking at Sky as I hop down from the counter, “can I help you with anything?”

“Darling, call me Maryann, please. And yes, you can start by bringing this cheese platter into the living room.” She pulls it out of the fridge and hands it to me, then snaps her fingers at Sky. “Off the counter, honey. That might fly in your apartment, but not in this household. Speaking of your apartment, please tell me you’re at least considering moving into a house. Even Drake Evans has a house now, Sky.”

Maryann turns to me. “Drake Evans was a high school dropout. Now he is married to a wonderful gal and has a kid in addition to a house. His mother is in my bridge club, so every week I hear Suzy Evans go on and on about Drake’s fabulous accomplishments, and I feel like I have to lie to her when she asks me about Sky’s whereabouts.”

“You could just be honest and tell her I’m happy,” Sky offers.

Maryann looks to me as if she’s expecting my sympathy. I’m not sure why. At this point, the only thing I want to give this woman is my middle finger.

I lean in toward Sky while Maryann turns away to retrieve something from the pantry. “I might not have to fake that stomachache,” I whisper.

He laughs. “Code word is vanilla.”

“What?” I raise a brow.

“If I need you to pretend to be sick, the code word I’ll use is vanilla.”

“Why vanilla?”

He gives me a mischievous grin. Yet another of his smiles for me to catalog. And, not that I’m ranking them or anything, but if I were, this particular one would be my current favorite. “It’s the scent of your perfume,” he whispers. “I like it. Actually, I more than like it. It kind of drives me crazy.”

I look from Sky to his mom, then back at Sky. Maryann is not within earshot and seems quite distracted by her search for serving bowls. So this was just a conversation between the two of us. Meaning Sky didn’t need to pretend to flirt with me. He just was flirting with me. Because he wanted to.

Yep. I should probably excuse myself right now. Otherwise, I might start flirting back.

But I don’t.

“Vanilla,” I repeat. “Got it.”

—

I spend the next half hour or so in the kitchen sipping red wine while I help Maryann and Sky’s sisters get dinner ready. The men are in the living room watching football and drinking beer. I find it odd that it’s Maryann’s birthday and she’s having to make her own birthday dinner. But traditional gender roles are clearly present in this household, which I suppose isn’t all that surprising, given what I know about Sky’s family so far.

The only person who isn’t doing what’s expected of him is Sky.

As I carry two bottles of wine into the dining room, I spy him sitting on the floor with the kids, letting the girls put clips in his hair and—in between beauty treatments—wrestling with the boys. The kids clearly love him, and the feeling appears to be mutual. Watching him interact with all six of his nieces and nephews, ranging in age from two to eight, might be the cutest thing I’ve seen in a while.

The kids’ laughter is also a nice auditory break from the gossip I’ve been listening to in the kitchen. It’s been a while since I’ve been around women who have so much to say about their supposed “friends” that they could fill an entire issue of US Weekly with stories. No wonder they’re up in Sky’s business all the time. They seem to enjoy bad-mouthing others.

I’m grateful once dinner is served and I’m by Sky’s side again.

“Everything good, babe?” Sky asks, as the food is passed around the table.

There’s the pet name again. I still like it.

“Everything’s great, babe,” I say, trying it out myself. I like that too. Dammit.

“So, Harper, Sky, how did you two meet?” Cal is looking at us from one head of the table, and I immediately look at Sky because—crap!—we didn’t rehearse our story. I’m not sure why not, since of course we knew this question was coming. It’s the most asked question a new couple gets.

I contemplate mentioning a dating app, although it’s been a while since I’ve been single, and I’m not sure which ones are still in existence. I suppose I could also say we met through a mutual friend, but then I’d need to make up a person and come up with another lie.

As I’m filtering through more ideas, Sky rests his hand on my knee and says, “We met on a plane.”

At least, I think that’s what he said. My entire focus shifted to his hand the moment he touched me. It’s burning my skin even through my jeans. It’s difficult to pay attention to anything else.

“She’s scared of flying, so I tried to calm her nerves by talking to her.”

The context clue lets me know he did say plane. An honest response. Why didn’t I think of that?

“Actually, that’s not entirely true,” he continues. I’m not sure why he does. His family collectively let out an “aww” after his last statement, meaning they bought it and were satisfied. It would have been easy to stop there.

“I didn’t realize until we started talking that she was nervous to fly. But I was so happy when I found out she was scared because I realized she’d probably want to continue talking to me. I knew I wanted to talk to her the second she walked on the plane. Actually, that’s not entirely true either. I saw her walking through airport security, and that’s when the thought first popped into my head.”

I set my hand on top of Sky’s, and ignoring the tingles in my palm, I squeeze. I’m trying to let him know he doesn’t need to take this act further. His family gets it. He wanted to talk to me. But he doesn’t take my cue. Or maybe he misinterprets it. Either way, he draws in a breath and continues.

