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Tristan looks up from his phone. He says nothing for a few minutes, and I wonder if I haven’t probed too much too quickly. He clicks his cell phone off and puts a hand on his chin.
“Are your parents alive, Layla?”
Oh, you have no idea.
“Yes, they are.” I nod.
“In New Brooks?” He frowns.
“Uh, no. Somewhere in New Jersey.” I feel like shit for lying.
“Do you have a good relationship with them?” He massages his thumb.
“Well, my dad had me out of wedlock, and my real mom died in childbirth. I had to grow up in a house where my dad saw me as a mistake, and my stepmom, well, she saw me as a stain on her family. So, what do you think?”
The words come out before I can stop them. I realize I haven’t ever said those words out loud to anyone. How long have I been holding onto that? Maybe I do need therapy.
“Well, shit,” he suddenly smiles, his lips curling pleasantly. “I guess I’m not the only one with shitty family drama.”
I laugh along with him, more because he has no clue it’s the same shitty family.
Tristan raises his glass. “To shitty family drama.”
“To shitty family drama.” We clink.
Our eyes meet over the rim of our glasses, and we share a quiet moment of solidarity. For the first time since I met him, I can relate to him. Still, I have a job and a family to answer to.
***
Two hours later, we touched down in North Carolina. The plane slowed, and we unclipped our seatbelts. When we descended from the plane, another car was waiting to take us to New Brooks, but this time, Tristan collected the key to drive us.
“Back to driving, I see,” I say as I settle into the front seat beside him.
Tristan throws his jacket onto the backseat and clips his seatbelt. “I came to New Brooks for the semblance of a normal life. What’s more normal than driving oneself?”
The engine roars to life as I nod affirmatively to what he’s just said. As we get on the road, which smells like pine, my mind drifts back to Luke, and I wonder why he’s so antagonistic towards me.
“Your friend, Luke—” I watch Tristan to gauge his reaction, “—he came at me pretty hard. Does he know about the arrangement?”
“You mean, does he know we aren’t together for real?” Tristan doesn’t look away from the winding road.
His words hurt me despite them being factual.
“Yeah, that.” I pick at my nails.
“He knows. We came up with the plan together.” He expertly navigates a curve in the road.
“Like you guys chose me together?” I feel a frown coming on my face as I imagine them sitting around a table, weighing the pros and cons of choosing me among other options.
“Well, no.” He glances at me quickly. “I chose you. Luke didn’t know you, but I knew if this was going to work, it had to be you.”
The way he said I makes my frown disappear. The image I had earlier seems so silly now.
“Why me?” The wind blows my hair into my face, and I pull the strands apart. “The one-night stand?”
“Ruby liked you.” He shrugged. “That was enough.”
I can’t shake the feeling that he isn’t telling me the whole truth, but I say nothing else. I won’t push. At least, not about this. It might be the breeze, but I suddenly feel tired and sleepy. The nausea’s still in my throat despite nothing triggering it.
