Chapter 18

I hated being a third wheel.

It wasn’t really by anyone’s choosing, but since I wasn’t in the wedding party and everyone else I knew was, I spent a lot of time at the rehearsal dinner hanging out on my own. Or for the most awkward moments of the night, hanging out with Simon’s date, Melia. Exotic, lovely Melia who was totally rocking a high-waist, black pencil skirt and killer red heels. I watched Simon and Melia from the opposite end of the large private dining room the Hamiltons had rented for the dinner and tried to convince myself the burning in my chest wasn’t jealousy. Because I had no right to feel jealous. Not even a little.

“How long have they been dating?” I asked Jamie about halfway through the dessert course.

“This is the first I’ve heard of her,” Jamie told me. “So it can’t be long. He says she’s a grad student at Duke.”

“I guess it’s good to see he’s moved on from Karen.”

“I’m not so sure. Feels a little rushed to me. He asked me not to make a big deal about it though, so he must really like the girl.”

My stomach tightened. “You think?”

“He texted me and Dave both and asked us to lay off the teasing. That’s got to mean he likes her, right? And doesn’t want us to embarrass him.”

“Huh.” So I guess that cleared up one potentially awkward conversation in my future. No reason to even think about talking to Simon now. “Did you talk to your mom about Thanksgiving?”

Jamie nodded. “That I did. Don’t worry. She was cool about it. I’m all yours for the entire holiday weekend.”

I smiled. Make that two things to strike off my worry list.

* * *

The next night at the reception, I found myself sitting alone with Simon. Jamie was off talking to an old high school friend, and Melia, whom he’d brought along to the reception as well, was . . . somewhere else. I didn’t look around to find her.

“How are things at the inn?” Simon asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Still up in the air. It’s officially on the market, so we’re just waiting at this point to see if it gets any interest.”

“I think I saw you in the garden last week. Talking to Ida?”

“Really?”

“I can see the garden from my front porch.”

“Oh. You should have waved.”

“It looked like a pretty serious conversation.”

I shrugged. “She was just telling me all the reasons she’s decided to sell. And I’m glad she did. It helps me understand her side of things.”

“You definitely sound a lot more at peace about everything.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far. I’m still totally stressed about who the new owners might be.”

“That’s understandable. I don’t think you have any reason to worry though. Winding Way is a great property. You’ll get a good buyer. I’m sure of it.”

“Thanks. You know, I used to play in the gardens at Winding Way all the time as a kid.”

“Really?”

I nodded. “The rose garden was my favorite. I’d crawl over the south garden wall with my books and read for hours in the big tree that shades the bench. I finished a lot of books in that garden.”

“What did you read?”

“What books?”

He nodded.

“Normal little-girl stuff. Little House on the Prairie. Nancy Drew mysteries. Anne of Green Gables. Want to hear something funny though?”

“Of course.”

“I always carried one of my dad’s old books with me whenever I went to my tree. It was the book he was reading when he met my mother, so I figured if I was going to meet my prince, it’d be good luck to have it with me.”

“Dare I ask what the book was?”

I sighed a happy sigh. “Gabriel García Márquez. A Hundred Years of Solitude. It was an original print edition, in Spanish even. You want to hear the story?”

He leaned forward, his elbow on the table. “More than anything.”

“Okay. Here’s how it happened. My dad first met my mom through a mutual friend and was really impressed. He knew she was from Puerto Rico, so to impress her, he found a novel written in Spanish at a used bookshop and took it to the library. He sat a few tables over from where he knew she liked to study and just waited for her to show up and take notice. It took three days of him visiting that same table for his plan to work. When she did finally notice him sitting there, his nose buried in a Spanish novel, she immediately called him out, sure he didn’t speak a word of Spanish, much less read it. He admitted she was right, said he’d only been trying to impress her and get her attention, then he asked her to dinner. She accepted, and the rest is history.”

“You have to admire your father’s persistence.”

“He said he never doubted for a second. She was it. He just had to be patient enough for her to figure it out too.”

