9. Vera

I know this whole fake relationship was my idea, but the only thing stopping me from blurting out the truth is the sheer joy on our parents' faces. Incidentally, it's the whole reason I asked Robbie to go along with the misconception in the first place. Either he's an Oscar-worthy actor or I'm the only one floundering in this charade.

It's easy with his parents. Viv met me at the door with a smile and a tight hug, rocking me back and forth as she squeezed my shoulders.

"I'm so glad you're here, sweet girl." The words pressed against my ear, through the bulk of my hair, and I felt something inside me soften.

The living room looks exactly the same as I remember it. Same blue gingham curtains framing the big bay window, same solid oak coffee and end tables. Robbie's dad still sits in the same dark green recliner. He gets to his feet a little slower than he used to, but the kiss he presses to my cheek as Robbie closes the door behind me is still the same as it used to be.

"How're you doing, kid?" He kisses my other cheek. "We always hoped to get you back."

My eyes dart to their son, still standing with his back almost pressed to the heavy front door, and my insides twist with a dash of guilt. There was a time when I'd hoped for this too, a future with Robbie. And yet here we are, faking all the way. My mom follows Robbie's into the kitchen, and his dad offers mine a beer, and then it's just me, my past, and the blonde kid he brought home with him.

I busy myself with the nearest photograph, trying to look busy but not out of place. Anything to prevent the awkwardness that is slowly rolling through the room like a thick fog. Most of the pictures are of Robbie and his parents. I recognize his floppy hair stage, the patchy facial hair stage, photos of him on the ice in an assortment of different jerseys.

He watches me as I move through his parents' living room. I can feel his eyes tracking over the bare skin of my shoulders and along the length of my arms.

Stop staring . I want to snap at him. We're supposed to be a couple. I'm not a bug under a microscope, but I'm not exactly being any less awkward, so I keep my mouth shut.

"I'm surprised you still have some of these," I say, stopping in front of a picture of the two of us. I refuse to let my gaze linger on the couch we used to sit on, his hands tracing up the inner face of my thighs, cuddled under a chunky knit blanket to avoid detection. His mom still has the same throw pillows nestled into the corners. The ones Robbie used to push me back into as he sipped from my lips every time one of his parents stepped out of the room.

"He probably won't tell you this," Jack says from where he stands near the archway to the kitchen, sipping from a tall glass of lemonade, "But all those photos of you were in my room." He gestures to a few other frames around the living room.

"What?" I frown first at the picture, and then at the hockey player. He brings the cup to his mouth, winking at me over the rim, and I hear a throat clear behind me.

"Clear out, Spags." The deep voice is considerably closer than I thought.

"No wait," I say, "I have questions." I tap my finger over a shot of me and Robbie at the local fall carnival, surrounded by fat, orange pumpkins. Mostly why they'd be in the guest room, and now in the living room, or why they're still out at all.

"I might have shown too much interest in them," Jack winks again and I feel the shift in temperature as Robbie steps up behind me. "I'm going to check on the lovely Vivian. Behave you two," and then he's out the doorway, whistling as he goes, and I'm left alone with Robbie Oakes.

"Ignore him," he tells me, his voice sliding over my skin like a warm breeze. "He's taken too many hits to the head."

His hand comes up to rest on my waist and I swear my whole body sighs at the brush of his fingers over the sliver of skin between my shirt and my shorts. Practice, I remind myself. We're alone right now, no one watching how close our bodies are, or the way his fingers press into the dip above my hips, but so aware of each other that we might as well be magnets pushing apart.

"Thanks to you?" I ask, swallowing the lump that's grown in my throat.

"And Vic. It's a team effort."

That's right. They're playing together again.

"Be nice to him," I say, my eyes slipping closed as he moves closer. "I like him."

"For you," his breath fans over my neck, ruffling my hair. "I'll try."

Robbie's free hand slides up the outside of my arm, a warm caress that has the air catching in my chest. I don't realize that I've moved until my back presses against the hard planes of his chest. Robbie has been an athlete all his life. Even as a kid he was leanly muscled, not an ounce of extra body fat. It's different now. He's all man behind me, broad and strong, and I refuse to shift my hips back to feel anything else.

"I missed you." The words pour out of me like water through a sieve. Out before I can overthink them, or question them. Out before I can swallow them back down or play them off. His hand spasms on my waist and lips brush my skin, feathering over the silver chain around my neck. My heart thunders against my ribs.

"Are you lovebirds planning on joining us anytime soon? Or are you going to make my grand baby right here on my couch?" Vivian is standing in the archway, chewing on her lower lip to stop her smile. If it was another couple getting "caught," I'd laugh too. Right now, I'd prefer the hardwood floor to open up and swallow me.

"Now Viv, they're just kids. Let's not rush anything here." My mom says, stepping up next to Robbie's with a matching drink in her hand.

"I tried to stop them, honest." Jack says, crowding in too, and I don't believe him for a second, but the interruption is much appreciated.

