Chapter 17
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
AVA
Swimwear, leisurewear, business wear, summer dresses, sunscreen, bug spray, and two sealed artificial insemination kits.
I stand back and survey my two suitcases – yes two, because there’s no way I can pack light.
I’ve got five different pairs of shoes for a start, and Myles has been completely unforthcoming about the dress code.
I’ve had to hedge my bets and hedging takes space.
I just hope it all fits in his car.
There’s a knock at the door and I run down the stairs to answer it. Myles is wearing a pale blue striped shirt, the sleeves rolled up, and his hands are stuffed into his jeans pockets. It’s sunny outside, and a pair of aviators cover his eyes, reflecting my image back from the glass.
“You’re early,” I complain. “I’m still packing.”
His gaze drops to my dress. It’s white with blue flowers printed all over it, tight on the bodice and flaring out from the hip. It reaches mid-thigh, and he swallows hard as he takes in my tanned skin.
I kind of like that.
“I can help you with the packing,” he says as he follows me inside. As I walk up the stairs, I swear I can feel the heat of his gaze on my back. We reach my bedroom and he rolls his eyes when he sees how much I’ve got.
“Don’t say anything,” I warn him. “You’re the one who sprung the swimwear requirement on me.”
“I was just wondering what you’ve packed for the ceremony,” he says smoothly.
“Ceremony?” I frown. Is he talking about the insemination? Because while it’s important, I wouldn’t call it a ceremony. And anyway, I’ll wear pajamas like last time.
“My dad’s vow renewal.”
“What vow renewal?”
He blinks. “Didn’t I tell you?”
“No, Myles, you didn’t.” I grit my teeth, because what the hell? “When is it?”
He shifts his feet. “Um, tomorrow?”
My mouth drops open. “Is it dressy?”
He won’t meet my eyes. Probably for the best because I’ve got a death stare right now. “I’m wearing a tux.”
Of course he is. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“I told you about the Olympics,” he points out, as though a renewal of vows ceremony is no big deal. “And to bring a swimsuit.”
I give an exaggerated huff and walk over to my closet, yanking it open dramatically.
He watches, amused, as I rake through the dresses hanging in there, finally pulling out a champagne evening dress I wore to a friend’s engagement party last summer.
I have matching heels and a bag to go with it, thank God.
“Will this do?” I ask Myles, holding it up to me. “Or should I bring something longer?”
He swallows hard. “That will be fine.” Then he takes a deep breath. “Don’t kill me, but you’ll also need something warm for tonight.”
“What’s happening tonight? Another wedding? A christening? A full blown Olympics opening ceremony?” I wouldn’t put it past him at this point.
“The bachelor and bachelorette parties.”
I blink. “But aren’t they already married?”
“They ran away to Vegas. Dad wants to do it right this time. He thinks Julia missed out on the whole bride thing and wants to make it up to her.”
“Will I have to go to the bachelorette? I don’t know anybody.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he promises me. “But they’re combined. I’ll be there, you know me.”
“So why do I need something warm?” I ask.
“They’re having a cookout and a band. By the lake.” His smile is tight. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think any of this through. It’s bad enough that I have to put up with my family, you shouldn’t have to as well. It’s not too late to back out.”
“And miss out on your super sperm?” I quip, trying to lighten the mood. “No way, buddy.”
Thankfully, he laughs as I pull out some more clothes, then have to ask for his help to zip my suitcases shut.
The smaller one is resisting so much that in the end he picks me up and sits me on the top, making a show of pulling the zipper around the lid to close it.
I’m kind of closed lipped myself, because I’m still marveling at how easily he lifted me up.
Like I wasn’t a good one hundred and thirty pounds.
Ten minutes later, we’re finally in his car as he pulls away from my townhouse and drives toward the Kanawha River.
Soon we are on the interstate, and I sit back in the leather bucket seat and watch his bare forearms as he steers left to join the fast lane.
His car is beautiful, a silver F Type Jaguar convertible, with the top down to enjoy the almost-summer sunshine.
I’ve pulled my hair back and my ponytail ruffles in the breeze, the same one that caresses Myles’ hair and makes him look young and carefree.
There aren’t many cars on the road, and Myles takes advantage, putting his foot down on the gas until he exceeds the limit by a bit. His lip curls as we make progress, crossing the Kanawha River then heading east toward Virginia.
“Tell me about your father’s place.” I have to yell as the wind almost swallows my voice.