“Did you read the book when you carried it to your tree?” Simon asked. I loved that he called it “my tree,” just like I had. “A Thousand Years of Solitude is some pretty heavy reading for a little girl.”

“I didn’t. Not until I was much older. But now it’s one of my favorites. Because it’s brilliant but also because it’s a part of my history.”

“It’s one of my favorites too. I’ve never read it in Spanish though.”

“I’ve read both. Hard to say which I love more. The translation was beautifully done.”

“Do you still have it? Your dad’s book?”

I frowned, holding my hand to my heart. “Now we must tread carefully. This is hard, hard to speak of.”

“I’m not sure I want you to go on.”

“I left it on the subway in New York.”

“Oh! That’s painful.”

“It still kills me to think about it.”

“I can imagine. Did it bother your dad when you lost the book?”

“Not at all. He says the book was simply a means to an end and he’d rather hold on to Mom than some book. I think it was just my childish romantic brain that gave it significance.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think it was childish at all.”

I loved the way talking to Simon made me feel—like I was interesting and deep and . . . valued. But it was also making my head hurt. It seemed as though every time I felt convinced Simon wasn’t an issue, some conversation between us, some look or gesture would scramble my insides all over again, dashing my certainty into a thousand different pieces. It was exhausting.

Seconds later, Melia showed up at the table. She dropped a hand on Simon’s shoulder and made eye contact with me, a possessive gesture that made my insides burn. Seriously? After two dates, she was all protective and defensive?

“I guess I should go find Jamie,” I said pointedly.

Simon shot me a look, apology evident in his eyes. I gave my head a slight shake. It was fine. He was fine. Melia was fine. I was just fine.

* * *

Twice over the next couple of weeks, Jamie and I hung out with Simon and Melia. Both times, it was awkward.

Melia was . . . odd. When she wasn’t giving me the stink eye, which Katie insisted I was making up even though I’d caught it happening more than once, she was sweet. So sweet. But she didn’t get Simon. And none of us got her. She had to have a brain in her head since she’d gotten into graduate school at Duke, but it’s like she avoided all potential conversation that might require her to use it. It was the weirdest thing I’d ever seen. Even Jamie noticed. It became a game to see if we could get her to discuss what she was studying, but she somehow managed to shift the conversation away from herself and onto something else every single time. We half wondered if grad school was a cover story and she was really spending all her time at the nail salon. Her nails were always gorgeous. Perfectly manicured to match her outfits. Total craziness.

It was only out of respect for Simon that the rest of us kept our mouths shut. The only good thing that came out of their weird, mismatched relationship, at least the only good thing for me, was that Melia’s presence made it much easier for me to ignore my Simon-related doubts and focus on my relationship with Jamie. I was a terrible person for even thinking it, but with Simon shifting back to unavailable—to the untouchable Hamilton brother he’d been once before—it was so much easier for me to breathe.

* * *

Thanksgiving week, Jamie called while I was on my way home from work. “Hey,” he said. “How are you?”

“Totally stressed,” I told him. “The inn sold. Today. Just like that. They still have to finalize everything, but the offer was made and accepted, and the new owner is paying cash, so it’s going to go through really fast. Like before-Christmas fast.”

“Wow. Any idea what to expect?”

“I don’t know anything for sure. April did some digging, and if it’s who we think it is, it’s a company that owns a lot of hotels up and down the East Coast. Which is probably a good thing.”

“Winding Way is a great inn,” Jamie said. “It makes sense someone would want to capitalize on that.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Hey, are you home yet? Can you come over?”

I was seconds away from pulling into my driveway, but his place wasn’t that far away. “Sure. Is everything okay?”

“I just need to talk to you about something.”

“Should I be scared? Your voice sounds like maybe I should be scared.”

“Not scared. Well, not too scared. We’ll talk when you get here. Love you, bye.” He was gone before I had the chance to respond. I grumbled at my cell phone, then tossed it onto the seat beside me. Whatever he needed to talk about, I felt sure I wasn’t in the mood.

I found Jamie at his kitchen table, his laptop open in front of him, his phone pressed to his ear. It was weird walking through the house knowing he was the only one who still lived there. Dave had moved in with Katie after the wedding since she hadn’t been too keen about bunking up with her husband’s twin brother. With Cooper gone, that left the whole house just for Jamie.

