Chapter Thirteen Amelia

THIRTEEN

Text messages from Frederick J. Fitzwilliam to Reginald Cleaves

FREDERICK: Sorry for my delayed response. Cassie and I are enjoying ourselves immensely while away and I have not been checking my messages.

FREDERICK: Anyway, no: I will NOT give you “kissing advice for humans”

FREDERICK: I am not that crass. Additionally, what are you THINKING.

Amelia

The party was already in full swing by the time my uncle Bill opened the door and invited us to come in.

Reggie surveyed the crowded room, still holding my hand. I refused to think about how well our hands fit together, or just how nice it felt to be touching him. I noticed, with no small degree of envy, how at ease he seemed here. Like he wasn’t at all nervous about how we barely knew each other but were about to try and convince a bunch of people we were dating anyway.

That made one of us.

I scanned the crowd for my immediate family and saw Sam chatting with his husband amid a throng of people I’d never seen before in my life.

When Sam saw us, he smiled, and motioned for us to join him.

“Leave it to Aunt Sue to throw a party for half of Winnetka and say it’s only for close family and friends,” he said, shaking his head. His gaze darted between me and Reggie. “Is this your—”

“Reasonably serious boyfriend who Amelia’s been dating for exactly six weeks, no more, no less? Yes.” Reggie stuck out his hand for Sam to shake. “I’m Reginald.”

Sam blinked at him in confusion for a few moments, taking in Reggie’s riot of a coat, the bright blue of his eyes, and his serious expression. He hesitantly clasped his outstretched hand.

Then dropped it again almost immediately.

He must have been as surprised by Reggie’s perennially cold touch as I was at first.

“ Reginald ,” Sam repeated, as if trying to place the name. Then he snapped his fingers. “Of course. You’re Frederick and Cassie’s friend, right?”

“That’s me,” Reggie confirmed. “And you must be Sam.”

“Yes.” He glanced between Reggie and me. “Amelia, can I talk to you for a second?”

Sam pulled me to the side without Reggie before I could reply. His eyes, usually so warm and kind, were sharp as steel as they darted back and forth between the two of us.

“What’s going on?” I asked, alarmed.

“He seems nice enough,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “I know Frederick through Cassie, and he’s one of the good ones. If Reginald is friends with him there’s probably no reason for me to worry about this. But if your date does anything… strange …will you let me know?”

Unbelievable.

Was Sam seriously doing the whole overprotective brother thing right now? Here, at a family party, where the most dangerous thing that might happen to me would probably involve Aunt Sue’s dairy-laden catering?

“Sam,” I said, exasperated. “Please calm down.”

Sam wasn’t deterred. “Promise me.”

I threw up my hands. “Fine,” I said. “If Reggie does something strange , I’ll let you know. But I already told you he’s not my real boyfriend. After tonight, I won’t see him again until Gretchen’s wedding.” I folded my arms across my chest. “After the wedding, I’ll never see him again at all.”

“Amelia.”

Sam and I turned our heads in unison at the sound of Reggie’s voice. Wow, he moved quietly. And fast. A moment ago, he’d been over there standing by a large potted plant. Now he held up a plate of food in one hand and a glass of white wine in the other.

“This is for you,” he continued. “I don’t know when the kitchen staff planned to serve these mushroom things, but when I glared at them, they handed over a plate.” He smirked. “I have an excellent glare.”

“Kitchen staff?” I blinked at him. “Do you mean my aunt and cousins?”

He shrugged. “Not sure. Whoever was preparing the food.”

Sam muttered something under his breath I didn’t quite catch, though it sounded a bit like I cannot believe I am going through this again. In a louder voice he said, only to me: “I have to find Aunt Sue. My firm agreed to help her make some changes to her will and we wanted to hammer out the details before Tuesday. I’ll call you soon, okay?”

Reggie and I both watched as he made his way out of the room.

“I don’t think he likes me,” Reggie mused.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” I said. “He’s just going through an overprotective phase right now.”

“No,” Reggie said. “I think it is true. It’s fine. I get that a lot.”

His sad smile shouldn’t have tugged at my heart. He was a stranger. But something about seeing that flicker of pain cross his face did something to me. I wanted to reach up and smooth away the furrows in his brow with the tips of my fingers.

“I’m sure everything will be fine with Sam,” I said.

I hoped it would be, anyway. The last thing I needed was for my brother to be all weird about my fake boyfriend right before Gretchen’s wedding.

·······

The wine was good, and I drank down most of my glass in a couple of swallows. I hadn’t been in a particular hurry to start drinking, but now that a glass of wine had presented itself, I realized it was a passable way to calm myself down.

