Chapter 16
VIVIENNE
The silence in this car is suffocating.
There’s no conversation. No polite small talk about the weather, hobbies, or whatever people resort to when conversation runs dry—only the faint hum of country music drifting through the speakers.
And even then, Nate’s music choice feels more like self-inflicted torture than something he actually enjoys. I’ve caught him wincing in distaste a few times—something that could easily be remedied if he switched to a different station.
“Let me get this straight.”
Relief washes over me when Nate finally breaks the heavy quiet. Two hours without a single word. We made it to New Jersey already—that’s how long we’ve been sitting in this tension.
“That guy—he’s the one who came onto you after your volunteering shift?”
“Yes,” I respond with no hesitation.
“And how do you know him?”
“Ex-boyfriend.”
“Of how recent?”
“University. We broke up in our fourth year.”
“Do you still have feelings for him?”
I snort. “Absolutely not.”
“Good.”
My head snaps over to Nate, who still refuses to face me, but it doesn’t stop the tingling in my chest at the implication of his word.
Good.
It could mean anything.
The sort of good that meant his reputation still has a standing chance at being salvaged. The sort of good that meant he didn’t need to bend over backward to show his parents we were a real couple. But a small part of me hopes it’s the sort of good that means he cares.
The real question, though—why do I care whether he cares?
“Thanks for getting him off me,” I say sincerely.
Nate grumbles something under his breath as the car rolls to a stop in the driveway of a large European-style home—all warm red bricks, brown shutters, and ivy trailing down the sides. It looks warm and homey, like a lifetime’s worth of memories were tucked inside and outside those walls.
“Anything I should know before heading in?” I ask.
Nate’s hands run down his face, dread etching deep lines into his brows before he pops the door open. “Let’s just do our best to try to convince them that we’re in love,” he answers, already halfway out of the car.
A loud bang resonates when Nate slams the door shut, and I take the moment alone to come up with a plan of action.
Truth is, I have no idea how we’ll pull this off with the strain that’s found itself between us. He won’t look at me. He’s barely even talking. If nothing changes, his parents will be on to us in an instant.
Anxiety zips through me at the reality that lies beyond those grand front doors, but I push it aside, take a deep breath in, and follow his lead up the path to his childhood home.
With the press of the button, the doorbell rings. We stand shoulder to shoulder, waiting in anticipation until the door creaks open, hinting at marble floors.
“Come on in, you guys. Door’s open. We’re out in the yard,” Nate’s mother yells out—a voice I recognize from the call.
Nate and I share a hesitant look before stepping inside, and I let my gaze wander as I admire their home. Grand staircases wrap on either side of the foyer. A charming wooden table sits right in the middle. Picture frames of family photos and news articles are plastered all over the walls.
It’s as beautiful on the inside as it is on the outside.
“Uncle Nateee!” A high-pitched scream catches me off guard. I turn to see a small blond girl running up to him, her arms wide. She latches on to his leg, squeezing as tightly as she can. “I missed you soooo much.”
The lines of sadness on Nate’s face soften at the sight of her. “I missed you too, Anya girl,” he says as his fingers run through her curls. “But when did you get so tall?”
“That’s what happens when you don’t show up to family dinner for weeks!” She smiles widely at him before running away.
Nate’s hand is frozen midair, right where she once stood, before commotion from past the kitchen and through the patio doors draws our attention.
It’s dark out there, the sun having set somewhere along our commute. But the two women standing with their hands clasped in front of their bodies, bumping their shoulders into each other, are as visible as day.
“Mom, I said act natural,” a brunette hisses. “We can’t scare her off already.”
The mother’s eyes narrow at her daughter. “You should be thanking me for convincing them to come over. We would have never met her otherwise.”
It’s only when their eyes land on us that their banter comes to an end and nervous smiles pull at their lips.
“Hi!” Both women wave in unison, a little too suspiciously.
Nate’s frown deepens, remaining even when his too-excited niece comes running back to us.
“Come on, Uncle Nate. It’s barbie-cue time!”
Nate gasps in surprise as she latches onto both our hands and drags us through the house.
“Did you actually get your Barbies and put them on the barbecue this time?”
I choke back a laugh at Nate's questions. Definitely not something you say to a three-or-so-year-old, but it’s the first real bit of personality I’ve seen since everything that went down.
