Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
DANIELLE
“MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME.” VIVIAN Landry taps the side of a stool facing into the kitchen as she makes her way to the refrigerator. “How was your trip?”
“Good,” I say, not sure whether to sit or stand. She indicated to sit, but maybe I should stand. “Do you need help with anything?”
She glances at me over her shoulder, a warm smile splashed against her porcelain skin. “Don’t be silly. You’ve been traveling all day. Sit down and let me get you something to refresh you.”
Sienna waltzes in and joins her mom in the kitchen. She, however, hops on the counter top just like I’ve seen Lincoln do a million times. It makes me grin as I climb onto the stool.
They make me nervous. Not because they’re Lincoln’s family—I’ve met a guy’s family before. Not because they’re wealthy or so beautiful. It’s because they’re different. They are a family. They like each other. It leaves me a little uncertain how to proceed.
“What do you like?” Vivian asks. “Water? Hot cocoa? Tea?” She looks at her daughter. “When do we sit on counters, Sienna?”
“Come on, Mom,” she sighs playfully. “It’s the Farm. Not your house. I’m not tainting your counters with my as—behind.”
Vivian flashes her a warning glance. “Careful, little girl.”
Sienna reacts with a bubbly laugh and picks a piece of celery off a plate beside her. Twirling it in the air, she looks at me. “It’s nice to have you here, Danielle.”
“Thanks,” I blush. “It’s nice being here.”
“Will your family miss you for the holiday?” Vivian asks, pulling a tray with two pitchers on it from the refrigerator.
A little bubble of panic floats to the top of my throat as I try to figure out how to tell these people I’m nothing like them.
I’m more than relieved when she keeps talking and doesn’t wait on an answer.
“I hate when my kids can’t come for Thanksgiving.
It’s our favorite holiday, the one not marred by gifts and cards and money,” she says, shooting Sienna a look.
“I don’t ask for money,” Sienna shoots back. “Daddy just gives it to me.”
Vivian lets it go and instead pulls three heavy glasses from a mahogany cabinet. “You are spoiled rotten.”
“That’s why I’ve had a job since I was fifteen, right?” Sienna asks, crunching on the celery. “Because I’m so spoiled.”
“A little work never hurt anyone,” Vivian retorts, handing me a glass of dark liquid. “If you want something else, just ask. I got sidetracked here with my mouthy daughter.”
Sienna blows her mom a kiss. Vivian walks across the room, grabs her daughter’s face, and kisses her cheek.
They’re so easy with each other. Mother and daughter, yes, but something more. Something I’ve never really seen before. Maybe this is unconditional love.
“Danielle?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, fidgeting as I come back to the present. “It’s just been a long day.”
“Do you need to lie down?” Sienna asks. “I can take you up to your room. Lincoln always tries to take mine, but since I got here first, y’all are at the end.”
I can’t help but laugh at the smug look on her face. “That’s okay. I think Lincoln wanted to show me around when he gets back. He was pretty excited to bring me here.”
“It’s our favorite place,” Sienna smiles. “Our parents don’t live here, so we didn’t grow up here in that sense. But we’ve celebrated every holiday except Christmas morning, every big occasion, every summer break here.”
“I can see why.”
“What about you?” she asks. “What does your family do for holidays?”
I swallow a lump in my throat and fidget in my seat. Vivian’s perfectly executed brow lifts ever-so-slightly. “My parents travel. Holidays really aren’t a big deal in my family,” I say as nonchalantly as possible.
“What?” Sienna almost barks. “How are they not a big deal?”
“Sienna,” Vivian breathes, giving her a look to shush her. I’m grateful for it, yet nervous because she senses my unease. That will lead to questions and it’s not something I want to get into.
These people are Americana. They’re as red-white-and-blue as apple pie.
They’ll never understand my life. To them, I’ll be the black sheep of my family and I’m sure they’ll think I’m blemished in some way.
Isn’t that how it will look? Why else would a set of successful, socially prominent parents have nothing to do with their only child?
“It’s fine,” I lie, smiling gratefully at Vivian. “My parents are just super busy.” Sipping my tea, I gather myself. “So, Sienna, what do you do?”
