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“Did I…” I begin.
“You look great,” he says.
“OK,” I say.
“OK,” he says, peeling his gaze off me with difficulty. “Listen, about tonight. It’s really not a big deal. My family’s pretty chill, although my brothers can be annoying sometimes.”
“It’ll be weird seeing your twin there,” I say.
“Why?” Paused at a stoplight, Nolan nudges me in the side. “Afraid you’ll mix us up?”
“Oh yes,” I say in a put-on terrified voice. “I’ve had nightmares about it.”
Nolan just chuckles. “You’ll see. We still look alike, yeah, but our hair is different. Plus, he’ll be the one mooning over the brunette.”
“You don’t like her?”
Nolan considers this. “No, I like Kyra fine. She’s good for Landon, really, she and Madison. Just… after he hooked up with her, he changed… a lot. Hardly has time for anything anymore and I rarely see him. Plus, marriage seems like a sham game.”
“Says the man who’s getting engaged.”
“Fake engaged,” he says, stabbing out his finger for emphasis.
I don’t know why, but something in me folds into itself at his words.
Still, I can’t stop myself from pressing, “So, you don’t believe in marriage?”
A glance over finds Nolan’s hazel eyes darkened, his jaw set. “Not from what I’ve seen of it. Sure, my brothers are happy now, but…” He shrugs. “Who knows.”
A few minutes later, we pull up to a stucco Spanish-style house that’s blooming with tropical plants of every kind.
“Harley has a bit of a green thumb,” Nolan explains. “How she finds time to do it between her cinematography and raising little Dakota is beyond me, but she does. This is her and my brother Greyson’s place, by the way.”
The door opens to showcase a smiling blonde. “Hey! And don’t worry, all the kids are with our favorite babysitter, who also happens to be my best friend—Hannah.”
“Phew.” Nolan wipes imaginary sweat off his forehead. “I was having nightmares about that.”
She chuckles, glaring at him, before her green-eyed gaze lands on me. “Hey! I’m Harley.” She sticks out a tan hand.
“Sierra,” I say.
“You must be an interesting sort, to have caught the eye of our Nolan here,” she says, grinning. “He’s an oddball, that’s for sure.”
I laugh. It’s odd, but being around Harley reminds me of kindergarten, like we could talk about just about anything. “You don’t know the half of it.”
Inside, giant-leaf pothos frame the entranceway. Harley strides down the hallway barefoot, her bohemian faded blue and orange lily-print robe fluttering behind her. “Greyson! They’re here.”
“You’re the last to arrive, Nolan,” Greyson says, coming down a staircase that’s wound with ivy.
Nolan just shoots him a winning smile. “Last to arrive—and first to get this party started! Greyson, this is Sierra, my girlfriend.”
I swing him a questioning look—Since when are we putting a label on this?
His smile takes on a strained quality—Just go with it.
I guess he meant it when he said that he might use this opportunity to bring up the fake engagement. All at once I feel caught between two worlds—like a statue on display that’s expected to somehow talk and engage and react too.
“Nice to meet you,” Greyson says, shaking my hand.
He’s got the same killer jawline as Nolan, although his dark hair is curlier and much shorter, while his eyes are two icy blue shards, that soften when they land on Harley.
“Hope you like spaghetti,” Harley says, already sauntering into the kitchen, her blonde shoulder-length braids bobbing with each step. “Because that’s what we’re having. Although I might have some leftover casserole I could heat up…”
“Spaghetti sounds great,” I say.
Inside, the also plant-filled kitchen leads onto a monstera-bordered dining area, where a long table has some people already sitting at it.
“That sad chap there at the end, that’s my brother Emerson,” Nolan says, gesturing to a handsome blond man with, sure enough, sad blue eyes.
“Thanks,” Emerson says, deadpan, although he smiles politely at me.
As we shake hands, Nolan adds, “This man here is all set to be America’s next top piano player. Don’t sulk at me like that, brother, I brought you a gift.”
He takes an old-looking pamphlet out of his bag that brightens Emerson’s face. “How’d you find this?”
Nolan draws himself up importantly. “I have my connections.” He grins. “OK, OK, it was eBay. Who knew some old piano knickknack could be so expensive.”
“Some old piano knickknack,” Emerson sputters, although he’s still smiling as he gives what I can now see is a music booklet a little wave. “This is Mozart’s 35th symphony, printed over 200 years ago!”
“Yeah, yeah, I just saw it was old and piano-y, so I figured you’d be into it,” Nolan says with a dismissive wave, already taking something else out of his bag. “Now, for the host and hostess…”
“You didn’t!” Harley exclaims, accepting the orange-colored bottle with a grin.
“You didn’t,” Greyson says, with much less enthusiasm.
“It wasn’t easy finding it, let me tell you,” Nolan declares with a grin. “I didn’t even know orange wine was a thing until you told me about it.”