He motioned me into the kitchen as he ended his call. I sat but kept my jacket on. He’d said scary news. I kinda felt like I needed an extra layer of protection. He put down the phone and looked at me, his face sheepish and sad. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Please don’t hate me.”

“Please don’t give me a reason to hate you.”

He took a deep breath. “I can’t go home with you this weekend.”

I stared. He was joking. He had to be joking. “Jamie. My eighty-four-year-old grandmother flew all the way from Puerto Rico so she could meet my boyfriend. You can’t not come.”

“I know that. And I’ve been on the phone for hours trying to figure out a way to still be there, but . . . Lane, there’s a guy coming from Japan. This is huge. We’ve been trying to break into the international market on our own for months, and Byron just made it happen. Set the meeting up, invited him out. And he’s coming. I can’t miss this.”

“Let Dave meet with him.”

“Dave and Katie are having Thanksgiving with her family—their first as a married couple. Plus, he can’t talk marketing like I can. He’s too . . . technical. This guy needs to be wooed. That’s what I’m good at.”

Ha. Yeah. That was the truth. “When’s the meeting?”

“Thursday morning.”

“Are you serious? On Thanksgiving?”

“It’s not a holiday in Japan.”

“But Byron was the one who set up the meeting! Does he not have any respect for your personal life? For your family?” I hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting Byron yet, but I’d already decided. He was not a man I expected to like.

“Lane, if it were any other meeting, you know I’d skip it. But at this stage, everything is so critical.”

I stood. “I really can’t talk to you right now.”

“Please don’t be upset.”

I spun around to face him. “Are you serious? Jamie, this has been on the calendar for weeks. It’s really important to me. Abuela probably won’t make the trip again, ever. And the main reason she’s coming is so she can see her grandchildren—see me—happy and settled. Do you know how many missionaries she’s given my phone number to? How many men she’s had call me, sure they were going to be the one to win my heart? In her mind, I am ancient and alone and will never get married unless she continues to intervene. This was my chance to show her I’m fine. I’m happy. And look, I have this amazing man who loves me and wants to take care of me.”

“I do love you.”

“Then come with me.”

He dropped his head into his hands. “I can’t, Lane. I’m so sorry.” Some small part of me knew this wasn’t entirely Jamie’s fault. There was a little bit of hero worship going on between Byron and him, which was expected considering the circumstances. It made sense, even if it was annoying, that Jamie would jump through Byron’s hoops. But this. This was big and hard, and I was having a difficult time wrapping my head around it. He’d been gone so much lately. This felt like one more way he was putting distance between us.

Suddenly, all the not knowing regarding our relationship felt like too much to handle. For the first time, I wondered if maybe Jamie was having doubts about us. Curse my overconfidence. I’d been dealing with my own doubts without even considering the possibility that maybe the reason we weren’t talking about his potential move was because he didn’t want to. “Can you please talk to me about California?” I blurted out.

He kept his eyes down, his jaw clenched.

“Jamie, it’s the giant elephant in the room, and it’s making me crazy. I feel like we’re trapped in this weird middle ground. Are you moving? Are you staying? Do you even want me to be a part of that decision? Right now you’re putting this business move before everything else. And I get that. But you have to start talking to me. I literally have no idea what to expect. It’s like a game of chance whether or not I’m going to get to see you from week to week. You’re here, then you’re gone. You’re spending Thanksgiving with me, then you’re not. It’s exhausting. And suddenly all I’m imagining is your doubt. Because if you didn’t have doubts, you’d be talking to me about this.”

He took a breath like he was going to speak, then huffed, shaking his head.

“What is it?” I said. “What are you not saying?”

“I don’t have doubts.” He held up his hands, palms up, a gesture of surrender. “I just haven’t wanted to push you. I didn’t want you to feel pressured to make this huge life decision before you were ready. Before we’re ready. Everyone says I’m impulsive, that I make decisions quick. I didn’t want to do that to you. I . . .” He shook his head. “I thought I’d scare you off.”

