Today it’s just family. Plus me, my mother, and Damian. Because his three granddaughters are all married, it’s still not a small group. There are enough people for me to get lost in the crowd, which is the way I prefer it. I stick by my mother, listening to Pop tell stories of the old days and laughing at Chelsea’s banter with her handsome, fortysomething husband. Damian’s attention is dominated by Sam, whom he’s meeting for the first time. She’s also getting her PhD in English, so they clearly have a lot to talk about.
Sam is pretty—all the Grayson granddaughters are—but she’s as low-maintenance as me with long hair pulled back in a loose braid, simple clothes, and no makeup. She seems quiet. Maybe a little shy. But her face lights up when she talks to Damian about books and research.
The group breaks up as we clear away the dinner dishes and Pop and Melissa go into the kitchen to get dessert ready. Since Sam is still talking to Damian, I leave them to it, drifting away and pretending I don’t see his quick, observant glances in my direction, like he’s trying to read my mind.
Damian has no business reading my mind. No one does. My private thoughts are for me alone. It’s always been that way.
Dessert is peach cobbler and homemade ice cream, and Pop tells everyone to come into the kitchen to get theirs whenever they’re ready for it. I let the others go first, but there’s still plenty left when I scoop out my portion, making sure not to let the peaches in my section slide away.
I’m working on retrieving one when a voice says at my shoulder, “Sam thinks we’re in a fight.”
I jerk in surprise, dropping the large spoon and whirling. Damian is standing right there, gazing down at me with sober eyes. Way too close. “What?”
“She asked if we’re in a fight.”
“Why would she think that? She’s never even seen us together before.”
“I don’t know. But I thought I’d let you know. At least one person is picking up on the vibes.”
I’m worried and confused and unsure about what to do with that information, so naturally I take it out on Damian since he feels like the source of everything. “There are no vibes,” I hiss.
He’s cool and clipped, still holding back the warmth that should be radiating out from the cracks in his perfect control. “There are definitely vibes.”
“There are not! What vibes are you talking about?”
He reaches over to brace a hand on the counter, moving his body even closer to mine. His eyes are almost green in the artificial light. Vivid and unnerving and way too observant. “You know exactly what vibes. You’re upset about this morning. Maybe you’re angry with me. I’m not sure. But you’re pretending nothing is wrong, and it’s not working.”
“I’m not angry,” I grit out.
He gives a dry huff. “Not an entirely convincing claim.”
I wish he weren’t so perfectly composed. So unflappable. So articulate and untouchable. It makes me feel like more of a mess. “Well, I’m angry now since you’re being obnoxious. I assume you told Sam that nothing’s wrong.”
“Of course I did. I made up an excuse. It’s not a big deal. But it should be a sign that our performance here is going to work better if we can talk about what happened.”
“We both know what happened.”
“Do we? Because I’m still not exactly sure.”
I almost choke on my surprise and indignation. “What aren’t you sure about? We started to do some stuff, and then I decided I didn’t want to. It was pretty straightforward. I’m sorry if you were disappointed or if it was a blow to your manly powers of seduction, but I got caught up in the moment. It happens. When I thought about it, I realized I didn’t want it. That happens too.”
All of that is perfectly true. I’m speaking in a low voice so no one else can hear, but it does feel better to get it said. To shape a coherent narrative around what still feels like a wild tangle of emotions and sensations.
“I know it happens. And it’s fine if you don’t want to do anything physical with me. It doesn’t explain why you’re so upset.” He’s talking so low and leaning so close that his breath wafts against my face.
I’m pulled toward him in the same way I always am. That bone-deep attraction. But it’s more than that too. Some sort of deeper magnetism that’s endlessly