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She nodded. “All in.”
Closing the door, I walked around the hood to my side, sliding in and buckling my seatbelt. Ciara, already buckled, smoothed her hands over the center console, eyes wide as she looked at the screen in front of us. “I’ve never been in a Tesla before,” she said.
I pulled away from the curb, settling into my seat. “It’s a great car, once you get used to the difference in driving. If you’re comfortable with it, we can practice sometime, and then you can drive.”
Her eyes grew even rounder. “I can?”
I shrugged. “Sure, why not? What’s mine is yours. You’ll love it.”
She continued to stroke the leather interior, expression contemplative. “I’m sure I will,” she murmured.
We spent the rest of the short drive chatting amiably about this or that. Ciara disclosed that she’d been working on a new project for her portfolio, and I regaled her with boring details from my job. Before I knew it, we were in the event hall parking lot.
I turned to her. “Now, just to warn you, my cousin Zeke will be here,” I said. “He’s the one I’m trying to make sure doesn’t get oversight of all the Hemingway family holdings. I don’t think we have much to worry about, though. We’re already legally married, so there’s not much he can do at this point. But still.”
She nodded. “Deceive Zeke. Got it.”
I grimaced. “Are you sure you wanna do this? Last chance to back out. Once my family meets you, we’ll have to go through with it. I know I’m asking a lot of you…”
She shook her head. “No backing out now,” she said as she fiddled with her dress. I watched, entranced, as her delicate fingers played with the material.
Shaking my head to snap out of it, I braced my hand on the door. “Okay,” I said. “You ready?”
She smiled her enigmatic half-smile. “More ready than you are,” she said.
I rolled my eyes. “Alright, funny girl, let’s get out of the car.”
I opened my door, rounding the front to open hers, but by the time I got there, she was already out of the car. She grimaced. “Sorry,” she said. “I guess I should have waited until you opened it for me?”
I reached around her and closed her door. “Don’t be sorry,” I said. “If you want to open your own door, you have every right and ability to do so. I just thought it would be a nice gesture. But I’m cool with whatever you want to do. I’m a feminist. Or, as Mack says, a womanist. Is that the right term?”
She looked at me, her mouth twitching. I got the sense that she wanted to laugh. “I’m not sure. But I get it.”
Pretending to be offended, I tucked her hand into the crook of my arm. “Are you laughing at me?” I asked in mock outrage.
“Not laughingatyou—withyou,” she joked.
Patting the arm that held her hand, she looked forward, stepping carefully as we walked up the steps. “It’s cute, really.”
“What is?”
“How nervous you get.” We stopped at the front door, facing each other, and she fixed my tie. “It makes you human.”
As I pondered what she said, the door swung open, and Mack appeared. She glared at me. “You’re late,” she hissed.
Though she was pissed, my sister looked stunning. Of the five of us, she looked the most like Mom, to the point where we had to ask who was who in photos when they were the same age. I felt a pain in my chest, seeing her now, after Mom was no longer with us.
Her dark brown skin glowed against her light pink, floor-length, fitted dress. She wore her long, chunky locs down but away from her face, which was fully made up. I narrowed my eyes at the slit that ran up the dress, just barely stopping myself from reprimanding her for showing so much leg.
She stopped short once she saw that I wasn’t alone. “Who’s this?” she asked me.
I straightened up, feeling my heart patter against my chest bone.First test of the night,I thought.
Of all the siblings, Mack was the most discerning of us. She could spot a lie a mile away, and with good reason—as the sole girl of five kids, she always had to be on the lookout for pranks from her older brothers and twin. While she and I were mostly on the same side, for most things, having to deceiveherwould be tricky. She knew all my tells.
I cleared my throat. “This is Ciara,” I said. “My…girlfriend.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ciara stiffen slightly, but when I looked directly at her, she held a pleasant, serene expression on her face. I wondered to myself what she was thinking or feeling.
