“You’re right,” I admitted.
“If you want me to step in, let me know.”
“They need to hear it from me.”
His warm touch skirted my arms. “What are you going to say?”
“I’ll tell them the truth. You and I are engaged. I’m going to marry you. The date isn’t set, but I’ve said yes. And as for Wade, you will help.”
“I’ll do what you want.” He looked down at his watch. “Someone has crossed the gate line.”
Julia
Van opened the door to the entry and we stepped beyond the glass French doors. Through the sidelights we could gaze out onto the driveway. The SUV was parked facing the south wing, as the doors began to open—three of them. My stomach sank and I reached for Van’s hand. His body stiffened beside mine.
“Fuck,” Van muttered under his breath.
I could barely articulate what was happening. “They brought Skylar.”
My father had said he’d tell him off and now Skylar was with them.
The threesome stood still for a moment on the driveway, doing as I’d done upon my first arrival, taking in the sheer size of Van’s home. As if on cue, the floodlights illuminated the area. I turned to Van in question.
“Light sensor.”
Dad, Mom, and Skylar turned in all directions, squinting as they took in the sudden influx of light.
“I can tell them the invitation is revoked,” Van offered. He squeezed my hand. “If you’re going to marry me, you’ll learn fast; I have no issues with being the asshole.”
My neck straightened. “No. You were right before. I need to face them. I’ve already faced Skylar, but screw him. If two rejections weren’t enough for him” —I was thinking of when I left the ring with the note and then also our conversation at the hotel bar in Ashland— “I’ll be happy to give him a repeat performance.”
As the three of them began to walk toward the solid large door, Van reached for my chin and brought his lips to mine. The kiss was chaste and quick, leaving a smile on my face.
“I have your back, but you don’t need me.”
I blinked away the prickle of tears. “I think I do, Van. I think you’re exactly what I’ve needed. I just didn’t know it.”
He took a deep breath as the chime of the ringing doorbell echoed through the entry and beyond. Taking a step forward, he opened the door. From my perspective, I saw the surprise in the three sets of eyes; undoubtedly, they’d expected someone else, perhaps a housekeeper or maid. That was who would have answered the door at either my parents’ home or Skylar’s parents’.
“Mr. Sherman,” my father said, being the first to speak.
Van took a step back, “Mr. McGrath, Mrs. McGrath...” He paused long enough to punctuate his greeting with an added bit of unease. “...and Mr. Butler.” He nodded toward Skylar. “An unexpected surprise.”
From my vantage, I found it odd the way the three of them were looking at Van, odd and also interesting, as if they were all intimidated by his mere presence. Maybe they were.
Would I feel differently about Van if I’d meet him under different circumstances?
“Mr. Sherman,” they all acknowledged as they came through the door.
My mother was the first to address me, coming closer and wrapping me in an embrace. “I needed to see you.”
“Here I am.”
For the first time I could recall, I found myself skeptical of her glassy eyes and the sincerity in her voice. I couldn’t explain how they felt orchestrated when they never had before, but nevertheless, that’s the way they felt.
She gripped my shoulders, staring directly into my eyes. “We have so many things to discuss.” She peered over her shoulder at Van and back. “Come with us. These are family matters.”
My gaze met Van’s. It wasn’t a lingering stare or even long enough to enjoy the depth of his emerald orbs with their flickering gold flecks. It was enough to bolster my strength.
I opened the French doors to the house. “You’re here. Come inside, we can talk here—and once we’re married, Van will be family. Skylar on the other hand...” I let the rest go unsaid.
Mom went inside.
Standing my ground as sentry, I waited as Mom’s blue eyes darted from here to there as she took in the surroundings. Van’s home wasn’t as opulently decorated as our home. The limestone structure in Lincoln Park was maintained as if it were a stop on the historical-house tour. It wasn’t. My mother would loathe having strangers enter her home and trample her expensive rugs. Yet the contrast was as obvious as cold versus warm.
Where my childhood home appeared cold and staged to an outsider, it was impossible not to feel the metaphoric warmth of Van’s home, the woodwork, furnishings, and literal warmth of the huge fireplace.
Dad stopped before passing me, reaching for my hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’ve missed you, little girl.”
His familiar address wasn’t upsetting.
Some things went without saying. One day when I was a grandmother, I’d still be my father’s little girl.
I held my breath as the last of the trio passed me. Skylar’s lips appeared glued together in a straight line as he walked past Van and then me, his blue eyes fixed on the room ahead.
Van’s hand came to the small of my back, finding its way between the sweater and tank top beneath. “You’ve got this,” he whispered.
Soon the five of us were in the living room.
“Please, have a seat,” I said, “and I suppose if you plan to stay, you can take off your coats.”
“I’ll take them,” Van offered, gathering the coats and laying them upon a chair closer to the entry.
His choice of location was all the better for them to grab on their way out. The thought made me smile.
Them leaving.
Van and I alone.
“Surely, you have help,” Mom said as she handed Van her coat. “This is too much house for one man.”
Van grinned as he replied. “Thankfully, my lonely days and nights are over.”
Mom’s neck straightened.
I’d been too busy watching her to see Dad’s or Skylar’s response.
“Mr. Sherman,” Dad began.
Van again gestured toward the sofas before the fireplace. “Please, as Julia said, sit. It’s Christmas, and I’m sure you have places to be. As you can tell by the delicious aroma in the air, Julia and I have dinner waiting.” He shrugged. “Had we had advance notice, we would have had more food for us all to enjoy.”
So that’s why Van started the meal.
I could live with that.
Mom, Dad, Van, and I sat as Skylar, still wearing his overcoat, walked to the tall windows. The bay beyond was veiled in darkness, yet the scene seemed to hold his attention. I had a sudden memory of the smudge that Margaret had found so unusual, and in a childish way, I wished for its reappearance, right where Skylar was standing.
“This recent change in plans came suddenly,” Mom said.
I sat taller. “Skylar’s impending parenthood—is that what you’re talking about?”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Skylar turn. His voice boomed throughout the open space. “She lied, Julia. Beth isn’t pregnant.”