“No! Of course not!” the little girl giggles.
The second the cool fall air hits our skin, I’m overtaken with hugs and kisses. I have no idea who’s touching me or who’s rattling questions in my direction, but I try my hardest to act like the loving, doting fiancée.
“If it isn’t the blushing bride!” Nate’s mother says, beaming with enthusiasm.
Pin-straight medium-length brown hair. A baby-blue cardigan that brings out the color of her eyes. This woman is absolutely gorgeous. And it doesn’t take a genius to realize where Nate gets his impeccable good looks from.
I stick my hand out to shake hers. “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Archer.”
“Oh, no need for formalities. You can call me Natalia.” She brushes me off with a wave of her hand as she pulls me into another hug.
Can’t breathe. She’s got the grip of a baby holding on to a strand of hair, but thankfully, someone comes to my rescue.
“There’s no need to crush the girl’s airway, sweetheart,” a man in a simple polo yells from behind the burger-and-sausage-riddled barbecue.
Natalia gasps in shock at the comment, jerking back from me.
“Richard.” He introduces himself from a distance, his smile warm and inviting. “Don’t mind my wife. She gets carried away sometimes. I’d come over to shake your hand, but this barbecue needs my full attention. I set off one too many grease fires this past summer.”
“I can attest to that!” Nate’s sister interjects—Audrey, as her mother introduced her. “He did set my hair on fire, hence the new ‘do.” She gestures toward her short, bobbed brown hair.
While my mouth drops in shock, she laughs.
“Just kidding!”
“Or not,” Richard pipes in.
Whether the story is true or not, I can confidently say she rocks it.
From my research, Audrey is successful in her own right, only in the fashion industry. And there’s something about that haircut that drives the elegant CEO of an up-and-coming fashion house.
Contagious giggles reappear as Anya runs circles around the barbecue. Her feet pitter against the patio stones as the hem of her dress flounces with every step.
“Be careful, Anya, you’re going to get dizzy,” Nate warns, visibly concerned.
As predicted, she falls butt first, head wobbling from side to side as she looks at me, crossed-eyed.
A chubby finger is pointed in my direction. “Is that Princess Belle?”
Nate shakes his head as he approaches his niece and kneels next to her. He murmurs something in her ear, eyes on me the whole time. When he’s done, Anya turns to me, smiling wider than ever before.
I don’t have the time to question it when Richard yells, “No need for Barbies when we have a cue. Get in line, boys, food’s ready.”
———
The paper plates are empty and tossed aside. The food was devoured with none left. And the resulting coma might hit at any second.
Getting to learn more about this crazy family over dinner was less stressful than I’d anticipated, and I can honestly say I really enjoyed it. The same can’t be said for Nate, who’s been nothing but a grump all evening.
“There’s no need to embarrass me,” he mutters under his breath when his mother rushes inside the house for his baby picture book.
Audrey leans further into the table she’s standing against. “I mean, it’s only fair. They did it to me when I first got engaged, and now it’s your turn,” she taunts, sticking her tongue out.
Nate’s eyes narrow. “It’s not the same,” he reasons.
“And why not?” Audrey asks with the quirk of her brow. “Are you guys not engaged? I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised with the way you’re both sitting.”
Just as I thought, nothing about our behavior tonight alluded to a couple in love, and sitting on opposite ends of the same furniture sent that message home. But unlike that time at Margaret’s house, the distance between us is Nate’s doing, not mine.
For someone who made it clear that we needed to convince his family we’re in love, he’s doing an awful job.
The man beside me grunts at his sister’s comment before getting up from the far end of the pool chair and dropping himself next to me. His hand lands on my hip, squeezing tightly. And I suck in a ragged breath at the warmth that shoots through me.
“Are you happy?” Nate asks, unimpressed with his sister’s behavior.
Audrey smiles, clearly satisfied. “Very much so.”
“Would you still be picking on me like this if Adam were here?”
“A 110 percent.”
He rolls his eyes, swearing off his brother, who didn’t show up for this impromptu dinner because of his “hot date.” Adam’s words, not Nate’s and definitely not mine.
Laughter sounds off in the distance, and our attention diverts to the two grown-ass men entertaining Anya. Richard trails the father-and-daughter duo with a wide smile as they run around the place, chasing the fireflies that dance like tiny stars in the twilight.
The sight touches a place deep in my heart.