Off Limits

by Vanessa Winters

  “You know,” my dad says one morning while we’re going over briefs for new clients, “when I fell in love, I had a hard time focusing on anything else.”

  I make a face at him. The last thing I want to hear about is my dad in love. Considering I haven’t seen my mom in about eleven years, it’s not like he made a good choice there. “I’m not in love.”

  He looks skeptical.

  “Are you sure? Would you know it if you felt it?”

  “Dad,” I say firmly. “I think I’m old enough to know my own emotions.” He’s the last person I want to have this conversation with, but I know he’s trying his best.

  He nods, relenting. “You are. You just seem different. I had to wonder if there was someone you met while you were in France.”

  He’s always been perceptive. I avoid making a scrunched up face like a child and giving myself away.

  Libby and I hadn’t talked about pretending for my family. This is strictly about her and her family, and so I don’t really know what to tell my dad. The more people we bring into the lie, the harder it will be to work ourselves out of it when the time comes.

  “I met someone,” I admit. “But we’re taking it one step at a time. It might not work out.” I leave it at that. Vague, mildly promising, but with the potential for disappointment.

  He just smiles at me and nods. “I’m happy for you. And I hope it works out.”

  We get back to work.

  Later that evening, I call Libby. It’s late her time, closing in on midnight, but she’s up, working on something that sounds like it involves a lot of numbers and acronyms that I don’t understand.

  “They’re making sure they get their money’s worth out of me before I leave,” she complains. “Which is fair, I guess, but god, I’m sick of this.”

  “You should revolt,” I tell her, amused. “Lay down the law. Working past ten is blasphemy.”

  “Against who?”

  “The god of a reasonable work/life balance.”

  “That’s an old god, and he’s dead,” she says blandly. I can’t help but laugh at the drama of it all.

  “I won’t keep you too long, then. I just wanted to let you know that I hinted to my dad that I met someone while I was in France. I don’t know how deep we want this to go, but if someone happens to ask him if I’m seeing someone … Verisimilitude, you know?”

  “Mm, that’s a good idea. I didn’t even think about how it would be on your end.” She laughs, and it sounds self-deprecating, even over the phone. “I’ve been a little self-centered about this whole thing, I guess.”

  “Maybe, but you’re the one with the most to lose here. It’s your family and your ex. I’m just along for the ride.”

  “I still don’t know how I’m going to repay you for this,” she says.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like I’m suffering over here. Well, I am, but that’s just because you’re not here.”

  “Poor baby,” she coos, only to crack up in the middle of it. “Tell you what, since you miss me so much, you can have the honor of picking me up from the airport when I get in. How does that sound?”

  “Like I’m going to make you blow me in the car to make it worthwhile,” I reply, but I’m kidding. I’d do a lot more than pick her up from the airport at this point.

  She gets in at a decent hour, and gives me a hug when she makes it to where I’m waiting with my car. It’s nice to see her, and I hug her close, ignoring the way she smells like the plane.

  “It’s so weird being back here,” she keeps saying, looking around at everything like it’s been years since she was last on American soil instead of months. But I know that feeling. Every time I travel somewhere overseas it takes a while to adjust to being back home.

  I stow her bags and we get into the car.

  “So,” she says after a bit. “I have good news, bad news, and worse news. Which do you want first?”

  I’m already wary, and her bright smile isn’t doing anything to change that. “The good news, I guess, only because I feel like the bad news and the worse news need to be delivered together.”

  “Bingo,” she says. “The good news is we don’t have to have an awkward phone call with my parents and my brother about you being my boyfriend, so they won’t flip out when you show up with me at Nana’s party.”

  I can already see where this is going. “Let me guess, the bad news is they want to meet me in person.”

  “Sort of. They’re having a dinner for me to welcome me back home, and I told them I might bring someone with me. I kept it vague, just in case you want to jump ship. I’d definitely understand if you do.”

  “You do realize I’ve met most of your family before, right?” I say as I drive, keeping my eyes on the road, but glancing over at her every once in a while.

  It’s only been about a week since I last saw her, and I’m already hungry for her again. She sits there in my car looking tired and worn out, and I just want to take her home, feed her, and then make sure she gets a good night’s sleep by having sex with her until she’s exhausted.

  I keep my hands on the wheel and my eyes ahead, not letting my baser instincts get the better of me.

  “Yeah, but that’s different,” she says. “First of all, it was a long time ago, and second, you were just Darren’s friend then. Now you’re my boyfriend. I mean, you’re not really my boyfriend, but you get the point. They’re going to be meeting you as my boyfriend, and that comes with a whole different protocol, especially after how things went down with Chris.”

  “Ah, one bad apple spoils it for everyone else?”

  “Basically.”

  “If I tell you I’m not worried, will you think I’m being insincere?” I ask, glancing over again.

  “No,” she says. “But I want you to take this seriously. Getting past my parents and Darren is the first step to making sure this party goes off well, you know.”

  “I know,” I assure her. “Trust me. I spend a lot of time talking to people for a living. I think I can handle it.”

