by Skyla Madi
“What did you say your parents do?”
“They’re surgeons, but both of them come from lines of ‘old money’.”
I sit for a little while longer just looking at the beautiful structure. I’d wanted my father to design the lobby in Milan with traditional ‘light’ brick, but he didn’t like it. He’s insane. Light brick is astonishing.
I switch the car off and peer at Alix. She bites on the corner of her index fingernail… I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so nervous.
“Nervous?” I ask and she immediately drops her hand.
“Nope. Let’s go.”
She pushes open her door, climbs out and slams it shut. I cringe at the force. This car is not the kind of car you should slam doors on. It’s brand new and the doors work perfectly. Alix quickly turns around and opens her door.
“Sorry.” She says. “Slippery hands.”
She closes the door, properly this time and I exit the car to join her.
“What time does dinner start?”
She smiles innocently up at me. “Six forty-five.”
I glance down at my wrist and pull back the fabric to expose my watch. “You asked me to pick you up at seven.”
“I know.”
“It’s seven twenty-eight.”
Ignoring me and my confusion, Alix starts towards the four stairs that lead us onto the deck and right up to the huge double doors. I feel frazzled. I’m never late—for anything—and the fact I’m meeting her parents in order to make a good impression, being late doesn’t sit well with me.
Alix peers over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”
I jog forward a few steps to meet her and grab her wrist. She gasps as I tug her into me.
“You made us late on purpose?” I hiss, my voice barely above a whisper.
Her eyes flick between mine, her own confusion becoming visible in their dark depths.
“Relax. They’re never on time with dinner. I bet Mom is only just pulling it out of the oven.”
She tries to pull her arm back, but I don’t let go.
“That’s not the point, Alix. I’m never late—for anything.”
I hate being late. I can’t stand knowing someone is expecting me to be somewhere at a specific time and I’m not there. It makes me anxious and it makes me feel bad. I loathe feeling anxious and bad.
“I saved us from sitting around for an hour making small talk and doing nothing. You’ll thank me once you meet my parents.”
I squeeze her tighter—until her mouth begins to curve as she fights a smile.
“Quite the grip you’ve got there.” She adds. “I hope it’ll make an appearance tonight.”
Oh, how assumptious of her. “Suddenly, I’m not in the mood to do anything tonight.”
Her eyes thin and she presses forward. Her parents could be out on the deck right now and I’d have no idea. That’s how it is with Alix... she has an undeniable presence. Regardless of how irritating it can be.
“Why is impressing my parents so important to you—especially when you’re not going to see them again after tonight?”
I know what she’s implying. I hear it in her tone. She’s wondering if this meeting means more to me than I’m letting on. Maybe it does… maybe my heart is too invested in Alix, and meeting her parents is a big deal for me. Her face is close to mine—so close I know if I lean forward an inch, our lips will touch. The light breeze blows her perfume all around me and I’m afraid if I inhale her too deeply, it’ll completely intoxicate me.
“They’re not important to me.” Her stare flicks over my face, and I’m not sure what she’s looking for. “But you are important to me. I just wanted to get this right... for you.”
The words fall from my lips and I’m powerless to stop them. It’s dangerous, sharing words like this with a girl like Alix—a girl who probably doesn’t hold many things close to her heart. Redemption of a shitty one night stand is all she wants… she hasn’t said otherwise, not really. She implied it once, when she came to see me at the hotel late one night, but, for a woman who speaks without a filter, she’s sure remained tight lipped. I watch her as a myriad of emotions flicker over her features. Disbelief first and then complete and utter acceptance—maybe even a little relief. She opens her mouth to say something in return, but I crane my neck and swallow the distance between our lips. I don’t think I can handle a snarky comment right now. Not when I unexpectedly admitted my feelings for her. It wasn’t meant to be like this. It wasn’t even meant to happen. Two lunches, two dinners, and one intimate moment has become something I’m not ready to end. I can’t forget her… she’s fun and eccentric—arrogant and perky. She’s everything I’m not—everything that I’m lacking in life.