“I’m a fashion designer.” Her eyes sparkle as she grabs another stem of celery. “I live in Los Angeles, but am considering a move to Paris.”
“You just think you are,” Vivian scoffs, pulling various boxes and cartons from a pantry. “You are not moving overseas, Sienna LeighAnn.” Sienna rolls her eyes behind her mother’s back, making me laugh.
“No, I should move home and live with Camilla. We can wear matching rompers and attend all your social functions like the girls in My Best Friend’s Wedding.”
A giggle escapes my lips before I can stop it. Vivian looks at me and smiles. “She’s a handful.”
“At least I’m not a weirdo,” Sienna says, chomping on the vegetable again. “Like my dear twin sister. Where is she, anyway?”
Vivian releases a long, heavy sigh. “She’s supposed to be here,” she says, looking at the iron clock on the wall. “An hour ago. You need to talk to her, Sienna. See if you can find anything out.”
“What’s going on?” I ask before I stop myself. “I’m sorry. I just way overstepped my bounds.”
“No, honey, it’s fine,” Vivian says, swiping a manicured hand in the air. “My other daughter is usually the first one to all family functions, an ever-present fixture in all our lives.”
“We call her Swink because she’s always in our business,” Sienna points out. “But all of a sudden, she’s gone. I mean, she’s here. She’s around. But she doesn’t call me anymore. She’s not answering Graham’s calls. She’s not—”
“—showing up as usual,” Vivian sighs. “I’m sure she’s fine. She sounds fine. She’s just going through something, that’s all.”
As if she can’t think about it a moment longer, Vivian turns back and works to form a tray of little sandwiches and fruits. And that’s the end of that.
***
LINCOLN
MY FATHER GREETS MY OLDER brother quickly before heading back to the house. I stand, still a little perplexed, and walk towards the car. Graham is standing at the hood of the car waiting on me.
“Hey,” I say as I reach him.
“Good to see you.” Graham pulls me into a quick, one-arm hug. “How was your flight?” He tugs on his green tie, loosening it from around his neck.
“How do you wear that shit every day?” I ask, watching him unbutton the top button. “Don’t you feel like a monkey in a suit?”
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t you feel like a giant little boy playing ball every day?” he teases.
“A giant little boy a lot of chicks want to fuck.”
“I’ll tell you a secret,” he says, heading to the driver’s side door. “Chicks might like ball players. Women like suits.”
Climbing in the passenger’s side, I laugh. “Whatever you say.”
“Speaking of women, did you bring Danielle?”
Her name sparks a warmth inside me. “Yeah. She’s inside with Mom and Sienna.”
He flashes me a look. “Is that safe?”
The car slides down the driveway towards the house. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Um, Linc. Your normal girlfriends make Sienna want to brawl. Remember the one that wore fishnets to Barrett’s birthday party?”
“She wasn’t a girlfriend,” I scoff. “Don’t give her too much credit.”
“You brought her.”
“Kind of. I kind of brought her,” I say in defense. “Seriously, why do we always bring her up?”
“Because it’s so easy,” he chuckles. “Just like I’m guessing she was.”
“Dude, she used to take my—”
“No. Just no,” Graham laughs as the car comes to a stop in front of the house.
“Pussy,” I wink.
We exit the car and I breathe in a lungful of clean, Savannah air. It smells different this time. Tastes different. Feels different.
Cleaner, maybe? Crisper? I can’t figure out what it is, exactly, but something seems like a page has turned.
“What?” Graham asks, furrowing his brow as we climb the steps to the house.
“What what?”
“You’re thinking something.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you only have one face you make when you are thinking about something. And because you rarely think, it’s a look all its own.”
“Fuck off,” I laugh, opening the door. Graham goes in first and I hesitate a moment before stepping over the threshold.
I wait for it, anticipate it, and the door isn’t closed behind me before I feel it: the sense of being home.
It’s the same feeling I’d get when I was a little boy and had been to baseball camp too many days.
It only happens here, at the Farm. It’s the warmth of the lighting, the perfect temperature, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla, like a fleece blanket has been draped over me.