“I had already gone through security and was about to walk to my flight, but then I saw her. There was something familiar about her, despite her being a stranger, and as I watched her smile at a security guard, I felt warmed by it, even though it wasn’t directed at me. In that moment, I didn’t care where my destination was anymore. I told myself that wherever that woman was headed, I might just have to buy a ticket.”

Okay, Sky. Tone it down. While it’s great acting, he doesn’t need to make up more stuff for us to remember.

“I kept trying to think of ways I could casually strike up a conversation with her—first as she was repacking her suitcase after a security check and then as she was buying a pack of Mentos at the Atlanta Made store. But then I lost sight of her. I couldn’t believe I lost sight of her.”

Wait, wait. I did have a security check. I did buy Mentos at Atlanta Made.

My heart starts pounding, and I turn toward Sky, hanging on to every word, along with the rest of the table.

“I was crushed,” he continues. “Because I knew I’d probably never be able to get her out of my head. So I’m sitting on the plane kicking myself, and then I see her walk on. And not only that, but she sits down right next to me. I was struggling to come up with an opening line, afraid I would say something stupid and blow my shot. She picked up on my nerves and asked me what I was so nervous about. I didn’t want to tell her I was nervous about talking to her, so I mentioned something else I was equally nervous about, and the conversation went from there. I realized after we shared a drink together that this must be what happens when your path is meant to cross with someone else’s. It just does. You don’t miss each other.”

I took an acting class in college. One of the lessons was on monologues. I remember the teacher telling us they’re hard to deliver because people tend to get bored easily, so to combat this, her advice was to speak as much as we could from the heart. That pops into my head now because that was definitely a monologue, and at no point was I bored, which makes me think Sky gave his heart a megaphone and let everything inside of it out.

It shouldn’t matter if Sky likes me. I’m not interested in developing anything—not feelings, not attraction, and definitely not the start of something.

The problem is my mind doesn’t seem to be falling for that denial anymore.

I’m still in my own head when I become aware of the silence and notice everyone looking at me as if they’re waiting for my response.

Oh, no.

For one, I can’t top that speech. And two, I don’t think I can even speak. Not for at least another solid minute. I’m still trying to catch my breath, to calm my racing heart.

I’d also prefer not to lay my feelings out in front of Sky’s family. I’d rather talk to him one-on-one. But as the silence stretches, with no one volunteering to end it, I decide that because I’m not going to see his family after this evening anyway, it doesn’t matter what they think of me. “I was actually disappointed when I met him,” I announce.

Out of my peripheral vision I see Sky turn his head toward me. I bet he wasn’t expecting me to say that. Well, I wasn’t expecting his speech either. Now that I think about it, I’m kind of mad at him for delivering it. I didn’t want to know all that. That wasn’t the plan here.

“I told myself I wasn’t going to open up my heart for at least three months,” I press on. “I had just gone through a big breakup, you see, and it was really important to me to spend some time alone, finding myself. But from the moment I sat down beside Sky on the plane, he started testing how committed I was to that. Just being near him tested that. And then we started talking and I was tested more. Against my better judgment I agreed to spend the rest of the evening with him once we landed, and he kept testing my resolve with every touch and every conversation.”

I realize now that it’s not Sky I’m mad at. He didn’t know this part of my story until now, so he couldn’t have realized his speech would bother me. I’m upset with the lesson I seem to just now be learning: It’s pretty hard—if not downright impossible—to control your heart.

I know this is a strange moment for Jake to cross my mind, but he does, because it strikes me that this must have been how he felt around Anna. The realization makes me forgive him a little bit more, because chemistry like this is hard to fight. I didn’t realize how hard until now; I didn’t know chemistry as strong as this even existed until a couple of hours ago. Jake and I had a version of this, but not this.

“And now, here we are.” I wrap things up just as Sky’s hand finds my knee again under the table. This time he seems to be passing along a silent apology. Ironically, this only makes me like him more, because now I can add considerate to his list of attractive qualities.

“Harper?”

“Hm?” I’m nervous to look up from my plate and meet Sky’s eyes, knowing they’re going to pull me right in. Can’t Sky’s family start passing the food around again? Or change the subject? Heck, I’d take listening to them bad-mouth anyone—including me—right now if it would break the silence.

Sky says my name again but whispers it this time. His voice is so soft it lures me into looking up. I feel my face heat at the intensity I find there.

“Is it just me or are you picking up some hints of vanilla in the wine?” he whispers next.

“Vanilla?” I repeat. Oh! We’re back to acting. Thank God!

I take my napkin off my lap and set it on the table. “You know, I think I need some air.”

It doesn’t occur to me until after I get up from the table and hear Sky do the same that he didn’t use the code word to get away from his family. He used it because he wants to continue this conversation somewhere where it’s just the two of us.

Just the two of us.

That has a dangerous ring to it if you ask me.