by Evans, LJ
I’d packed the night before after asking Dani what I needed to bring with me. Her response had been, “Everything.”
When I’d looked puzzled, she laughed. “We’ll be in the pool, on the courts, in the sand, barbecuing, and at the country club, which means you’ll need bathing suits, shorts, dresses, and everything in between.”
I’d never put it together that Dani and Mac were from a wealthy family. They’d never acted snobby or entitled like many of the socialites I knew in New York or my mom’s friends in Russia. Instead, the Whittaker siblings had always been real and down-to-earth with me. But then, Dani was talking about pools and courts and country clubs as if it was the norm, and it made me look around the apartment once more with new eyes. The decorations were understated but expensive. High-end quality. Dani had said the family owned the apartment with its view of the Capitol. But again, I hadn’t really thought about what that meant. Money.
When I was in Russia, visiting Mom and Petya, I was used to being surrounded by obnoxious wealth. Petya’s livelihood had Mom and my siblings living in a mansion that had once belonged to Russian royalty and was decked out in art and gold. Whenever I was there, Mom took me on shopping sprees that were paid for by Amex cards with limits that boggled the mind. But every time Petya had offered money to help with college or living expenses, I’d turned him down. I didn’t want to owe Petya anything. Because, even in my teens, I’d understood that what he did wasn’t on the up and up.
Needless to say, I wasn’t unfamiliar with wealth. I wasn’t even uncomfortable around it. I just hadn’t really been prepared for it to be Mac’s and Dani’s life. It was the second or third time, at least, that I’d made assumptions about Mac that weren’t true. I hadn’t been dealing in facts with him at any time since first meeting him. Descartes would have lost hope in me by now.
At the end of our car ride, we pulled up to a black wrought-iron gate with a ginormous, cursive W welded into it. Dani said the Whittakers had resided in and around Greenville for generations. This seemed impossible to me. History that far back. Because even when visiting Russia, none of Petya’s possessions had been his family’s possessions. He’d garnered them all himself.
The wrought-iron gate hung between two brick columns. Mac hit a button in the car, and the gate swung open to reveal a driveway made out of cobblestones that curled away from the street. The landscape was green, and floral, and definitely manicured.
When we pulled up to the house, I stared at it in astonishment. It was like a combination of Mount Vernon and the White House rolled into one. It even had the same type of semi-circular, curved portico with columns that the south-facing view of the White House had. It was old-world charm dropped right in the middle of Delaware. And while it was smaller than the real White House, it was still a mansion by all terms.
The front door opened, and a woman who looked like Dani came out. It wasn’t until I’d unbuckled and gotten out of the car that I realized it had to be their mother instead of their older sister. She was elegant with hardly any wrinkles, but as she got closer and her smile got wider, I could see the laugh lines that appeared on her face. It was the same smile Dani and Mac shared. The only difference between her and Dani was that her eyes were hazel instead of blue.
“Georgia, it is such a pleasure to meet you.” She stuck out her hand, and I took it, but then she pulled me into a hug I hadn’t expected because I was sure I’d crush her outfit. She didn’t seem to care.
“It’s so nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Whittaker,” I responded with a smile after stepping out of her embrace.
“It’s Clare, darling. We’ve never been a formal family.”
I wanted to laugh because their house disagreed with her statement. Mac came around the car with my suitcase in one hand and his in the other. Dani was toting her own. I reached for mine, but he didn’t let go.
Clare watched the exchange with a small smile before turning and heading back toward the door. I followed after Mac waved me ahead. When I entered, it was just what I’d expected, with a sweeping, colonial staircase, dark floors, and elegant chair rails. The kind of interior that never really went out of style. Beautiful and understated.
“Come on into the parlor. I have tea and lemonade waiting.” She turned to Mac. “Georgia is in the blue room across from you because you insisted she needed her own room.” Then, she looked at me and winked a wink that looked just like the one Mac had given me a few minutes before in the car. “I don’t know why he thinks we’re so old-fashioned. It’s not like Gabi and Bee haven’t been bringing their boyfriends home since their college days, and they never stayed in separate rooms.”
Dani laughed, and Mac choked. “Mom. I told you. Georgie is our roommate, not my girlfriend.”
She waved a hand at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be bringing those upstairs?”
She took my arm, joining us together like we’d known each other forever, and led me into the parlor as Mac and Dani both headed up the stairs with the bags.
The parlor was definitely a room that was used often, because it looked well lived-in versus the museum I might have expected from the outside of the house. Books and picture frames were scattered everywhere, and the furniture was not worn but had the look of being broken in. There was even a basket of knitting sitting by an easy chair. The room didn’t quite fit the elegance of the house, but it wasn’t so overly out of place to be weird. The only thing that was out of place was the huge TV that sat over the mantel instead of the mirror or painting I might have expected.
On the coffee table, that I was sure was an antique, was a tray with glasses and pitchers.
Clare sat on the sofa and patted the spot next to her. “Tea or lemonade?”
“Lemonade, please,” I responded, sticking my bulging bag of books on the floor nearby.
She handed me a glass. “Georgia, Dani tells me your family is spread all over the place.”