This is what I compare every place I’ve ever lived to. My college apartment. The little place I had in Milwaukee right before I was traded to Memphis. The starter house I had there before I moved into the one, deemed safer by my agent, I have now. They never come close.
Although I’ve seen them a million times, I take in all the little things as I pass by.
The photographs of my siblings and I peppered on the walls, the glass of marbles my grandmother collected sitting on the mantle.
The ding right above the baseboard as we enter the hallway, a mark from a wild toss one day that was intended to hit Ford in the head but missed, both regrettably and thankfully.
Graham disappears around the corner in front of me, yet my feet falter.
I uptake a quick breath, feeling like the time Sydney Fettingberg was my date for junior prom.
She was the “it girl” of school and I felt like I had scored a grand slam when she agreed to go with me.
I did hit a grand slam later that night, but it wasn’t all I thought it would be. I ended it a couple of weeks later.
This is that on steroids. Danielle’s laughter blending with my mom’s and sister’s, hearing Graham introduce himself to her, makes my chest feel like it’s going to explode.
I could stand here all night and listen to them.
It feels better than any homerun I’ve ever hit, any ridiculous catch I’ve ever made in center field.
This is better than any accolade I’ve gotten from the baseball league or any magazine cover I’ve been on and this isn’t even about me. It’s about her.
Maybe. Maybe it’s about me and her. Maybe it’s about us in a way that’s feeling more real with every passing minute.
“Hey,” I say, turning the corner. Everyone stops and looks at me. I see Mom first, a twinkle in her eye. Sienna gives me a thumbs-up. Graham looks slightly impressed and Danielle looks beautiful.
She’s sitting at the bar, Graham to her right and Sienna across from her, as naturally as if she’d been here a million times. She gives me a soft smile, an ease in her shoulders that makes me want to grab her and kiss the fuck out of her.
Walking up behind her, I put my hands on her shoulders and give them a gentle squeeze. “What’s happening?” I ask.
“I’ve made an order from Hillary’s House for dinner. It should be here in an hour or so,” Mom says. “How was your talk with your father?”
“Good,” I laugh. “What do y’all think of my girl?”
Dani stiffens under my touch, but I massage it out of her. I wish I could see her face, but I can’t.
“You don’t ask that in front of me,” she says, swatting at my hand.
“Normally he shouldn’t,” Graham agrees. “But I think he’s safe this time.” My brother looks at me and winks. “I have no idea how you’ve managed to convince this one to like you, but you should keep her.”
“I plan on it,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “Now, if you guys are done, I’d really like to show her around.”
“Sure. Thaaaat’s what you’re wanting to do,” Sienna laughs, getting a tap on the leg from Mom.
“Go ahead,” Mom says. “Enjoy yourselves.”
Danielle steps off the stool and I immediately clasp my hand around hers. She looks at me, her big eyes lit up.
“We’ll be back.” I lead her into the hallway and my plan is to take her outside, but we don’t make it. As soon as we’re out of sight, I pin her to the wall.
“Linc,” she breathes, her hands finding the small of my back. She scrambles to find my skin buried under my shirt.
“Thank you for coming,” I whisper against her lips. I follow my words with the most reverent kiss I can manage. When I pull back, she’s smiling.
“Thank you for bringing me. Your family is amazing.”
“They’re all right,” I joke.
She doesn’t say anything, just cups my cheek with her hand. She searches my face for something, but a long moment passes before I can tell if she finds what she’s looking for.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I’m just thinking how handsome you are.”
“Get a good look at this face.”
“Why?”
I can’t help the smirk that tugs my lips. “This is the face you’ll be sitting on later.”
She falls against the wall, her mouth gaping open. Looking at me like she’s ready to skip the walk altogether, I step away. She gasps.
“What are you doing? You can’t say that and leave me hanging,” she complains. She reaches for me and I step back farther, laughing.
“Sure I can. I have things to show you first.”
“I hate you, Landry,” she groans, shoving off the wall with her shoulders. “I need the bathroom.”
“A little wet?” I say, bumping her shoulder. She’s not amused, which only makes me laugh harder. “The door at the end of the hallway. I’ll wait here.”
She grabs my cock and squeezes it through my pants, then she walks away.