Waiting for December, page 2
I look back up. “How long are you in town for?”
“Less than twenty-four hours,” he says. “The party is tonight. We land at four, I’ll be at my parents’ house by five. And I fly out at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“They didn’t have a red-eye?” I tease.
He laughs and I feel warm.
It would have been nice if he were staying longer so I’d have a friend to show me around. But I guess it’s a good thing he’s only in town for one night. I don’t think this is the kind of guy I could ever just be friends with.
He shifts and sets his arm on the armrest between us. I don’t mind that he does this. But the thing is, my arm is already resting there, so we’re sharing it now, which means we’re touching. And I feel his touch everywhere. Even in places I didn’t know it was possible to feel someone’s touch, like in the back of my throat and all the way down in my toes.
I take another long sip of my drink. So long that I almost finish it. “You’re right,” I say. “A gin and tonic in the sky does taste way better than on the ground.”
Sky smiles and takes a sip of his drink too. Then another. After he’s finished, he leans his head against his headrest again and closes his eyes. I take a little more time to finish my drink, but once I do, I close my eyes too.
As I start to drift off, I realize Sky hasn’t moved his arm.
I don’t move mine either.
—
When I wake, my head is on Sky’s shoulder. I must have really conked out because the flight attendant is announcing our descent.
Sky, on the other hand, is up and staring out the window. I’m surprised he let me sleep on him like this. All my life I’ve been told I’m not a pretty sleeper. I toss and turn, I drool, I often talk out loud.
When I sit up, I check for a drool stain on his shirt. Surprisingly, I don’t find one.
“You were so peaceful,” he says.
I’m about to tell him I don’t believe it, but I’m distracted by how not peaceful he looks. As nervous as he seemed when we were taking off, he looks ten times more stressed now that we’re about to land. I get the sense he didn’t sleep at all.
“I never asked. What town are you headed to? What inn?”
It takes me a second to register that he’s asked me a question. I’m too preoccupied feeling bad for him and wishing there were something I could do to help.
“Hudson Lane in Stowe,” I say.
My answer makes him look my way. “Stowe? That’s where I grew up, where I’m headed now.”
“Oh, wow.” I knew Vermont was small, but that coincidence sends a burst of heat through my stomach.
“Hudson Lane—it’s a nice place,” he nods, turning his gaze back out the window. “Nice couple that owns it too. Will you be staying there?”
“There’s a private cottage for me, but it’s not ready until tomorrow, so I’m staying at a hotel tonight.”
“Which one?” I don’t get the sense he really cares. I think he wants to make conversation so he doesn’t think about where he’s headed after this. My heart hurts for him. And then it gets an idea. An idea that it blurts out before consulting with my head.
“What if I join you tonight?”
That pulls Sky’s gaze away from the window. He’s looking right at me. “What do you mean?”
Too late to turn back now.
“You said it would be easier for you to face your family if you showed up with a wife or a girlfriend. What if I come along and pretend to be your plus one?”
He just stares. “You’d do that for me?” he finally asks.
Admittedly, I’m second-guessing the idea. I have from the moment I said it. I can’t get distracted by this guy. And pretending to be his girlfriend for a night is definitely not the best way to avoid that. But I can’t backtrack now. I’m the one who plunged ahead and proposed the entire thing. Besides, he’s leaving in the morning. How hard could I really fall for him in one night, anyway?
“I know what it’s like to be in a tough spot,” I say. “If I can help you out, I’d like to be able to do that.”
His smile is different now—bigger than when I saw it last and filled with relief.
“Thanks, Harper,” he says, clasping his hand over mine. “You have no idea how much this means to me. This might actually end up being an enjoyable evening.”
Or a dangerous one, I think, looking down at his hand on top of mine.
Either way, so far starting over is certainly interesting.
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.