“Do you want a drink, too?” I asked Reggie. The sharp edges of my nerves were already starting to blur. “Something to eat?”

His eyes widened. He whipped his head around several times, as though trying to make certain no one had heard me. “Later,” he murmured, voice pitched low. “There are too many other people around.”

He said it so earnestly, the first hint of what sounded like actual anxiety in his voice since we’d gotten here. He was taking all this so seriously. It was sweet.

“I don’t think anybody would think less of you if you got a drink.” I nodded towards the kitchen, where a group of men I vaguely recognized as second cousins were taking beers from the fridge. I was amused to see that some of them were clearly underage—including Alex, a teenager I vaguely recognized as one of my youngest half cousins—but I was hardly going to rat anybody out at a family party. “See? People have already gotten started.”

Reggie stared at me incredulously for a moment, then turned his head in the direction of the kitchen. When he saw my cousins, he huffed a laugh.

“I suppose they have started drinking,” he said. And then added, unnecessarily, “Drinking beer , that is.” He inclined his head a little closer to me. His breath was cool and sweet on my cheek. “Listen, Amelia…”

He looked like he was about to say more, but my parents chose that moment to appear at my side. Reggie immediately swallowed whatever it was he’d been about to say. He pressed his lips together into a faint smile, schooling his features into an expression of polite interest.

“Well, hello,” he said, turning to them. “You must be Mr. and Mrs. Collins.”

Mom was beaming. She wore a pink dress cinched at the waist with little appliqué flowers across the neckline. It flattered her. I’d have to remember to compliment her on it later, when my heart wasn’t pounding so hard from nerves it felt like it was about to burst out of my chest.

“And you must be Reggie,” she said. She looked from me to him and then back again, her smile growing. “I’m so glad you were able to join us on such short notice.”

Reggie plastered on a brilliant smile. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” he said. “Work is always busy this time of year, but when Amelia told me how important this event was to her, I knew I had to make room in my schedule for it.” And then, turning to Dad, he added, “Especially since Amelia told me there’d be an actual, living, breathing historian here. European history at the turn of the twentieth century, right?”

Boy, was he ever laying it on thick. Dad looked delighted. “In the flesh,” he said, happily. “Though I’m retired now.”

“I would love to chat with you sometime about your research. I’m a bit of a history buff myself.” And then, as if only just remembering I was still there, he turned to me and added, “Assuming that’s okay with you, of course.”

The idea that my dad might be chatting later with my fake boyfriend was mildly terrifying. But Dad was looking at me so expectantly I couldn’t help but smile. “Of course.”

“The kids never showed much interest in what their old dad did for work,” Dad explained.

Reggie looked sympathetic. “Their loss, I can assure you.” He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to my dad. “That’s my phone number. Feel free to reach out anytime you want me to debunk any of your theories.”

Dad laughed so hard I thought he might fall over. “Oh, you’re on, young man. I’ll call you as soon as this boring party is over.”

Mom shot him a withering look. “ John .”

Dad made a point of fiddling with his drink. “Well, it is boring,” he muttered, before slinking away.

“So, Reggie,” Mom said, clearly eager to change the subject. “You mentioned something about work a moment ago. Work is busy for you this time of year, too?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “So busy.” He shook his head forlornly. “Always so much to do.”

Mom made a sympathetic noise. “Our Amelia works far too hard as well, which I’m sure you know.”

Reggie turned to look at me, his gaze softening into something that, if I hadn’t known this was an act, I could have believed was actual concern.

“She does,” he agreed. “She needs to be better at taking time for herself.”

He squeezed my hand, tracing invisible patterns on the back of it with his thumb.

God, he wasn’t kidding when he said he was good at pretending. My face flushed—whether it was from the unexpected gentleness of his words or the way he was caressing my hand, I didn’t know.

“I’ll start taking more time for myself as soon as tax season is over,” I said, by rote. It was the same thing I always trotted out whenever my family gave me grief over my long hours.

Mom and Reggie exchanged a knowing look.

“I wish I could believe you, hon,” Mom said, wistfully.

“I’ve heard this line from her so many times I’ve lost count,” Reggie agreed, shaking his head.

I glared at him. Unbelievable. Was he actually taking Mom’s side?

“Although it sounds like you work too hard, too,” Mom said to him, chiding. “Amelia told us you work in tech but didn’t go into details. What do you do?”

My heart sped up again. Suddenly, I regretted not pinning this detail down with him more specifically and telling him he could get creative with the explanation . How wild did he plan to get with the ad-libbing?