  “What are you going to say to Darren?” she asks, and for the first time I falter a little.

  “I’m not sure yet. But I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Yeah, okay.” She doesn’t look convinced.

  “Wait,” I say, remembering how she started this conversation. “What’s the worse news?”

  “The party is in two days.”

  Ian

  From what I’ve been told, officially, it’s to welcome Libby back to the States, but since she’s told everybody she’s bringing a date, it’s turned into being mostly about them meeting me.

  “Did you tell them it was me you’re bringing?” I ask her while she’s driving us to the her parents’ house.

  “Nope,” she replies, grinning. “I figured I’d let you handle it since you’re so confident.”

  Her grin is teasing and mischievous, and I roll my eyes. “I’m still not worried.”

  I’m not really. I might not have been in a lot of serious relationships over the years, but parents love me. I know how to charm them into telling me what they want to hear, and then I say it. It’s the same thing I do with clients, a sort of subtle manipulation that leaves everyone in a good mood and feeling like they got what they wanted.

  Libby’s parents will be the same. Her sister already knows what is going on, and Darren … well, that will be more difficult, I can admit that.

  I can’t tell if it will help or hurt things that we haven’t seen each other in so long, but it is what it is. I’ll just have to convince him that I really do like his sister, which won’t be hard because I do like her.

  We pull up to her parents’ house, and I’m immediately hit by a wave of nostalgia. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in the sprawling ranch style home on its large plot of land, but it looks pretty much the same.

  I can remember throwing a football around with Darren in the large backyard, and listening to the sound of dogs bark
ing and howling at night while I laid on the couch.

  I remember Libby’s family as being warm and tight knit, a unit that welcomed me in when I was just Darren’s college friend who needed somewhere to crash over Thanksgiving.

  The front door swings open, letting light from inside spill out onto the dark porch, and someone comes dashing down the stairs to sweep Libby up into a hug.

  “You’re here!” she squeals. “Oh my god, it’s so good to see you!”

  I figure it’s Annabelle, Libby’s younger sister, and when she finally pulls back, I can see I’m right.

  She looks a lot like Libby, with the same blue eyes and blond hair, though Annabelle’s is cut shorter, and she has an inch or two on her big sister.

  Annabelle dives in for another hug, and Libby laughs. “Annie, you’re squishing me,” she complains good naturedly.

  Annabelle finally lets her go and then sees me. A grin spreads over her face and she comes over to shake my hand.

  “Ian Black,” I say, reintroducing myself just in case.

  “Oh, I know who you are,” she says, grinning even wider. “I mean, I remember you, of course, but I also know you’re doing my sister a favor.” She winks, and Libby groans.

  “Annie, can you chill for like a second? And keep it down!”

  “What are y’all doing out there in the cold?” a male voice calls from the doorway, and I recognize it as Darren’s. “Stop hogging her and let her come inside, Annie.”

  “Fuck off, Darren, we’ll be in in a minute,” Annabelle snaps back, rolling her eyes. She turns back to us. “He’s going to hit the roof, I hope you both know.” And then she grins and turns to flounce back into the house.

  “Worried yet?” Libby asks me, glancing over.

  I square my shoulders and shake my head. “Not even a little bit.”

  “Okay,” she says, laughing. “Let’s go in, then.”

  The house is warm inside, and it smells like fresh bread and cooking meat. My stomach growls with anticipation, and Libby and I take off our coats and hang them up by the door.

  I follow her as she follows the sound of laughter and talking to a good-sized kitchen where the family has gathered.

  They all look up and cheer when they see Libby, everyone taking turns to hug her and wish her well. And then they see me. And things get quiet.

  “Um, Mom, Dad. Darren,” Libby adds. “This is Ian. I, uh … I brought him for dinner with us. You remember Ian, right?”

  Her parents exchange glances, and Darren looks like he wants to commit a murder, but then her mom snaps out of it and comes over to hug me. “Of course we remember him. You were here all the time back when Darren was at school. It’s so good to see you again.”

  “It’s good to see you, too, Mrs. Chastain,” I say, giving her a warm smile. “You haven’t aged a day since then.”

  She gives me a look that’s half pleased, half skeptical, but she doesn’t seem upset.

  Libby’s dad shakes my hand and asks how things have been, so I tell him a little about the business and my travel, not bragging, but making it clear that things have been going well for me since the last time they saw me.

  I glance over at Darren every once in a while, and he just keeps standing there with his arms folded, looking like he wants to drag me outside and beat me senseless.

  For the moment, I keep him at a distance. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to start anything in the kitchen at least, and it’s a lot easier to work on the other members of the family instead.

  Her dad loves sports, of course. He asks me about playing lacrosse, and I admit I’ve fallen off of the sport since college, but we talk about football and basketball, and I’ve got enough knowledge of current teams and scores to keep the conversation going while the meal is being finished up.

  Annabelle is easy to charm, even though she’s the only one other than Libby and me who knows what’s really going on. I tease her and stop just short of flirting with her, and she’s giggling and fluttering her eyelashes at me while sending Libby the universal signal for “damn, good job with this one.”