My turn to almost choke, and I did my best not to spray lemonade out of my lips. I swallowed hard before I responded. “If you count jail and Russia all over the place, then yes.”
“Robert—that’s Mac’s granddad—followed your father’s case closely when it first happened. Up in arms about what legislation needed to be written to prevent things like that happening in the future. He’s still in prison, then?”
There was no aversion or judgment in her tone. Much like Dani and Mac, she was so factual that I felt comforted by it. It made my heart warm to the whole family even more that there was no dripping sarcasm or disgust in her voice. I’d gotten all ranges of it whenever I talked about my dad. The finance guys adored him like he was a saint, the models didn’t know him so didn’t care, but others were ready to condemn me along with him once they heard. It had never stopped me from being honest about my family. It was better to throw it all out there and know who was going to stick and who was going to skitter away into the sunset. The sunset I’d thought Mac had skittered into until he started whispering sweet words that I couldn’t resist.
Facing his mom, I answered the question with the same truthfulness I always did. “Yes, he’s still in prison. He had so many counts against him that it’s not likely he’ll be eligible for parole for another ten years, at least.”
“Do you get to see him at all?”
I nodded. I hadn’t made the trip in a very long time, though. Neither of us cared for me to see him that way. And the truth was—as much as I knew he loved me and had fought for me in the divorce—I didn’t really know him. We wrote letters that were edited by prison officials and talked occasionally on the phone, but that was about it.
“And your mother? She’s in Russia?”
“Mom,” Mac said, coming into the room. “Do you really need to give Georgie the third degree as soon as she steps into the house?”
“If this is the third degree, I’ll take it,” I responded with a smile at his mom. “She’s just trying to get to know me.”
Mac poured a g
lass of sweet tea. “Who’s coming for dinner?”
He was changing the subject because he didn’t want his mom asking me about my mom. I wanted to believe it was because he was protecting me, but I also wondered if he was protecting himself.
“Gabi and Vinnie won’t be here till the morning because Vinnie had too much to do at the restaurant, but Bee and Thomas should be arriving shortly. Your grandparents said they may or may not come, depending on how Gladys is feeling.”
“What’s wrong with Grandma?” he asked, frowning.
“Just getting over a summer cold,” Clare responded. “Where’s Dani?”
“Do I look like Dani’s keeper?”
She laughed. “You’ve always been each other’s keepers.” And to me, she added, “Everyone used to think Dani and Robbie were twins.”
“Apparently, he goes by Mac full time these days,” Dani said, entering the room. She’d changed into a swimsuit and cover-up that were both sharp and eye-catching, just like Dani. The suit was cut everywhere so that there wasn’t much material left showing underneath the almost transparent cover-up. It suited her.
“Really? I thought that was just with your military friends.” Clare turned to her son with a questioning look.
“I’ve been informed that us pesky family members are the only ones who still call him Robbie. You should have seen the confusion it caused between these two.” Dani waved her hand at Mac and me.
I couldn’t help the small flush that covered my cheeks. It had been awkward finding out Mac was Dani’s brother, Robbie, but I wouldn’t have said it had confused us.
“You knew each other before you became roommates, then?” Clare asked, watching us carefully. I was suddenly aware that there wasn’t much her kids ever got past her. Like I’d never been able to get anything past my grandma.
“We met through Ava and Eli,” I told her. “When I saw Mac over the Fourth of July, I’d just rented the loft from Dani, but I had no idea that it was his apartment because I’d always known him as Mac and Dani had been calling him Robbie.”
Clare laughed. “What a meet-cute.”
Dani laughed, I swallowed, and Mac looked puzzled. “What?”
“You know, when the hero and heroine meet in a romance novel or movie. The meet-cute.”
“Mom,” Mac said, the warning back in his voice.
“Georgie, want to come swimming?” Dani asked, for once helping instead of adding to our discomfort.
“Sure,” I replied.
Dani took me to my room, leaving Mac to bear the full weight of his mother’s questions about us. The blue room was really the “Blue Room.” It looked like the Blue Room at the White House—oval shape and all. Except, this room had a bed in the middle of it. The chandelier in the room was a smaller replica. The bed wasn’t tucked up against any of the walls; it was freestanding under the chandelier with tall bedposts that reached almost to the crystals dropping from the light. The ceiling, unlike the one at the White House, was painted with clouds, cupids, and harps.
“This room is―”
“Obnoxious. But Mom always puts her favorite guests here. I think she’s secretly hoping you spend more time in Mac’s room than this one.”
“I…I don’t even know how to respond to that,” I said, trying not to laugh.
“You have your own bath; it’s through that door. The door on the left is a walk-in closet. Sometimes it houses the Christmas decorations, so you may be fighting for hanging space with Mom’s angel collection.”
I unzipped my suitcase. “I won’t unpack now. I’ll just change.”
“I’ll wait,” Dani said.
I grabbed the suit that I hadn’t used since being on the boat with Mac in Rockport, changed in the bathroom, and then came back to the bedroom where Dani had sprawled out on her back on the bed.
“Are you asleep?”
