Chapter 17
Simon
As I stare at Cassie across the espresso-fogged café, I realize I’ve never felt so torn.
Part of me knows distancing myself from her is the easiest way to make a clean break. To keep either of us from getting too attached.
Another part knows that if my sister meets her, it’s all over. I’ll have three years of explaining things every time Junie asks, “Where’s Cassie?” and the real answer is, “she found a guy with a lot less baggage.”
And another part of me just wants to shove this fucking rack of mugs out of the way, race across the room, take her in my arms, and—
“Cassie,” I choke out. “Uh, hey.”
The two women flanking her have the same green eyes, and I know from Cassie’s descriptions that the taller one is Missy. That means the blonde in the Burberry raincoat is Lisa. I realize I can pick her sisters out of a lineup and name them on sight.
Cassie doesn’t know I have a sister.
“Simon?” Junie tugs my coat sleeve. “I like this mug a lot. The one with the cats?”
I say good-bye to any thought I might’ve had about whisking Junie out of here before she connects the dots between me and the perplexed-looking woman in the green raincoat. I turn to Junie, hoping maybe I can distract her.
“Which of those T-shirts over there looks like one you’d wear?” I ask.
Junie frowns at the T-shirts, then looks back at me. “They’re all exactly the same.”
Right. That they are.
I give up my attempt to distract my sister and turn back to Cassie. She and her sisters are walking toward me now, and I know I need to do a better job looking excited instead of petrified.
Since excitement is my normal state around Cassie, that part’s not hard. But the circumstances are less than ideal.
“Hey, Cassie,” I croak out. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Simon. I didn’t realize you’d be in Newport, too.”
“Who are you?” Junie blurts. She doesn’t give Cassie a chance to respond before she sticks out her right hand the way she’s learned in the business class we teach in the WorkAbility program. “I’m Junie. I’m Simon’s sister.”
I watch Cassie’s face for a reaction. It’s usually pretty obvious to anyone meeting my sister that she has Down syndrome. The facial features are recognizable, and Junie’s speech patterns are different from most people’s.
But if Cassie is surprised—either that I have a sister, or that she has a disability—her expression doesn’t show it.
“Hi, Junie.” Cassie’s expression is warm and open as she shakes Junie’s hand with friendly enthusiasm. “I’m Cassie. It’s nice to meet you. These are my sisters, Missy and Lisa.”
All the sisters shake hands, and I say a silent prayer the conversation will end here. Maybe I can hustle Junie out of here and tell her the three women are just friends. Maybe—
“Simon?” Missy cocks her head at me before turning to Cassie. “This is the Simon? The guy you’re dating?”
Dating? I wonder if that’s Cassie’s word or Missy’s. Is that how Cassie described our arrangement? I watch Cassie’s face go bright pink, and she opens her mouth to answer. I have no idea what she’s going to say, and part of me wants to cut her off.
“You’re Simon’s girlfriend?”
My sister’s voice is much too loud, and I can see joy written on her face like I’ve just given her a kitten for Christmas. She bounces on her heels and looks from me to Cassie and back to me again. “I like when you have girlfriends.”
Christ. I know she does. This is what I was hoping to avoid.
“Right,” I say, neither confirming nor denying the whole girlfriend thing. “It’s great running into you, Cassie. We were actually just headed out, so—”
“No, we weren’t,” Junie says. “You said we could order hot chocolate.”
Dammit. She’s right, of course. I fish my wallet out of my pocket, thinking maybe I can hand Junie the cash and send her up to the counter for the cocoa. That’ll buy me some time.
“Wait, so your name is Simon Glass?”
This time it’s Lisa, the younger sister, who’s looking at me with deep suspicion. Then again, I’m the one who should be suspicious. Why the hell is she calling me Simon Glass?
“I—uh—” I’m honestly not sure how to answer. I look to Cassie for help, but she’s just standing there with her face frozen somewhere between horror and embarrassment.