“Misty Lakes,” he says, still facing the road. “It’s a big estate in the west of Virginia. There’s his house, then a whole load of cabins around the water.”
“Is that where we’re staying?”
“Yeah. When we were kids we all got to pick a spot. Then as we got older we helped him build our cabins.”
“You built your own cabin?” I ask, shocked. “Like with your hands?”
“Yeah. We all built each other’s. We had to get some help for the plumbing and electric, but we did most of the grunt work.”
“Why? Couldn’t he afford to have them built for you?”
His cheeks plump as he smiles. “He liked to keep us busy. Having six boys is… challenging. We didn’t always behave. So when we stayed with him he always gave us projects to do.”
“And the Salinger Olympics,” I add, because I’m still fascinated by this competition.
“Yeah, that too.”
“And you have five brothers,” I say. It’s more of a statement than a question. “Tell me their names.”
“There’s Liam. He’s the closest to me in age. Then there’s Eli and Holden. The four of us have the same mother and father. After that there’s Linc and Brooks. They’re my stepmother’s kids with my dad.”
“The one he’s renewing his vows with?” I ask.
Myles shakes his head. “No, that would be his third wife. Julia.”
I blink because I’m already losing track. “Okay, so he’s been married three times?”
“Four, but he doesn’t talk about his first wife. They were married and divorced within a year.”
“Wow.” I lift a brow. “Your dad’s an Elizabeth Taylor.”
“He loves falling in love.” I can’t see behind his sunglasses, but I swear Myles is rolling his eyes. There’s a tone in his voice I’ve come to recognize. “Staying in love though, that’s tricky.”
“How long have he and Julia been married?”
“Ten years.”
“That’s quite a long time to stay in love,” I point out. Heck, it’s five times longer than any of my relationships. But I don’t tell him that.
“He likes to average ten or fifteen. I guess we’ll see if this one sticks.”
“You’re very cynical,” I point out.
“Yep. I guess I learned that from watching my parents mess up all their relationships.”
I run the tip of my tongue along my bottom lip, trying to find something to say. There’s a bitterness to him that I can understand. Anybody who has a fractious relationship with a parent understands the bitter – but it doesn’t help.
“How close are you and your three oldest brothers?” I ask him, deciding a change of subject is needed.
“Liam and I were really close growing up. He lives in New York, so I see him a lot when I’m there.”
“What does he do?”
“He works in finance.” There’s a truck ahead of us, and Myles indicates left to pass. “Holden is also in New York, too. But Eli lives in Boston right now.”
“What does he do in Boston?”
“Plays hockey.”
“Ice Hockey?” I ask.
“Yep. For the Razors.”
“Wait one minute,” I say, holding my hand up. “Your brother’s a professional hockey player? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know. You didn’t ask.”
“Maybe I should cheer him on at the Olympics,” I muse. “Because he always wins, right?”
“It’s not the Winter Olympics,” Myles replies, smiling. “And no, he doesn’t always win.”
“Who wins the most?”
“We haven’t done this for years. But when we did, I guess I did.”
“So I should support you then?”
He swallows, and I watch the prominent Adam’s apple in his throat bob up and down.
His profile is absolutely delicious. The sun is shining onto his face, making an almost-halo around his square jaw and slightly bumped nose.
I fight the urge to take his sunglasses off – not only because that would make me a weirdo but also because we’d almost certainly end up in a ditch.
“You can support whoever you want.”
The thing is, I know who I want to win. Him. Every time. A few months ago, I would have paid good money to see him fall on his ass. But a few months ago I wouldn’t have been here, sitting in his beautiful car, driving to a family reunion just so he can knock me up while we’re there.
That’s definitely one not to tell the grandkids. How would I explain it anyway? We’re crossing so many lines I’m not even sure where we stand anymore.
Four hours later he takes a right onto a gravel road, surrounded by trees that shoot up and over to form a canopy above our heads.
Dappled sunshine fights its way through the leaves, and the highway suddenly feels a long way away.
He’s slowed down and I swear I can hear the chirping of birds, even though his engine probably drowns out the sounds of nature.
Then, just as suddenly as we drove into it, we’re out of the forest, and I have to blink to adjust my eyesight. Ahead of us there are acres of green grass and rolling hills, and on top of one is a beautiful house that looks like it belongs in one of those upmarket lifestyle magazines.
“Misty Lakes,” Myles says, as though I don’t realize that this beautiful piece of architecture is his dad’s home.
“Where are the lakes?” I ask him, because there’s no sign of glinting water from here.