Alix is the rainbow after a month of storms.
Alix
His lips shoot an electric bolt down my spine and into the pit of my stomach. My nerves are frazzled as my body hits overdrive. I’ve never had a kiss like this. I’ve never had a kiss that zips to my toes and back up again, or one that zones out everyone and everything around me. I’ve never had the kiss you see in Nicholas Sparks’ movies… until now. I’m ready to completely fall away into it, until I hear the distinct sound of my mother clearing her throat. It’s a sound that washes away the electricity in my body and replaces it with uneasiness. Jesse snaps away from me and takes a minute step closer to my mother. He stutters a little, and I don’t even hide my smile as he glances desperately over his shoulder for help.
“Hey, you kissed me,” I tease as I climb the stairs and slip past him. “Hi, Mama.”
I kiss her on the cheek and hover close as her warm arms surround me. This is nice. The greeting is always nice.
“Do I need to get you a watch, Alixandra?” She asks, mid hug. “You know dinner starts at six forty-five.”
I roll my eyes at the use of my full name and pull back from her. “Did we miss dinner?”
She shakes her head and her short, caramel curls bounce against her narrow shoulders. “Luckily for you I’m running late. I’ve only just got the chicken out of the oven.”
Of course she has. I peer smugly at Jesse who waits a few steps behind me, but he ignores me. On purpose, too.
“This is your current love interest?” she asks as she leans to look around me.
My jaw tightens instinctively at the way she said ‘current love interest’, as though I’m not capable of keeping them for very long.
“This is Jesse,” I say, and right on cue, he extends his large hand to her.
Mom steps past me and slips her hand into Jesse’s. I watch him as he interacts with my mother. He is polite and elegant. Each smile is smooth and beautiful, not overbearing or nervous in anyway. He meets people all of the time and it’s evident. Naturally, Mom asks him to call her ‘Mrs. Andrews’ and he grins at me as he hears my last name being said aloud. I regret inviting him with each passing second my mother spends marveling over him. She tells him I’ve never brought home a man even close to the league that he is in. Naturally, he brushes all of her compliments off as if it were your average light conversation and boasts how it was he who had to convince me to give him a chance. Knowing it’s complete bullshit, I let him talk. Having my mother proud of me for something is better than nothing. When they’re finally finished with their initial conversation, Mom leads us inside.
The house is the same now as it was when I was a kid. Photo frames everywhere… most of the furniture is still brand new looking and still wrapped in plastic to prevent stains. To be honest, it kinda feels like a hospital and I hate hospitals.
She ushers us into the large dining room and the roast chicken still hasn’t been served. ‘Do I need to get you a watch, Alixandra?’ Yeah, right.
“Alixandra!” Dad cheers from his end of the table.
I note the empty wine glass by his plate. He’s only this cheerful when he’s had his fill of wine. I circle the table, give him a hug and introduce Jesse. Just like Mom, Dad immediately sucks him into conversation; o
nly his is about careers and money and how I need motivation to do something other than bartend. Honestly, I zone it out. I pull out my chair and just as I’m about to drop into it, a high, feminine voice calls my name and I’m forced to turn around.
Grace stands in the doorway in a pretty blush colored cocktail dress with her hands on her hips. “Fashionably late as always, Alix.”
Her long, chocolate brown hair swings around her elbows as she launches forward and pulls me into a hug. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her. Last time, she had caramel colored curls, just like Mom. Lucky for her, the chocolate suits her. I hug her back. Despite how much she pisses me off, or how jealous I am of her, she is my baby sister and I miss her a lot.
She holds me at arm’s length. “You look great.”
“You too.”
