And every time I looked at Hutton, my belly swooshed and my mouth curled into a smile and my heart fluttered wildly. He was so handsome and serious sitting there in his light blue button-down, frowning at his screen and sometimes tugging on his hair, just like he used to when we were teenagers studying calculus. I could hardly wait to go to bed tonight, change that expression to something different, hear that deep voice in my ear again, feel his skin on mine. Who would have thought our sexual chemistry would be so good after so many years of being just friends?
Around six, Hutton closed his computer and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “Want one?”
“No, thanks. But maybe you could open that bottle of Valpolicella for me?”
He opened the wine and poured me a glass. “Anything else I can do to help?”
“Nope. Just keep me company.” I set the plate of vegetarian charcuterie I’d assembled earlier on the island. “Have a beer and a snack and hear me out.”
He straddled a stool at the island and tipped up his beer. “Hear you out? That sounds ominous.”
“Not really.” I took a sip of my wine. “I just want to tell you about a little party.”
One of his brows arched. “What party?”
“The surprise party your mom is throwing for us on the patio at Abelard Vineyards the last Saturday in July.”
As soon as the word surprise came out of my mouth, he was shaking his head. “No fucking way.”
“The patio is really lovely,” I went on smoothly, sliding the onions from the cutting board into the pan.
“No.”
“And the best part is, capacity on the patio is limited to thirty, so it has to be small.” The onions began to sizzle.
“It’s not the patio I’m objecting to. It’s the surprise. Also the party.”
“But Hutton, we’re not even supposed to know about it—at least if Winnie plans it at Abelard, we’ll have all the details in advance. We’ll know the terrain, the menu, the timeline—all the relevant details. Even if Winnie pretended Abelard had no available dates, your mom would not give up,” I said emphatically, facing him again. “She’ll go somewhere else and we’ll have no clue when it’s coming.”
Hutton grumbled something I couldn’t make out and took another swallow from his beer.
“Our families are happy for us, Hutton.” I softened my voice. “People want to celebrate. We know it’s not really happening, but they don’t.”
“I know, but . . . a party? That was not part of my plan.” He shook his head. “This engagement was supposed to get people off my back, not invite them to pile on.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
He shoved a piece of baguette in his mouth and chewed grumpily. “When is it?”
“July 30th.”
“Two days after my testimony.”
“I realized that after Winnie told me the date,” I said, applying a dry rub to his steak. “I know the timing stinks, but that was the one day Abelard could fit us in. They had a cancellation.”
He brooded silently for a moment, watching my fingers on the meat. “You’re right. My mother is not going to drop it.”
“We’re not even supposed to know about it.”
He tipped up his beer again and looked at me. “Do you want this party?”
I flipped the steak and put the rub onto the other side. “It might be kind of fun. But I feel bad that your parents are going to spend money on it.”
“Listen, my mother has been trying to throw me a party since I was twelve and I’ve said no every time. No birthday parties, no graduation parties, nothing. She will not care about the cost.”
“So is that a yes?”
“Do I have a choice?”
I laughed. “Not really. Unless you want to call the engagement off before you go to D.C. End things sooner rather than later.”
“No,” he said quickly. “I can deal with the party. Let’s stick to the original plan.”
After dinner, Hutton had some work to finish, and I wanted to edit the photos I’d taken and create some content to post this week. We sat at the kitchen table with our laptops in comfortable silence.
“It’s like the old days.” I nudged his leg with my foot. “Sitting here working next to you like this.”
“It’s better,” he argued, tipping his chair back on two legs.
I laughed and tucked a strand of hair that had come loose from my ponytail behind my ear. “How so?”