Silence stretches for a few moments before I finally choke out, “Yes.”
It is small, it is unsure, it is pained—but it is there.
I have no choice. He is putting me on the spot here. How could I have said no, in front of his entire family?
Everything happens fast afterward. Dom swoops me from the floor, spinning me in the air as if I weigh nothing. Our kiss is tender and brief. Gemma and Brad hurry to congratulate us.
“Welcome to the family.” She holds my cheeks and smacks a wet kiss on either side of them.
“Been meaning to find an excuse to buy a new suit for a while now.” Brad winks.
I search for Joe. I find him in the exact spot he was earlier, on the recliner. He hasn’t moved an inch. His jaw is locked. He appears calm, but underneath the surface, I can feel that he is shattered. I’m shattered too. But I’m also happy. And there’s a selfish, horrible part of me that is happy Joe can never escape my proximity now. We’ll be bound forever soon.
“Seph, come congratulate your brother,” Gemma urges. She grabs Joe’s hand and tugs him to us. He doesn’t budge. Dom tucks me under his arm, cocking his head sideways.
“All good, bro?” he asks.
Joe flicks his lighter back and forth, his thumb running over the flame. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“Treat her well.” He says that in a way that implies Dom hasn’t so far, which is completely untrue. Dom has been great. “I mean it.”
Dom bows his head a little. I don’t understand this exchange, and it unsettles me.
Joe’s gaze drifts to me. There is something inside his eyes. Something I can’t read, but it tells me that he’s had enough. That he loves his brother dearly but that this charade needs to stop.
For a moment, I think it is all going to be over. That Joe is going to uncover what happened between us. That they’ll kick me out of their home, and I’ll have to walk my way back to Salem. But then Joe stands up, grabs his beer, and leaves.
“I’m going out for a smoke.”
An hour later, Dom and his father go into the kitchen to tidy up while Gemma takes a phone call on the patio. Dom asks if I can bring him his tennis equipment from the closet in his bedroom. Apparently, he has a game next week. I want to tell him he has no business picking up tennis when he barely has time to sleep, but I stop myself. I’m going to argue with him to death, but not in front of his family. The weight of the diamond ring on my engagement finger comes with newfound authority. I intend to sit Dom down when we get back to Salem, look at his schedule, and make him trim the fat. I get that he wants to eat the world, but right now, the world is eating him.
I also intend to make it clear that we are not getting married this year. It would be unfair on both of us.
When I get to the hallway on the second floor, I pass by Joe’s room. The door is ajar. I can see him lying on his bed. I can’t help myself. I push the door open and peek inside.
I’ve dreamed of this moment daily. At some points in my life—hourly. To step into Joe’s domain. Now that I’m finally here, bittersweet satisfaction washes over me. It is exactly how I’ve imagined it. The black-accented wall, the band posters （the Kinks, Oasis, Duran Duran）。 The bookshelves （Kerouac, Ginsberg, Burroughs, Bukowski）。
“Joe?”
No answer.
“Are you ignoring me?”
Clearly, he is, because all I can see are his socked feet moving to a soundless rhythm on his bed. I push the door open all the way, frustrated. “Very mature, asshole. We were literally in front of your parents. What did you expect me to—”
That’s when I see that he has his earbuds tucked into his ears. He plucks one out. His eyes hood into dangerously angry slits. Wrath in the air. But he is not the only one who is angry. I’m pissed. Pissed that I said yes because of peer pressure. Pissed that Dom got his way somehow again. Pissed that if I only felt toward Dom a fraction of what I feel toward his baby brother, none of this would be an issue.
Pissed at Dad and Renn, who are MIA again.
And at myself, for taking advantage of Nora’s good heart and not telling her to just move already.
“Wrong brother. The bed you’re looking for is next door down.”
“Stop.” I storm into his bedroom without permission.
“Stop what?” His tone is cold. “You didn’t come here for me, did you? Because . . .” He hops off the bed, then plucks his keys from his study desk and shoves them into his pocket. “I have a date to go on. Decided to give it another go with Presley. She does give good head.”