I don’t know what it is, but I’ve always felt stilted around my family… I’ve always felt different. Is that normal? I doubt it. Beside me, Jesse clears his throat and I take the opportunity to introduce him. Like everyone else here tonight, my dear sister goes all doe eyed as he speaks. His voice is even and smooth—professional. With some words, I hear the small hint of an accent he’s not trying hard enough to hide. Grace picks up on it instantly and questions him about it. From there, we move to our seats while Jesse explains that he was born in Australia, and had lived there until his early twenties. Then, he moved to the US to work with his father.
“A motivated man. I like it,” Dad comments. “Maybe it’ll rub off on you, Alix.”
Asshole. I open my mouth to voice my retort, but Jesse’s hand falls to my thigh and all words, thoughts and brain function cease.
“Have you given any thought toward going to college, Alix?” Grace chimes in as she sips at her wine. “What do you want to do?”
What do I want to do? I want to fucking read, work and have sex, then rinse and repeat.
“I’m doing what I want to do and I’m happy where I am,” I answer, proud of the complete detachment in my voice.
“But surely you don’t want to bartend all your life… what about a business degree? You could own your own bar.” Grace’s voice isn’t unkind or patronizing… but it irks me anyway. I don’t know how many times I need to have this conversation.
I open my mouth as Jesse’s fingers dig into my thigh, but it’s not enough to distract me this time. Sadly, I can’t keep my mouth shut. If I could, I would.
“Why do people always expect me to have such an amazing answer? Not everyone wants to be something. Not everyone wants to be a fucking astronaut or a doctor. Why isn’t ‘I just want to live a slow, easy life doing nothing special’ an appropriate answer? If everyone was a doctor or a scientist, there’d be no one left to clean your shit or pour your drink.”
Silence falls and I keep my eyes on Grace, but she refuses to look at me. On the back of my head, I can feel Dad’s judgmental eyes burning gigantic holes into my skull, but I know he cares too much about saving face to call me out in front of Jesse. Thankfully, Mom enters the room with her giant chicken in a dish just at the right time, but unfortunately, she’s not happy with me either. Go figure.
“Are you still swearing, Alix? God, I don’t know where you learned that trash talk, but you are not to bring it into my home. Do you understand?”
Fucking hell, this whole situation is embarrassing. For a moment, you’d swear I’m twelve, not twenty-nine. Alas, it doesn’t matter what age I am. Mom won’t tolerate swearing in her home. Perhaps I should gift her one of my (many) favorite e-books. I smile at the thought of her reading such filth. She’d have a heart attack for sure.
“Sorry.”
With a forgiving nod of the head, she lowers her chicken to the table, pulls off her oven mitts, and drops into her seat. Dad is first to dig in—as per usual—and from there it goes clockwise, making Jesse the last person to get his food. He doesn’t mind it. In fact, when it comes to his turn, he takes a small piece of chicken and an even smaller scoop of vegetables. I don’t comment on it. I’ve kind of lost my appetite too.
“So, Gracie has some exciting news for us,” Mom announces with a lively bounce in her chair.
The pride she feels glows on her features. It practically spills from her pores and contaminates the food. We all look to Grace as she lowers her cutlery and threads her fingers.
“Well… I’m getting married!”
Mom drops her fork just as Dad spits his wine over the table. I’m not sure if it hits my food, but I’m not taking any chances. I push my plate away. I’d rather not eat. Jesse, who sits closest to my father, pushes his plate away too. Then, a huge, and I mean huge, smile stretches my lips.
“To whom?” Mom demands.
“I met a guy when I was in Paris five months ago… and we fell in love.”
“You can’t marry a man you’ve just met, Grace!” Mom protests.
The room falls silent and for once, the heavy tension isn’t because I did something stupid. Grace sits at the end of the table unbothered by my parents shock. For someone who usually isn’t on the receiving end of their wrath, she’s handling it extremely well.
“We haven’t even met him,” Dad points out. “What if we don’t like him?”
Grace shrugs and purses her thin, pink lips before speaking. “It doesn’t matter. I like him—I love him.”
