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“What’s so special about…? Oh. Okay.” Archer looks at the table she’s set up and presses his lips together. He’s been so much grumpier than usual since he learned about our father’saffair that his weirdness barely registers with me. I just feel sorry for him.
I have to admit, my sister sets a pretty table. Purple orchids in bud vases sit at each place, and a drawing pad and pens are set up for Fiona, whose voice I can hear at the bottom of the stairs.
“Last one up’s a rotten egg!” Her voice rings out before the pounding of feet on the stairs. If I had one-tenth of that girl’s energy, I could move mountains. A moment later, the messy cascade of blond hair appears at the top of the stairs, followed by Jax and Ruby, who look worse for the wear after chasing her.
“Okay, that makes seven out of eight.” I check my phone for a text from Colin.
“Do you have an ETA?” Beatrix asks.
“No, but that’s normal for him when he gets wrapped up in something at work. We can start without him, and I’ll text him to shoot us a smoke signal when he’s close.”
Everyone takes their seats around the table except Beatrix, who looks down at her own phone with a frown.
“Everything okay?”
She lets out a long breath. “Just an issue with the private party. Apparently, they’re upset about something.” She frowns and looks mournfully in the direction of the private terrace. “I just don’t have it in me at the end of a long day to deal with it…”
The fixer in me springs into action, newly empowered by the idea that my siblings do think I’m capable and pushing myself to own it. “Let me handle it. Go have a glass of wine. I’ll make sure everyone’s happy over there and be back in a sec.”
She looks gratefully at me and nods. “I could use a break. Thanks, sis.”
I straighten the neckline of the red sundress I put on earlier with Colin in mind, knowing how much he’ll enjoy taking it off me in one swift motion, and tuck my hair behind my ears. I know I don’t have a prayer of looking as polished as my sister,but I’m put together in my own way, and it’s about time I started believing that.
The private terrace is separated by a wall of potted plants and three steps to another level. When I slip past a little olive tree in its terra cotta pot, I have my eyes peeled for some sort of entitled troublemakers, and I’m ready to conquer whatever issue at hand.
Only…there are no troublemakers. Unless I count Colin, who looks like the very best kind of trouble, sitting at a table for two in a crisp navy sport coat over a pressed white shirt. With his hair slicked back, mischievous eyes sparkling, and the hint of a smile, he’s everything I want to have for dinner.
“My family’s eating on the regular terrace tonight,” I explain. “There’s a private party here.”
I expect him to stand and follow me back to where my siblings are probably digging into the charcuterie platter and fighting over the aged gouda, but he doesn’t budge.
“Yeah. This is the private party. Table for two.”
He stands and walks over to me, extending his hand. When I reach out to take it, I find my own hand shaking. “Just…us?”
My brain can’t compute what’s happening. I don’t understand why we’re having dinner here when the rest of my family is a few yards away. It feels momentous, but I know we don’t have anything to celebrate. We’ve only just figured out how to make our relationship work. We’ve only committed to that.
And yet…that feels important.
“Just us.”
“Okay…” I glance in the direction of where I can hear Beatrix’s cackle over the din of the rest of the diners. I feel a little wistful to be missing the fun, but when I look back at Colin, something shifts inside me.
This is where I want to be.
“Is it okay?” He guides me to my chair and pulls it out for me. Before he pushes it in, he leans down and kisses me. Soft, just a hint at what his kisses are capable of eliciting from me.
“Yes, it’s very okay,” I tell him as he walks around to his side of the table.
“Good. I just thought…we should have some time alone. We can join your family in a bit, but I was hoping we could just be us first.”
“I like that.”
“I’m working on balance, so maybe this is what it looks like.” Colin takes a bottle of sauvignon blanc from the bucket where it’s chilling and pours each of us a glass. He lifts his for a toast, but instead of clinking my glass with a quick “cheers,” he clears his throat.
“Balance is important. And I like looking at you, so we’re all good here,” I tell him.
“Junebug, I never thought I’d find true love. I didn’t think I was even worthy of it…” He suddenly looks younger, more vulnerable, with his hair slicked back and his face clean-shaven in the moonlight.