I decided to intervene. “I told you, Mom. We met at the office, and—”

—at the exact same moment Reggie said, “I work at a carnival.”

The room vanished. Time stopped. My stomach plunged somewhere in the vicinity of my shoes. The only things that still existed in this frozen moment of time were my mother’s surprised expression, my mounting horror, and the complete stranger beside me who had just dropped the mother of all bombshells in the middle of Aunt Sue’s tastefully decorated living room.

The weight of Mom’s stare on me was so acute I could actually feel it. But my gaze was fixed on Reggie. His expression was carefree. Breezy. Like he hadn’t just said the most ridiculous thing in the world and completely deviated from the plan.

“A carnival?” Mom asked, recovering before I did. To her credit, her voice sounded only mildly strained. “You—you own a carnival?”

“Oh, no,” he said, shaking his head and chuckling. “I don’t own a carnival. I just work at one.”

Was this another one of his practical jokes? Like when he told me he was a vampire with complete sincerity?

I realized, once again, that I knew nothing about this man. Maybe he did work at a carnival. Obviously there was nothing wrong with working at a carnival. It just wasn’t what I expected him to say, or the sort of thing someone I was dating would ever, ever say. And now that he had said it, it would make convincing my parents that we were in a relationship that much harder.

My self-preservation instinct kicked in at last. I decided to proceed as though he was joking.

“Oh, Reggie,” I said, forcing a fake laugh. “You’re so silly.”

“I am silly,” he agreed. “And you’re not. Which is why I was so touched when you agreed to see my carnival with me the last time I had a night off.”

If Mom’s eyebrows had gone any higher, they would have disappeared into her hairline.

“And what do you do at this carnival, Reggie?” she asked. “How long have you worked there?”

She was trying so hard to engage with this foolishness. It was honestly so sweet. My heart clenched with guilt at how hard she was trying to be supportive of this man she just met, and of this relationship that wasn’t real.

“Well, to be honest, I’ve only been a carnie for a couple months,” he said. He said the word carnie with relish. Like it wasn’t something he just made up on the spot to be ridiculous; like it was a job he loved. “But I do a lot of different things there. I run a couple of the games. Ring toss is my favorite, because I love it when these big brawny guys can’t get the rings to go where they want them to go and lose their shit.” I chanced a glance at Mom out of the corner of my eye. She was watching Reggie with the kind of rapt interest she usually reserved for deeply underpriced antiques at an estate sale. “I also help set up and take down a few of the rides, which is fine, but less rewarding on a spiritual level than watching grown men act like babies when they don’t win a stuffed animal.”

Mom looked at me. “Why did you tell me you met at the office?” Her tone was accusatory, as though implying I was embarrassed by my carnie boyfriend but shouldn’t be. It was difficult to know exactly what she was thinking, though. By that point my brain had mostly stopped functioning.

“I…” I began. “It’s just that…” I swallowed. Following this conversation felt like walking through quicksand. Why couldn’t I think my way out of this?

“We did meet at the office,” Reggie said, coming to my rescue. “And before I was a carnie, I worked in an office of my own for about ten years. Well,” he added, chuckling, “ mostly in an office. Sometimes I was in the field. I did computer tech support.”

“Oh my goodness,” Mom said, her hand fluttering to her chest. “What made you decide to give that up and become a…a carnie?”

Reggie turned a little, and inclined his head towards me when he answered Mom’s question. “I was really good at my job. I got a bunch of promotions, raises, all that stuff.” He shook his head. “But I also worked nonstop, and my heart was never in it. Not even at the beginning.”

To my astonishment, Mom nodded sympathetically. “It takes so much out of you to go to a job every day when your heart isn’t in it. I admire you for finding the courage to leave and follow your dreams.”

He grinned at her. “Thank you.”

“I hope your parents are supportive of your decision, too.”

His smile slipped for such a brief moment that anybody not looking at him as intently as I was would have missed it. He recovered quickly, though, and was smiling again, broad as ever, when he answered, “My parents don’t have much to say about my life anymore.”

I could hear the hint of pain in his voice behind the smile. He didn’t even have his parents’ contact info in his phone. Given how much of a chatterbox he was about everything else, his reticence about his family told me there was a story there. And one he had no interest in telling me.

As curious as I was, he didn’t owe me an explanation. He didn’t owe me anything at all.

Without thinking much about it, I clasped his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. To my surprise, he squeezed back. Whether it was just reflex, or gratitude for my small show of support, I couldn’t tell.

Either way, it was time to move on from this conversation.