“What’s scary is wondering if your boyfriend isn’t talking to you about his plans because he’s not sure he wants you to be a part of them.”

“That’s not it. I promise, Lane.” He squared his shoulders. “Here’s the truth, all right? I’m going to California. For sure. It’s a done deal. And I don’t want to go without you. I’ve just had no clue how to tell you that. That’s big, you know? I didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on you this early on.”

“But, Jamie, you should have told me. As soon as you knew, we should have talked about it.” Even as I said the words, I felt the wisdom in his restraint. If he’d come to me six weeks earlier and said, “Hey, how about you move to California to be with me?” I’d have probably panicked.

He stood and crossed the kitchen to where I leaned against the counter. He took me by the arms, gently turning me so I faced him head-on. “You’re right. I should have told you sooner, and I’m sorry I didn’t. Can we talk about it now?”

I’d just told him it was what I wanted. To talk about it. But suddenly the whole conversation felt too overwhelming. There was no way I could adequately express everything that was going on inside my brain. All the doubt and worry over the past month—doubts about the depth of my relationship with Jamie, about moving, about potential feelings for Simon—had set the stage for a perfect storm of emotion. Mix in the disappointment of Jamie not coming home for Thanksgiving, and I was a complete mess. There was no way I could have any kind of objective conversation about California with my emotions already so churned up.

I pressed my forehead into the heels of my hands. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“You don’t want to talk about California right now?”

“About anything. Any of it. I think I just need some time to process.”

He nodded, though I could see the disappointment in his eyes. “Time to process. I’m not sure I know what that means.”

“I need to process! Make sense of what I’m feeling. And stop feeling so angry about you bailing on Thanksgiving. I’m just not in the right mind-set to talk about something as big as moving across the country.” It wasn’t the entire truth, but for the sake of our discussion, it had to be enough.

He took a step back. “Okay. I can respect that.”

I reached for my keys on the kitchen counter, where I’d dropped them on my way in. “I think I’m going to go.”

He ran his hands through his hair, his agitation clear. “Lane, wait.” He caught my hand and pulled me into a hug. I let him wrap his arms around me, but I didn’t hug back. I just stood there, my arms tucked between us, my cheek leaning against his chest. “You do know how sorry I am, right?”

I nodded. “I know.”

“I don’t want you to give up on us because of all this, okay? Thanksgiving stinks, I know, but I’ll make it up to you. I promise. And then we can look forward. Move forward. California would be great for us, Lane. I know it would.”

I shifted out of his arms. “I’m not giving up on anything. I just need a little time.”

His shoulders slumped, but he nodded his head. “I understand.”

“I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

Before I was even out of the kitchen, Simon appeared in the doorway. “Oh. Hey,” he said.

“Where’d you come from?” Jamie said. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I came in through the basement. Dave borrowed my tools before he moved out and never gave them back, so I dropped by to pick them up. What’s up with you?”

Jamie stood frozen, his hands resting on the table behind him, looking from me to Simon, then back to me again. I could almost see the wheels turning in his brain. Something was up.

“What is he doing?” Simon whispered to me.

“I have no idea.”

Jamie finally moved, a smile stretching wide across his face. “Lane. I think I just solved our problem.”

“What problem?” Simon asked.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” Jamie asked, his eyes boring into his brother.

“Me?” Simon asked. “Nothing. Going home, I think.”

“Want to go to Asheville instead?”

“Jamie, what are you doing?” I said.

He took a step forward. “It’s perfect. He goes to Thanksgiving with you and pretends to be your boyfriend. He meets Abuela, everyone is happy because Lane is happy, and then after the first of the year, you guys break up and you’re back with me.”

“Back up,” Simon said. “Why aren’t you going to Thanksgiving with Lane?”

“Because he’s going to California for a meeting with Byron.” I didn’t even try to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

“Seriously? On Thanksgiving?”

“I know. It stinks. But we can still fix this.” Jamie looked at me. “It’s not like I’m asking you to take a stranger. This is Simon. You guys are friends. It’ll be easy to pretend like you’re in love.”

