“You’re sleeping at your parents’ place?”
“Is that a problem?”
It annoys me slightly that he doesn’t see the inherent problem, but considering the fact that we’ve spent the last eight hours stuck in a car together, I’m willing to bet I’m being a little overly sensitive. And by overly, I mean a lot.
“Um. Well, I guess not. I just sort of assumed you’d stay over at my place since we’re engaged now and we already live together.”
“I didn’t think your parents would be exactly thrilled with the idea of me staying over.” Smith cups my face and kisses me again. “Plus, I thought you and your sister might want a girls’ night or something. You two barely talk anymore.”
He’s right, which isn’t helpful, because I really prefer it when he’s wrong.
Phoebe and I stayed in touch pretty regularly while she was at Princeton after I left, but once she graduated, she started working for our father and our weekly calls became infrequent at best. She got busy, and I . . . well . . . I got tired of hearing her talk about the place our father always wanted us to work at together.
“Fine.” I kiss Smith slowly, savoring every second his lips are on mine. “But if shit hits the fan, you better come get me out of the tree house. Got it?”
“I’ll be there with your girl Vermouth. Promise.”
Stepping into my parents’ home is like opening a window to an alternate reality where nothing changes. The same food that we’ve eaten at Thanksgiving for as long as I can remember is arranged on the buffet table like always. Tiny place cards with our names on them mark the same seats we’ve sat in since my sister and I were old enough to not be in high chairs. Even the flower arrangements—a medley of red roses, chrysanthemums, and sunflowers—stay the same. It kind of feels like the only thing that’s different is me.
“There’s my lucky Penny!” Nana Rosie’s voice echoes through the foyer. “Put those bags down and let me get a look at you, darling girl.”
I set my bags down carefully and make a beeline for my grandmother. Like the house, she doesn’t change, but with her, I don’t mind it one bit. In fact, I prefer it. I stretch out my arms to hug her. “I’ve missed you, Nana.”
“Wait one minute now.” Nana’s eyes narrow. “What is that I see on your finger, my dear?”
Shit.
“Nothing.” I shove both hands in the pockets of my cardigan like a child who’s just been caught stealing candy from the store counter. “Nothing at all.”
Nana Rosie’s green eyes twinkle with mischief. She gently tugs at my left sleeve until I finally take my hand out and show her my ring.
“This is not nothing, my love.” She holds my hand up to the light, admiring the setting of the simple solitaire. “It’s beautiful.”
“It was Fiona’s ring,” I say proudly.
It’s simple: a gold band and a moonstone solitaire. Nothing flashy like what you might expect from a prolific rock star, but then again, Fiona isn’t a typical woman. Jasper bought her the ring at a London flea market when they were teenagers backpacking through Europe. It’s what the ring symbolizes that I care about. This ring is a part of the Mackenzie family history, and they trusted me with it because Smith chose me.
“I take it your parents don’t know.”
“Not exactly.”
“But you plan on telling them today?”
“Telling who what?” Phoebe’s voice startles me.
I whip around just as she throws her arms around my neck. We hold each other for a moment until our breathing syncs and I can feel her heartbeat against my chest. We used to do this all the time when we were in kindergarten. Phoebe was terrified to go to school. She cried day after day, until finally the teacher asked me if I could figure out a way to settle her. Distractions didn’t work but holding her did. My mother thinks it’s what we must’ve done when we were in the womb. Maybe we did. But I also think that sometimes Phoebe needs to fall apart a little, and she trusts me enough to let her do that.
“I missed you,” I whisper softly. A lump of emotion forms in my throat. “A lot.”
“Me too.” She pulls back. Her hazel eyes are misty like mine. “So, what’s the big secret?”
“This.” I hold up my hand. “I’m engaged.”
I’m not sure what reaction I expected from my sister. She’s always been a little indifferent when it came to me talking about boyfriends and such. I chalked it up to her not being interested in men. She was supportive of me getting back together with Smith but still indifferent. But telling her I’m engaged isn’t the same as telling her I’m back with Smith. An engagement is supposed to be a big deal. It’s the sort of thing that elicits a big reaction, good or bad. Phoebe doesn’t do either. She simply looks at my ring, then looks at me with the blankest of blank stares plastered across her face.