“We both came here straight from work, Mom,” I lied. “So we’re famished. We’re going to get something to eat.” I nodded towards Aunt Sue’s dining room table, which had been turned into a staging area for the buffet.

“Of course,” Mom said. She smiled at us both. “Don’t let me keep you. Reginald, I look forward to chatting with you more very soon.”

After Mom left in search of other people to talk to, I breathed a sigh of relief. “You okay?”

“Sure,” he said. He was smiling again. But it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m always okay.” I wasn’t sure I believed him. But he was already looking away from me, towards the direction of the buffet table, clearly signaling this conversation was over. “Shall we?”

He held out his arm to me in wordless invitation. I swallowed. Right. We were doing this. With a slight nod to myself, I slid my arm through his, refusing to acknowledge how nice it felt when he tucked me closer to his side. Odd, too. Instead of the gesture making me feeling warmer, his body seemed to radiate chill, even though Aunt Sue’s house was well heated.

“Hungry?” I asked him.

He cleared his throat. “I ate before I came,” he said, giving me a pointed look. “But let’s get you some food.”

·······

We had to stand around a few minutes waiting for a large group of my teenage cousins to finish loading up before Reggie and I managed to get to the buffet. He regarded what Aunt Sue had put out and frowned in disapproval.

“Amelia, there’s almost nothing here you can eat.”

He was overstating the situation, but not by much. There was a veggie platter with cut up celery, carrots, and broccoli that had a little cup full of ranch dressing dip in the center that Aunt Sue likely picked up from Costco. Dessert was a yummy-looking tray of strawberries dipped in chocolate. I could eat all of that, though I’d have to skip the ranch. But about three-quarters of the table was taken up by a large silver platter piled high with little meats and squares of cheeses, and a large crystal bowl full of Aunt Sue’s family-famous macaroni and cheese that I assumed was for the kids. None of which I could eat without serious stomach ramifications later.

I sighed. “It’s like I told you. My family isn’t the most accommodating of my dietary needs.”

Reggie scowled. “If they were going to insist you come, the least they could do would be to offer a more diverse menu. How hard would it have been to get food that contains neither animal flesh nor dairy.” He shook his head. “I assume it would not be difficult at all, though I admit I’m not an expert on food.”

I was too distracted by what seemed like his genuine irritation to linger on the strangeness of what he’d just said. He didn’t know me. Why did he care if my family was collectively a bit of a dick about this? And why did seeing him upset on my behalf kick up a fluttering sensation in the pit of my stomach?

I almost explained that I’d stopped making a fuss about it because it was just easier to be accommodating, but decided getting into all of this with him would be more upsetting than it was worth.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll eat when I get home.”

“It’s not fine.” His expression was almost pained. “They’re your family . They should be more considerate of your needs.”

There was the crux of it. “Probably,” I conceded. “But, hey. The food looks like it’s pretty good. There’s no reason why you can’t eat something.”

He gave a curt shake of his head. “My diet is even more limited than yours. I can’t eat anything here, either.”

He gave me a knowing look that implied we shared inside information about why he couldn’t eat anything here. If we did, though, that was news to me. “Oh,” I said, confused. “Are you a vegan?”

He blinked at me. “No.” Then he huffed a laugh. “I suppose I haven’t explained all the specifics of my diet to you yet, have I.” He looked like he was about to do just that, but our conversation was interrupted by a small commotion coming from the entryway.

I turned and saw my cousin Gretchen, walking into the house holding hands with a guy who I assumed must be her fiancé, Josh.

Despite everything, I had to smile. Happiness looked good on her. She looked good, somehow tan even though it was March in Chicago. Maybe she’d just gotten back from vacation somewhere warmer. A group of cousins, my mom, and Aunt Sue were circling her, everyone talking animatedly as Gretchen laughed and held tighter to her fiancé’s hand.

I was happy for her that she seemed so happy. No part of me felt wistful, though. Did that mean something was wrong with me, that I didn’t want what she had?

I didn’t think so.

Maybe one day my family would agree.

·······

Gretchen and Josh were long gone by the time Reggie and I decided we’d made enough of an appearance at this party to head home ourselves.

As I was making my way to the room where Aunt Sue had stashed Old Fuzzy when we arrived, Reggie stopped me with his hand on my arm.

“Should we do some extra convincing before we leave? Give them a little show?” His voice was low, conspiratorial. His hand slid down to clasp mine. I turned my head to look at him, but he was watching the living room, where a smattering of other guests who hadn’t left yet were mingling.

Reggie’s words and the slightly possessive way he was holding my hand sent a frisson of panic down my spine.