I stood there frozen in one spot, paralyzed by Jamie’s words. I had to stop him. There was no way I could agree to Simon pretending to be my boyfriend for a single minute, much less an entire weekend. Like an old-school movie reel, my mind flashed through all the moments I’d ever shared with Simon. All the tiny sparks I’d felt between us, the looks, the conversations. It was like someone turned a mirror on my own life, bringing into sharp focus the fact that such a weekend could never happen. Instead of dousing sparks with water, an uninterrupted weekend with Simon had the potential to do the exact opposite. Granny Grace’s warning roared in my brain. You want to avoid trouble with the one brother? You stay far away from the other. But how could I explain that to Jamie? It was impossible. My mind started scrambling for other reasons—reasonable reasons—to thwart his plan.

Simon crossed his arms. “Jamie, it’s a bad idea.”

Good. At least he and I were on the same page.

“Why? It’ll totally work.”

“What about social media?” I asked. “There are pictures of us out there. How would we explain that?”

“Lane, you never post anything on social media. Your Facebook status still says single.”

“Are you serious?” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened Facebook to check.

“Yep. I just checked the other day. There are no photos of you and me together on Facebook, and if your mother is anything like mine, that’s all she uses.”

“Doesn’t Lane’s family already know your name?” Simon asked. “How would we explain her boyfriend suddenly becoming someone different?”

Jamie’s face fell. “That’s a good point.”

“Except . . . they don’t know your name.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. Why was I trying to help?

“You’ve never told them my name?” Jamie asked. My words couldn’t have done much to bolster his confidence.

“Well, no,” I said. “But you haven’t met my mother. Our relationship is complicated.”

He frowned.

“My brother knows your name, if that matters,” I added.

“That’s enough, then, right?” Simon said. “Your brother would know something was up.”

“Actually, John would probably help us pull it off if we needed him to.” What is happening? It was like my words were functioning independently of everything logical inside my head. “He gets it. He’s got the same family I do.”

“Then for sure we can make this work. If we’ve got a man on the inside, it’s a done deal,” Jamie said.

Finally, my brain managed to rein the rest of me in. “No. It’s not a done deal. I don’t want this. I don’t want to spend the entire holiday pretending.” As I said the words, my chest constricted, and my heart started to pound. Maybe my brain didn’t want to pretend. But my heart totally did.

“Lane, think about your abuela. Think about how disappointed you’ll be if you have to disappoint her.”

Abuela. Her last trip. Her failing health. Her anticipation and hope for my happiness.

I looked up at Simon. He looked . . . miserable. Like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. “I can’t ask that of Simon, Jamie. To give up his entire Thanksgiving weekend to play charades. It’s not fair.”

“But it’s more than that. He gets to spend the weekend with you, and, I mean, I know I’m biased, but you’re pretty amazing. What do you say?” he said, turning to his brother. “Will you do it?”

Simon took a breath and gave his head a slight shake like he was forcing off his misery. “If Lane is comfortable with it, I guess I’m willing.”

Talk about emotional whiplash. I knew taking Simon home for Thanksgiving was a bad idea. So why was I happy he’d agreed to do it? Never had I felt such discordance between my head and my heart.

“Will, um . . .” My voice cracked. I cleared my throat. “Will Melia care?”

Simon huffed out a laugh. “Ha. No. We aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

“What happened?” Jamie asked.

“You know how she’d never talk about grad school?”

“Yeah,” Jamie said. “We had a game going to see if we could get her to mention it.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice,” Simon said. “It drove me crazy. Not your trying, just the fact that she’d never say anything.”

“What was up with that?” Jamie asked.

“I called a guy. An old classmate. He works in the admissions office at Duke.” Simon shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. “She’s not enrolled.”

Jamie’s eyes went wide. “She made it all up?”

“All of it. She works in a nail salon in Carrboro.”

“I knew it!” I said. “I knew she couldn’t have perfect nails like that unless it was her job.”

“I don’t have anything against people who work in nail salons,” Simon said. “But I don’t like being lied to.”

“Poor Melia,” I said. “I hope she’s okay.”