Robbie lifts his head from my neck and drops his hands. I expect him to put space between us, but he links our fingers, bringing my hand up to press a soft kiss to my palm.

"I'm just saying," his mom isn't hiding her smile anymore, "when you invite people over for dinner, the expectation is that everyone gets to eat."

There's a beat of dumbfounded silence before Jack cackles.

"Did your mom just make an oral sex reference?" He claps his hands together. "This is the best summer vacation ever."

"We're coming," Robbie says and I can't decide if I want to laugh, or flee, when his mom says. "Well, not now. You aren't."

With the initial awkwardness behind us, it's easy to slide back into old habits with Robbie. I sit next to him at the big cherry-wood table, our hands brushing as we reach for our waters. He slides the corn off his plate and onto mine, just like he used to do when we were kids. I can't remember the last time I ate it. It was probably the last time I lived at home.

"You don't like corn on the cob?" Jack asks. "I feel like I'm learning so much about you this trip, Dad."

Robbie pins the kid with a look and I wonder what he's going to say. I used to trade him almost anything on my plate for his ear. Then he'd laugh at my method of systematically picking the kernels off with my teeth, one by one until there was nothing left but the empty husk.

"Vera likes it more."

Both our mothers sigh, dreamy contentment etched on their faces, and I look to my right at Robbie. He is looking back at me, calm, stoic, staring. My mouth curves into a smile and I pick up my corn, letting the ends singe my fingers.

Conversation turns to summer plans, the kids in the hockey camp, and Jack's family and home. I'm trying to focus on the hum of voices, but Robbie is taking up every one of my thoughts. His knee bumps mine under the table and my hand fists around the handle of my fork. His eyes dart to mine as his lips hitch in a smirk.

Yes, I have the urge to stand on my chair and yell at the ceiling. I still find Robbie Oakes devastatingly handsome. I still care for him deeply, but that's it. It doesn't mean anything else. It's nothing to be ashamed of.

A hand settles on the bare skin above my knee, a thumb rubbing back and forth, back and forth until I think my eyes are going to cross right here in front of everyone. It's been too long since I've had sex. Even by myself. Robbie is classically handsome and I'm hard up. It's not personal. I bet Jack could be the one sitting next to me and I'd…

I stare across the table at the blonde teenager and shake my head, thoughts clearing just a little.

Okay, so maybe I wouldn't be attracted to Jack Spaeglin, but that's because he's an infant. Cute in a baby brother kind of way. And okay, there was that rockstar I met up with twice back in LA, but Gibson Hawke is a fuck boy. Not my style at all. And the French underwear model was nothing more than a PR stunt for both of us during fashion week. I still have brunch with Olivier and his boyfriend Ma?l whenever they're in LA or I'm in Paris.

My last couple of "dates" have been more for show than anything else, but I'm not still pining for Robbie Oakes. Checking up on his career stats, watching his games, looking for him at parties, none of that means anything more than nostalgia. Curiosity about how an old flame is doing. An old friend. Don't most people stalk at least one old acquaintance online? It would probably be weirder if I didn't.

By the time Robbie and Jack clear the dinner plates away, everything feels almost normal between us. The casual brushes of our hands no longer make me jump out of my skin. Now I search for them, initiating contact when Robbie doesn't.

I station myself in front of the wide farm sink, shooing Vivian out of the way so I can take over the washing.

"It's nice seeing you there again." Vivian says as she wipes her hands on a blue dish towel.

"Cleaning?" I tease, bumping her shoulder with mine.

She tips her head toward me until our temples touch. "You know what I mean, sweet girl. I always thought… I always hoped…."

I press my lips to her cheek as the words trail off.

"Well," her arm squeezes around my shoulders, "Here we are now."

A wash of guilt coats the inside of my stomach. The lying was a bad idea. I wanted our parents to be happy—content—during our mutual visit. It's such a short time that we're here before Robbie and I both jet back to our regular lives. I didn't want to break their hearts with the news that we weren't together.

I should probably examine why that would be bad news. That two adults are not in a relationship despite a long history of caring for each other. Sixteen years ago, it was the wrong time for us, but things have a way of staying exactly the same and changing all at once. Now, for all I know, the time could be right. And we could have grown into the wrong people.

Am I giving everyone false hope?

Myself included?

I open my mouth, ready to come clean and beg forgiveness, when the dish towel is pulled out of Vivian's grasp and two large hands come down on her shoulders.

Big hands, with tanned skin and long, blunt-tipped fingers.

"I got it Ma," Robbie says, shifting his mother out of the way as he steps in between us, bellying up to the sink.

Over his broad shoulder I see the watery sheen in Viv's eyes, her hand coming up to press over her mouth. It's a look of wonder, awe. I know she's seeing us standing in her kitchen both now, and as kids. Our shared history is playing right there behind her whiskey eyes. I know it is, because it's playing behind mine, too. Robbie doesn't see his mother's face because he's too busy tipping his chin down to look at me, but the past is right there behind his pupils, playing on a loop for anyone who bothers to look.