“Marjorie, talk some sense into your daughter.” Dad stabs his fork into a piece of chicken and brings it to his mouth. He rips into his chicken like a caveman, not once taking his eyes off Grace. I’ve always envied Grace and her perfection. She’s always listened to our parents. She’s always done what makes them happy, but now, she’s doing something for herself and I’m the proud one. Good for her.
Mom pushes out from her chair. “Grace, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a minute?”
If it were me, I’d sigh and drag my heels, but Grace smiles politely and follows Mom without complaint. When they’re gone, Jesse excuses himself and I quickly follow, knowing very well Dad will drag me into a ranting conversation about irrational life choices and their consequences.
I follow Jesse up the wide hallway.
“Do you know where the bathroom is?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“I’m sure I’ll find it… eventually.”
I stop by a cream door that has a small reef of potpourri nailed to the center of it, but Jesse keeps walking, his eyes searching for a bathroom sign or an obvious indication on where to pee. With a sigh, I push the door open and go inside. Like the rest of the house, it’s exactly as I remember it; cold, sterile and smelling of disinfectant. As I flick on the tap and submerge my hands in water, Jesse enters and shuts the door behind him. There isn’t a lock on the door. My mother has a phobia of locks and had them all removed when they bought the house.
“So, your family is… intense.”
I pull the hand towel off of the rack and smile at him through the mirror as I dry my hands. “This dinner is actually turning out alright.”
“Because your sister is in trouble?”
I don’t deny it. “It’s nice to see her do something for herself for once. I’m happy for her.”
And it wasn’t a lie.
Jesse saunters closer. “She’s marrying a guy she met in Paris five months ago. It’s hardly a good idea. It’s dangerous and reckless… you should be helping your parents talk her out of it.”
I turn around and lean against the cupboard. “I’m hardly the person to talk her out of doing something reckless. You’re my boss. If they knew that, then Grace marrying a stranger from Paris wouldn’t be the biggest issue here.”
His beautiful, brown eyes thin into slits. “Am I going to be your boss forever?”
I hesitate. If Jesse and I start dating, legitimately dating, I’d have to find a new job, and I love my job. “I’m not sure.”
Ever so subtly, he flinches. He doesn’t want me to see it, but I do. Besides, when did his feelings change? When I put on a nice dress and pretended to be a ‘lady’? Not tha
t long ago, he couldn’t wait for this whole thing to be over… I like him, I do, but I’m not sure if it’s enough to jeopardize my job or my comfort zone.
Jesse inches closer. “Are you really not sure, or are you scared?”
I think about his words. I’m definitely not scared… but maybe I’ll admit to being ‘unconvinced’. Jesse is handsome, smart, wealthy, and a million other things, but he’s yet to satisfy me. Most women claim sex isn’t important, but as a woman, I know that’s absolute bullshit. Sure, in the beginning it doesn’t really matter, but as the years pass, you kind of get tired relying on yourself to orgasm and before you know it, you loathe the idea of having sex. Well, that’s not happening to me. Not on my watch.
“To be honest,” I say. “I’m not convinced we’re a good match.”
He moves even closer and looks down at me with dark eyes. I swallow hard and press myself into the bench behind me.
“Doesn’t matter,” he states. “But that’s not what you’re truly worried about at all.”
“Oh it’s not, is it?”
He shakes his head. “Not at all. You’re worried I won’t be able to fuck you the way you want to be fucked.”
My throat dries. Holy shit. Never has the word ‘fuck’ sounded so good as it falls from full, moist lips. Heat rushes underneath my skin and I’ll be damned, I’m blushing like a fucking pre-teen. I open my mouth to contest him, but I barely get a word out as he rushes forward and crushes his body against mine. My entire body tightens as he slips his hand between us and moves it up under my dress.
“I’ll prove it to you. I’m going to make you come so fucking hard that your legs will threaten to crush my skull.”
Unbearable tingles cease my thighs as he nears their apex and I fight the urge to squeeze them together. “You’re good with words.”