“It all comes down to you, Lane,” Jamie said. “Melia isn’t a problem, and Simon’s willing. What do you say? Want to save Thanksgiving for your abuela?”

I held up my hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

* * *

I paced back and forth across Granny’s living room floor, worrying a pathway into her carpet. I’d tried to call Randi—she was much better for this type of thing—but she hadn’t answered, and I was desperate for a sounding board.

Granny sat on her sofa, her feet propped up on the coffee table with a pillow underneath, and listened while I walked her through the entire scheme. “Don’t you think your abuela would understand?” Granny said. “If you told her the truth?”

“Maybe. Probably. But she’d be so disappointed. And her health isn’t great. I don’t want to make things worse by making her sad.”

“I guess it’s good luck the man standing in is a man who’s caught your eye a time or two.”

I had known it wouldn’t take long for Granny to make that point. After all, she’d been the first to suspect there was something going on between Simon and me. At least, she’d suspected there was potential for it.

I made another pass in front of the sofa. “I’m trying not to think about that part,” I said.

“Child, you’re going to run holes in my rug if you don’t come sit down.”

I stopped my pacing and dropped onto the sofa beside her.

“Why aren’t you thinking about that part?” she asked. “With all the wondering you’ve done about Simon, maybe spending some time with him will help clear things up,” Granny said.

“I thought you told me to stay away from Simon. Brother relationships and family loyalty and all that.”

“I did say that. But you went and ignored my good advice, and now here we are. Better to make the most of the opportunity than to squelch it based on principle.”

I leaned in closer to Granny so I could put my head on her shoulder. “Granny, I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“That I might really like him. I don’t know what to do with that if I do. I really don’t think Simon would ever betray his brother. Not for me, not for anybody.”

She reached over and took my chin, tilting it upward until our eyes met. “You know what happened when your mama told me she was having a baby girl?”

I shook my head.

“I got down on my knees and said, ‘Lord, you better send some extra wisdom to old Grace. I got a feeling this one’s going to be a handful.’”

I laughed despite my effort not to. “You did not!”

“Listen to me, Lane. I’m about to give you some of that extra wisdom.”

I sat up, and she reached for my hand, holding it softly with her own. “You say Simon wouldn’t betray his brother, and I reckon you’re right about that. But what makes you so sure that if Simon loves his brother enough to sacrifice his own desires for Jamie’s happiness, that Jamie doesn’t love his brother the same way? You’ve heard me say it before, child. Sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. If you’re determined to go through with this, at least go with your heart open. See what happens. Sure, it’s a risk. But God knows you, and He knows those brothers too. You might be surprised, if you put a little more faith in Him, to see where that faith might lead.”

A tear spilled over, dripping down my cheek and onto her worn, weathered hand.

“You’re going to be all right, Lane. You just wait. It’ll all be just fine.”

Jamie: Anyone free to take me to the airport tomorrow morning? Lane’s got a work thing. So she can’t.

Dave: No can do. Katie and I will already be gone by then.

Simon: What time is your flight? I can take you if it’s before 10.

Jamie: Flight’s at 8:15, so that will work. What’s at 10?

Simon: That’s when Lane is picking me up.

Jamie: Oh, right. That.

Dave: Um, what? What for?

Jamie: I hate everything about this.

Simon: It was your idea. I feel no guilt.

Dave: About what? What is going on?

Jamie: I can’t go to Asheville with Lane, but her grandma is coming all the way from Puerto Rico to meet me.

Dave: So Simon is going instead?

Jamie: Pretending to be her boyfriend.

Dave: Oh, dude. This is so good. Simon and Lane. I love it.

Simon: Is it really that hard for you to imagine?

Dave: Yes. Yes, it is.

Jamie: Nobody imagine anything. It’s temporary.

Simon: I’ll take you to the airport in the morning.

Jamie: Thanks.

Simon: You’re welcome. And don’t worry. I’ll only kiss Lane twice a day.

Dave: Ha, ha.

Jamie: So help me, Simon . . .

Dave: I’m so sad Cooper is missing this.

Simon: Me too.

Jamie: I hate you both.