Panic, and something else that I’d have to unpack later.

I swallowed. My throat was suddenly bone-dry. “What do you mean, give them a little show ?” As if the look in his eyes and his hand in mine didn’t make his meaning crystal clear.

He leaned in closer. “Kiss,” he said simply, his mouth a hairsbreadth from mine. His eyes danced with mischief. “I mean, we should kiss.”

I shouldn’t have been so surprised by his suggestion. After all, the whole point of tonight was to make my family think we were dating, wasn’t it? But my body clearly hadn’t gotten the memo. My heart pounded, every nerve ending in my body suddenly centered in the places where he, where his breath, were touching me. Standing this close, it was impossible to ignore how handsome he was. How his clothes looked so good on him that if I’d met him in different circumstances it would’ve been impossible to keep from ogling him.

How charming he’d been with everyone we’d spoken with that night. Including me.

I was suddenly far too aware of my breathing. Sophie’s dress, my skin, felt too small to contain me.

I gathered my nerve, and reminded myself that the only point of my bringing Reggie here had been to show everyone that I was doing just fine. There was no more to it than that.

“Let’s do it,” I managed.

He gave an infinitesimal nod of his head and a cocky little smirk that sent my thoughts scattering. He placed one hand at my waist, the ever-present chill of his palm cutting through the fabric of my dress like I was wearing nothing at all. He inclined his head, and—

“Wait,” I spluttered, panicking again, freezing. His eyes were so blue, his lips so close to mine that if I moved even a muscle, we would be kissing. “You mean, here?”

The right corner of his mouth quirked into another amused smirk. Unfair , I thought feebly, unable to look away from his plush lips. “This is a rather central location,” he murmured. His words were cool puffs of air on my upturned face. He was so dazzlingly close. “But if you have another idea, I suppose we could—”

I cut off the rest of his words with my lips.

Maybe if I had planned this better, I would have been prepared for the reality of kissing Reggie. But I hadn’t planned this at all, and I was completely unprepared.

With what remained of my scattered wits, I reminded myself to keep the kiss slow and chaste. Nothing that would horrify anyone or involve tongue. But it was immediately clear that Reggie had other plans; it wasn’t long before my body did, too.

He kissed with a practiced ease that threatened to completely unmake me, one broad palm finding the small of my back as he tugged me closer. I went willingly, unthinkingly, my arms wrapping around his neck when he tilted his head and traced the seam of my lips with the tip of his tongue.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. My body was not supposed to react to his proximity, his touch, his kiss. This wasn’t real . But for my body, this kiss was as real as it got. My breath quickened as the seconds slipped past, as Reggie briefly dipped his tongue into my mouth before withdrawing again. His taste was peculiar, like metal and salt, like that time I’d accidentally bitten my tongue while eating too fast and blood pooled in my mouth. It did nothing to dispel the moment, or to distract me from the very real sensations coursing through me. I clutched at the ends of his shirt collar, thinking only of bringing him closer, not even realizing I was doing it until he returned the favor by bunching up the fabric at the front of my dress in his fist.

“Amelia,” he whispered against my lips.

And then, it was over. Reggie pulled back by degrees, giving me a sheepish grin.

I was warm and flushed all over. I had no doubt that my face was as red as the strawberries I’d eaten for dessert. When I looked into his eyes, the blacks of his pupils had nearly swallowed up the brilliant blue irises, but he seemed otherwise unaffected by what we’d just done.

“Do you think they bought it?” His voice was low, with an edge of gravel in it that curled my toes. “I personally think it was a convincing performance, but you know your family better than I do.”

A convincing performance .

His words were the bucket of cold water over my head I desperately needed.

I shook my head a little to reorient myself. “It was good,” I said lamely. His eyes widened; too late, I realized I was answering a different question from what he’d asked. I closed my eyes and tried again. “I…think it was convincing.”

To my relief, and horror, my mom, Aunt Sue, and my sister-in-law Jess had definitely noticed what Reggie and I had just done. They were talking amongst themselves in the living room, standing about ten feet away from us and shooting us meaningful looks every few seconds. When the older women moved away, my sister-in-law gave me a theatrical wink and a big thumbs-up.

“It was convincing,” I confirmed, feeling dizzy.

“Well…” Reggie reached up and rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. His composure from moments ago showed signs of cracking. Now that he was standing a small distance away I noticed that he looked almost as dazed as I felt. His other hand still rested lightly at my waist. Was it breaking our rules if I didn’t want him to pull away? “That’s good.”

“Yeah,” I heard myself agree. “Definitely good.”

If only I knew where we went from here.