I swallow down my confession and reach for a plate.

"You two don't have to do this," Vivian says, picking up her wineglass from off the counter and taking a sip. "I know you used to wash and dry together like good kids, but you're both guests. You can leave the drudgery to the old ladies and go catch up."

The corner of Robbie's mouth turns up as he takes the soapy dish from my hand. The edges of our fingers scrape over each other and I suck in a breath at the tingles that spread up my arm.

"Oh Viv," my mom laughs from the doorway—and this kitchen is officially getting crowded, but I've committed to the chore—"They hide in here to steal kisses when they think no one is looking."

Vivian chokes back a snort as Robbie's neck turns red and I bite down hard on my lower lip to keep my laugh locked up tight.

"Ma," Robbie's voice is strangled by his warning. It's so cute. So sweet and innocent, and reminiscent of the boy he once was, that my chin quivers.

"What? You can't possibly need to hide out to kiss her now. You're thirty-three Robert."

"Maybe I just don't want my best girls to get stuck with chores when I could do them myself," Robbie says and meets my gaze head-on. "I'm not hiding anything."

It's my turn to blush, and once again the urge to come clean washes over me like a crashing wave. Robbie dries his hand on the side of his shirt and cups my jaw. His fingers rub over my chin and along my lower lip. My tongue darts out as soon as his thumb is gone, as if I can chase the taste of him, and then his mouth is on mine.

It's chaste, just a peck to my mouth, but my lips were already parted and so are his. For a moment, our tongues press into each other, sliding together and then away as he pulls back. It's like traveling back in time and experiencing something new all at once. His dark eyes dart between mine, but his hand doesn't drop. His fingertips curl against my throat and my head tips back, inviting another slide of our mouths.

Robbie doesn't kiss me again, but he holds my eyes captive, staring into the depths of my soul. There are bubbles bursting in my veins, slowly expanding until they pop in a shower of glitter that warms me from the inside out. We're both leaning forward again, drawn like super magnets, when his mother laughs.

"Alright, we'll give you space to bat your lashes at each other," Vivian says, "But please try to wash at least some dishes before she leaves. Unless you're staying, Vera? You're more than welcome to."

I haven't spent the night in the Oakes house since before Robbie and I became an item as teens.

"Thank you, Viv, but I'm at the Staycation Express right on the other side of the creek. I appreciate the offer."

"A hotel?" Vivian presses her hands to her chest. "I keep forgetting your parents don't have a guest room anymore. Robbie, Vera should stay here with us. There's plenty of room."

"Not that you aren't welcome," Robbie says to me before turning to his mother, "but we don't have tons of room. I'm on the futon in the den and Spags is in my old room. Unless the exercycle in Dad's office turns into a bed, we're getting pretty cramped."

"I'm surprised you didn't want to stay together," my mother says. "Did you think we'd say no?"

I'm not sure what my mother is implying, because even if we'd been together—really together—before this impromptu trip, since when would we need permission to stay where and how we want? Both Robbie and I are adults with healthy bank accounts. We know how to take care of ourselves.

"My visit was kind of spur of the moment," I say, looking at Robbie to see if he's going to jump in. "I didn't tell anyone I was coming and I don't want to inconvenience anyone."

"A surprise." Vivian melts at my words. "Did you plan to land with Jack so Robbie could pick you up?"

Considering I didn't know Jack until we landed… no, not really. But our moms seem to buy it, so I nod.

"Well, we can make room if you'd rather stay here," Vivian says, and I search Robbie's face again to see if he's going to weigh in. He's gone completely silent and completely still. I'm not even sure he knows what we're talking about.

"Vera's going to stay here?" My mother asks. She's twisting her hands together again and looking from me to Robbie and back again. "Is that a good idea for the two of you? Right now?"

"It's already handled." Jack says from the archway, grabbing everyone's attention. "Robbie didn't want to leave me to get settled in alone, so he stayed here last night, but he's going to join Vera at the hotel." He grins at Robbie's mom. "I hope you don't mind being stuck with me, Viv. The hotel has more space for a couple and I'm quite comfy in Robbie's old room."

"Of course, Jack." Vivian says. "What a sweet idea, letting the lovebirds have some privacy."

"That's me. A sweet guy." Jack grins. "Hey Viv, Cece—can I call you Cece?—I believe I was promised an assortment of family photos and videos of my capitan. I'd love to have a look at anything you've got."

Vivian laughs, "I did promise you embarrassing stories and pictures. Cecelia, want to help regale young Jack with some stories of Vera too?"

Wait a minute. I did not agree to that .

"Hold up," Robbie says, but Jack simply looks over his shoulder and mouths, "You're welcome," as our mothers follow him out of the kitchen.

And then we're alone and Jack is the last thing on my mind as Robbie hands me another dish and his fingers brush mine.