“Your last name’s not Glass!” Lisa snaps her fingers like she’s just figured out twenty-four down in the New York Times crossword puzzle. “It’s Traxel, right?”
Junie laughs beside me, not reading the awkwardness of the situation at all. “Simon Glass!” she hoots. “That’s a good name. Simon Glass!”
Cassie’s looking like she wants the floor to open up and swallow her. I can relate. But I need to extract myself as carefully as possible from this situation. Both sisters are zoomed in on me, and I suspect there’s no graceful exit available.
“You’re definitely Simon Traxel,” Lisa says. “I never forget a face.”
“Who’s Simon Traxel?” Missy is frowning, studying me like she’s wondering if I’m someone she ought to know.
“Simon Traxel.” Lisa puts a heavy emphasis on the last name, like that’s supposed to jog her sister’s memory.
It doesn’t seem to be jogging Cassie’s which is interesting.
I’ve gone out of my way to avoid giving my last name whenever possible, putting dinner reservations under silly pseudonyms in case my real last name were to tip her off to the fact that she’s been sleeping with the wealthiest asshole in the Pacific Northwest.
From the look on Cassie’s face, the name’s not ringing a bell.
But it is for Lisa. “Don’t you remember?” she says to Missy. “We just read that article about him in Forbes.”
“That’s him?” Missy blinks. “Oh my God, you’re right. He’s that Simon Traxel.”
“He’s famous,” Junie supplies, clearly enjoying the conversation. “He’s a gazillionaire.”
I grit my teeth and hope for the floor to swallow me up. “Technically, I don’t think gazillion is a number.” I attempt to execute a smile that doesn’t quite work. “Look, my sister and I were just heading out to—
“My goodness,” Missy says. “I remember seeing you in Business Insider. In their roundup of the top five hundred wealthiest people in America.”
“He’s number one!” Junie adds, though I’m certain she’s never seen the article. She just likes contributing to the discussion, and I can hardly blame her for that.
“I’m not number one,” is my feeble reply. “I was pretty far down the list, actually. Near the bottom.”
I glance at Cassie, hoping she sees the humor in the situation. Hoping she doesn’t hate my guts.
But she’s staring at me like she’s never seen me before in her life. “I don’t understand,” she says.
Neither do I. She deserves an explanation, but at the moment, I have nothing. I open my mouth anyway, hoping something helpful will come tumbling out.
But Missy beats me to the punch.
“Nice going, Cass!” She gives me an approving once-over. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Oh, I’ve had it in me, all right,” Cassie mutters. But she’s not smiling. In fact, she’s starting to look pissed.
But that seems to sail right over her sisters’ heads.
“You have our approval,” Lisa says. “He’s a very upstanding citizen. We’ve read all about him.”
“Better marry this one,” Missy adds.
Beside me, Junie gasps. “You’re getting married?” She beams up at me. Before I can say anything, she turns to Cassie and engulfs her in a huge hug. “You’re marrying my brother!”
Oh, God. Oh, God, no.
“No one’s getting married.” I bark the words a lot more loudly than I mean to. Everyone jumps. Even Junie bolts backward, breaking the hug like Cassie just bit her.
This is so not how I saw today going.
“Look, Cassie and I are friends,” I tell Junie in my best calm-brother voice. “That’s it. Just friends.”
“Friends,” Missy repeats, scowling. “Didn’t you just take her on a romantic getaway to Ponderosa Resort?”
“And didn’t you take her on a special road trip to that wilderness area she loves so much near—”
“Okay,” I interrupt, raking my fingers through my hair. I shoot Cassie an imploring look, hoping she’ll have my back on this. Hoping I haven’t fucked everything up.
But Cassie’s expression is blank.
“Sure,” she says slowly. “We’re just friends.”
Beside her, Missy rolls her eyes. Lisa is busy glaring. But Cassie just stares at me like she’s seeing me for the first time.
Like she can’t stand what she sees.
“Actually, more like acquaintances,” she says, her voice a little louder now. “We hardly know each other at all.”