“No.” Dani shook her head. “But I tell you, I probably will sleep in between rounds of tennis. Coming home is like taking a sleeping pill for me. Unwinding makes me lethargic.”
I threw on a cover-up, and we made our way down a back stairway to a kitchen that would have made the guys on The Property Brothers jealous. The French doors led to a backyard paradise: beautiful patio furniture, a huge, sparkling pool, and a white gazebo.
The humidity had kicked in, and I was grateful for the cool water as we both dove in, swimming several laps before retiring to the chaise lounges on the side. I wasn’t sure what had happened to Mac. I had expected he’d join us, and I didn’t know if I was disappointed or relieved when he didn’t. I needed time to compile some of the information I’d gathered from him in the car and since arriving at their home. I needed to realign the facts into the folders in my brain like all the other facts I gathered. Research. This time, research on Mac and his life.
When Dani and I finally went in to change for dinner, my slight unease about the whole weekend had returned. I’d just slipped back into my sundress, put my contacts back in, and swept my wet hair into a ponytail when there was a knock on the door.
I opened it to reveal Mac. He was still in the shorts and T-shirt that he’d arrived in, which made me feel better about my cotton sundress.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make it out to the pool,” he said.
“You don’t need to babysit me,” I responded, secretly glad he’d brought it up so I didn’t seem like the insecure teenager I often felt like around him.
“After Mom cornered me, Dad came back from the club and started all over again. On the plus side, you won’t have to revisit the whole ‘who you are’ thing again,” he said, smiling. His eyes took in my wet hair and makeup-less face. I had my blue contacts in today. They were the same color as the flowers on my dress, and they seemed to blend in with Mac’s and Dani’s eyes.
“It’s okay. I understand. Grandma used to give all my friends the same third degree, and after she died, Vicky kind of took up for her.”
“Vicky worked in the salon?”
“Yep, she still does, just for the new owner.”
“Was she upset that you sold it?”
I shook my head. “No, she understood why I did it. Is there a reason we are avoiding going downstairs?”
Mac was leaning against the doorframe, and I was still standing with the door halfway open. It brought us close enough that I could smell him. The salty smell that seemed to stick with him like a sea breeze. It made me want to taste his lips again, and my eyes drifted to them like they so often did. They were sexy, beautifully shaped lips and hard to look away from once I’d started.
“I just know that as soon as we go down, I’ll lose you to the chaos.”
“Chaos?”
“You’ll see. Bodies everywhere. All the talking. And you’ll get dragged into the card games whether you want to or not.”
I smiled at him, resting my shoulder on the other side of the doorframe, which brought us even closer together. So close the hair on our arms was touching even though the skin was not. It was a weird sensation, heightening the roll of thunder that always existed between us.
“But you’re a people guy.”
He nodded. “I am. But people and family can be two very different animals.”
I laughed. “Are you calling your family animals?”
He reached out a hand from where it had been crossed over his chest and touched the corner of my lips. “You have the most gorgeous smile I’ve ever seen.”
He brushed the finger across my lips and heat shimmered its way down my body. Dense and intoxicating like that summer storm our first kiss had reminded me of. We were caught in that moment, particles drifting between us, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to move.
A door slamming downstairs and voices calling out broke us apart. He pulled his hand back slowly and said, “Come on, before Mom sends a search party.”
We headed downstairs where I could hear the commotion before seeing it.
When we entered the huge
kitchen, there were at least a dozen people milling around. Some were helping Clare with the food, some were gathered around a large oak table that looked like it had been standing in a farmhouse for centuries, and others were hollering back and forth from the adjoining, formal dining room.
A large man with white at his temples and Mac’s blue eyes approached and reached out a hand. “Georgia, it’s a pleasure. I’m Reggie, Mac’s dad.”
I shook his hand. “Thank you for letting me invade your weekend.”
“Invade?” He laughed. “I actually feel like we’re down a few this year.”
Clare hollered for everyone to come eat, and I realized, even though their home was a mansion in Greenville, one of the richest cities in Delaware according to the internet, the Whittaker clan was very much a down-to-earth group. No sit-down, fancy meal. Just dish up from the pots and dishes on the counter and find a seat wherever there was room.
I found myself at the farmhouse table with Mac and two little boys of an indeterminate age—I was not up on kid-speak or ages. But it was clear they were related to Mac, because their smiles were all the same: wide with beautiful lips and almost dimples.
“Uncle Robbie, Mom says I can’t play poker yet, so are you going to play Uno with us instead?” the oldest of the two asked.
Mac leaned over the table. “Shh. We’ll tell your mom it’s UNO, and we’ll really play poker.”
The boy made an excited yes motion with his fist.
“Can I play, too?” asked the younger one.
“You’re too young,” the older one said.
“Troy, if you get to play, then Sam does too,” Mac informed him. The older one rolled his eyes.
“He’ll just end up eating the cards again.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me at that. The boys turned their eyes to me. The older one had the blue eyes of Mac, but the younger one’s were a deep brown.
“Who are you?”
“Sam, Troy, this is my friend, Georgie.”
“Isn’t George a boy name?” the younger one, who I’d put together as being Sam, said.