  Libby just rolls her eyes, but smiles at me, and I feel like I’m doing this right.

  It’s all for her when it comes down to it. Yeah, it’s nice that her family, a family that let me have Thanksgiving dinner with them more than once because I didn’t have anywhere else to go, likes me, but really, it’s her approval I’m working for here.

  Her family means a lot to her, I know that, and so even though this isn’t a real meet the parents situation because we aren’t really together, I’m giving it my all.

  And it’s nice. Her family is warm and inviting, and no one makes me feel like an outsider. It’s like seeing what my family could have been if my dad wasn’t a workaholic and my mom actually gave a shit.

  There’s a second where I feel that loss, and Libby reaches over and touches my hand gently for just a second. It’s a small gesture, but god, it feels nice to have a tether in the room, so I smile at her and then keep complimenting her mom’s cooking.

  The whole time, Darren is mostly quiet. No one calls him out for it, though Libby sends him warning looks every once in a while.

  I just wait. I know before long he’ll make his opinion known, and I work on buttering up the rest of the family so at least I’ll have them on my side if Darren decides to start shit.

  When the meal is over, we’re still sitting around the table talking and laughing. It’s warm, sitting here like this, listening to stories about the Chastain siblings when they were younger, and hearing about the things they’ve been up to since I was last here. Libby’s parents are the same as I remember them being, kind and inviting, making sure I’m included in the conversations and asking me if I want more food or need anything at all.

  Of course, they want to know how Libby and I met, so we spin them the story we came up with, telling it in parts and laughing over each other in a way that makes it feel genuine. I mean, it’s definitely realistic. Two people who haven’t seen each other in years running into each other again and then realizing there are feelings there. It’s happened to plenty of people, and her parents seem to think it’s romantic.

  There’s hope in their words when they wish us well, and I feel a little bad for a bit because I know they want what’s best for their daughter, especially after the asshole she was with before me.

  Darren doesn’t really say much. He sort of just sits there and glowers at the room at large, and as soon as the food is cleared away from the table, he gets up and jerks his head at me.

  “I need to talk to you,” he says.

  Libby sighs and gives him a look. “Darren. Can you not start a whole thing at the dinner table? Please?”

  “I’m going to start a whole thing in the living room,” he tells her shortly and walks off.

  I get up with a shrug and go to follow him.

  It’s been a long time, but he’s pretty much the same. Tall and muscular with darker hair than either of his sisters. He looks like his dad, and he hasn’t lost any of his athleticism from working behind a desk these days.

  I stand there watching him, waiting for whatever he has to say. He seems to be chewing on his words, trying to come up with something to express his displeasure without exploding in his parents’ house.

  “So, you want to tell me what the hell your game is?” Darren finally asks, glaring at me.

  I push my hands into my pockets and give him a blank look back. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t play dumb with me, Ian. I know you. I know how you operate. You don’t do this.”

  “Do what?” I ask, maybe playing a little dumb, but I need to know what exactly he’s accusing me of before I can defend myself.

  He narrows his eyes at me. “This. Meeting the parents, sitting down for dinner, holding hands, couple shit. That’s not you. The Ian I know wouldn’t do this unless there was something in it for him.”

  It stings a bit, maybe even more because he has a p
oint. The Ian he knew wouldn’t have done any of this. Back in college, I dumped more than one girl for getting too close and asking me to come home with her. It was like I was allergic to commitment or taking any steps toward it.

  I can’t say I’m completely different now, either, but that’s not what this is about with Libby.

  “Look,” I say. “I know who I used to be, and I know how this probably looks to you of all people. But it’s been a long time, Darren. You don’t think I could’ve changed since the last time you saw me?”

  He doesn’t relent, keeping his arms folded and his gaze sharp. “You could have,” he admits. “But I don’t know if I believe it. Why my sister?”

  I laugh at that. “I’m not with her because she’s your sister, dude. That sounds a little arrogant, don’t you think? Plus we haven’t seen each other in years.”

  “Then why?”

  “Because I like her. It’s nothing more than what we said. We met up in Paris and got to talking and things moved from there. We work pretty well together. That’s it.”

  “That’s not it,” he says, and he’s right in more ways than he knows. Of course, there’s the obvious fact that we’re not really together, and then there are the real reasons why I like her.

  I sigh because I hadn’t planned on getting into any of that with him. Darren was my best friend in college, but we never really talked about emotional shit. He knows about my parents and that’s about it.

  He seems to take my silence for stalling, and he huffs out an annoyed sigh. “Look, you don’t have any siblings, so you don’t understand how I feel, I guess,” he says. “Libby is my sister, man. My little sister. And I already had to watch her get her heart broken once. She hasn’t told me all the details, but I know her well enough to know it was pretty damn bad. She moved all the way to France for like half a year because of it. And now I see her here with you, and she’s laughing and smiling again, which is great, but I don’t want her to get played again. I don’t ever want to see her as hurt as she was when Chris dumped her. So I need to know that you’re not just fucking around with her.”