“I don’t want to tell them until I have everything I need to nail my sister’s asshole soon-to-be-ex.”
“Are you always the family fixer?” she asked.
He shrugged. Which was a yes, and something deep in her gut twinged. Suddenly she felt like that once-homeless eight-year-old clutching her backpack with everything she possessed in the world, waiting for her guardians to realize what everyone always did eventually—that she was unfixable.
The waitress came by and offered them dessert. They ordered a brownie and ice cream to share.
“You still thinking of sticking around Tahoe?” she asked, digging into the brownie, dragging it through the ice cream.
He looked out at the lake. “I told myself I didn’t miss it here. But lately, when I think of this place, I feel an ache. I keep brushing it off, but since I’ve been home, it’s only gotten stronger. I think it’s an ache to be back here.”
She knew that ache, knew it well. She just didn’t know where her home was.
“Jane.”
She looked up.
“Your turn. How was your day?”
“Mostly filled with ski-related incidents. Oh, but I did meet another new friend. There’s a new hospital volunteer, and he came out to each clinic to leave books for the waiting rooms. He’s going to be starting a small library for each location. He wants to follow a theme each month, and he’s starting with wilderness and exploration. He even had cute pop-up books for kids. Such a sweet, kind man.”
“Wilderness and exploration,” Levi repeated in an oddly strangled voice. “And I suppose also the history of the region.”
“Yes! How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.” He took a long pull of his beer and shook his head. “My mom’s been demon-dialing me. They’re getting antsy, wanting to know if you’re coming to the anniversary dinner.”
“Oh.” She bit her lower lip. “I can’t think of a good excuse not to.”
He laughed.
“It’s not funny! But I promised, so yes, I’m coming to dinner. I should bring something.”
“Bring something?”
“Yes! Your real girlfriend wouldn’t just show up empty-handed at her first dinner with your parents. She’d bring something that she thought would mean something to them, a sort of a please-like-me gift.”
“Not necessary,” he said.
“It is! Help me. Can I bring something for the meal? Wine? Dessert?”
“Well . . .” He thought about it. “My mom’s a great cook, but not a great baker.”
“Okay,” Jane said, hoping her panic wasn’t showing. She was a shit baker. “I’ll bake . . . something. I’ll get a recipe from Charlotte.”
“It’s only fair that I help,” he said on a smile.
“Are you looking for pretend date number three?”
“Yes. Just name the day and time and I’ll be there.”
She’d never brought a guy home before. Not that she had a home, but she did have Charlotte and Cat, and their opinions mattered to her. She nodded, and he smiled. Then he leaned in and kissed her, his hand sliding up her throat, his fingertips sinking into her hair, his thumb gliding along her jaw. He tasted like hopes and dreams and brownies, and she was breathless when he pulled back.
“Was that pretend too?” he asked, voice low and husky.
She had to clear her throat to talk. “Extremely pretend.”