18. Hutton

hutton

. . .

“So how’s it going?” my sister asked as she cleaned up the post-breakfast kitchen mess. “I haven’t even seen you since you got back from New York. You ignore me now that you have a fiancée.”

“Sorry.” I was sitting at her kitchen table watching the kids play in the yard through the window.

“Looks like you guys had fun. I saw some pictures.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “We had fun. Despite the people who felt it necessary to intrude on our privacy and take photos.”

“The ones I saw were good.” She collected some more dirty plates from the table. “I mean, you knew people were going to be interested. The love lives of celebrities sell.”

“But it’s fucking annoying. I don’t want to be a celebrity. And Felicity didn’t ask for that kind of attention.”

Allie shrugged. “No, but it sort of comes with the territory. She knows who you are.”

She did. She knew me better than anyone. Why was I mad at her for it?

“Quite a ring you gave her.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you guys settled on a date yet?”

“No.”

She wiped off the table with a sponge. Then she stood there with her hands on her hips. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I clenched my jaw a little tighter.

“Is it the hearing?”

“That’s a lot of it.”

“So what’s the rest of it?”

I averted my gaze out the window again. The kids were drawing with sidewalk chalk on the cement in front of the garage.

“You know I’ll get it out of you.”

“Maybe I’m dreading that stupid engagement party.”

“Hutton! You’re not supposed to know about that.”

“Too late.”

“Who told you?”

“Felicity. She heard it from her sister that works at Abelard, because unlike my family, her family knows how much I hate parties and gave us a warning.”

Allie tossed the sponge in the sink and sat down at the table, flashing her palms at me like she was innocent. “It was not my idea, okay? But Mom consulted some crazy celestial calendar that said to throw a party on that date. When she found out it was available, she took it as a sign from the stars.”

“Of course she did.”

“Is that really what’s bothering you?”

I exhaled, wishing I was outside drawing with chalk instead of in here under the microscope. “There’s just a constant loop of negative shit running through my brain, okay?”

“They’re just thoughts. You don’t have to give them power.”

“Don’t go therapist on me. I don’t fucking need it right now.”

“Okay, okay.” Her tone softened and she sat back. “I just want to help.”

I dug in deeper. “You can’t help.”

“All right. Then I’ll just say I’m really proud of you for having the guts to finally admit your feelings for Felicity and asking her to marry you. I know how hard that must have been. And I think you made the perfect choice. She’s really amazing.”

She was amazing. Goddammit.

“She’s so good for you,” Allie went on. “She’s always understood you so well. You really need someone who’s a safe place, someone to ground you. But also someone who can stand up to you when it’s necessary.”

“I know,” I snapped. I didn’t need to be told Felicity was one in a million. This wasn’t helping.

“I’m just so glad you got out of your head and told her how you feel before it was too late. I mean, it took you long enough—but also, it came out of nowhere. One minute you won’t even go to a reunion, and the next—poof, you’re getting married.”

I looked at her. “Allie.”

“Yes?”

It was so obvious. “You know.”

“Know what?” She blinked innocently at me. “That your sudden engagement is totally ridiculous? That it was a ploy to get Mom off your back? That you two are actually in love but somehow feel more comfortable faking it? Which thing that I know should we talk about first?”

“Fuck. Why didn’t you say something?”

“What good would that have done? You two clearly had your reasons, you’re consenting adults, and people work out their shit in different ways. I just figured this was your way of finally crossing the line without fear. If you could call it all for show, it was less pressure.” She grinned. “Plus, it was a riot to watch you two react that morning at your house.”

I groaned. “I can’t believe you knew. You made us take all those pictures! You made us kiss. ”

“I know.” She chuckled. “So did you guys plant the story yourselves?”

“Not exactly.” Taking a deep breath, I launched into the story—how Felicity had blurted it out at the reunion, how she’d asked me to come rescue her, how the story had leaked, and how I’d convinced her to keep up the act.

“To get Mom off your back? Was I right about that?” she asked, since she was still my big sister, and being right mattered.

“Yes. Also...” I rubbed the back of my neck.

“Also, you wanted to be with her. And this handed you the opportunity without the vulnerability.”

I frowned. “You don’t have to make me sound like an asshole. We both agreed to the plan.”

“I’m not here to judge you, Hutton.” She sat back. “But I have a feeling something went wrong with your plan.”

“Nothing was wrong with the plan,” I argued. “The plan was perfect. What went wrong was that I tried to make it better, and she got mad.”

She put her chin in her hand. “Go on.”

“We were going to get through the party, then break it off and tell everyone we’d decided we were better off as friends when I went back to San Francisco.”

“But then you realized you’re in love with her and that plan sucks?”

I jumped out of my chair and started pacing. “Look, it doesn’t really matter how I feel. We can’t stay together.”

“Why not?”

“We just can’t, okay? I’m going back to San Francisco and her life is here.”

She cocked her head. “So it’s the distance?”

“Yes,” I lied.

“But you’re a billionaire. Can’t you work from anywhere?”

Honestly, I probably could. But that wasn’t the point. “No, I can’t. I have to live where my company is based.”

“Felicity won’t move?”

“I didn’t ask her.” I avoided Allie’s eyes.

“Why not?”

“Because her family is here, and her business is here, and she won’t want to upend her life that way for me. Why should she? My relationships always end badly, and so do hers. We wanted something different. Something safer.”

“Interesting choice of words,” she mused. “So you thought you were protecting yourself by giving the relationship a deadline? That way neither of you would have to do the hurting or get hurt? You could stay friends?”

“Exactly!” I snapped my fingers, glad she finally understood. “Foolproof.”

“So how did you attempt to improve upon this totally safe and foolproof plan?”

“We have to be out of the house we’re in by August fifteenth,” I explained. “But I suggested that I could rent or buy another place and she could live there when I go back to San Francisco. I was trying to do her a favor .”

My sister’s jaw dropped. “By suggesting she become a kept woman?”

“It wouldn’t be like that. I care about her.”

“But that’s not what you said to her, is it?”

“She knows I care,” I insisted.

“She doesn’t know you love her.”

I shook my head. “I can’t tell her that.”

“Because . . .”

“Because then I’m just like her mother, okay?” I yelled. “I’d have to say it and walk away, and I can’t do that to her.”

My sister rose to her feet. “You’re missing the point—I’m suggesting that maybe you don’t walk away, Hutton. You tell her you love her and you find a way to stay.” She held up a hand to prevent me from arguing. “You accept that you’re not perfect, you accept that you’ll probably always have that shitty voice in your head, but you accept that you’re still deserving and fucking capable of love. Or you let her go. That’s your choice.”

Infuriated, I stood there glaring at her for a full ten seconds, my jaw clenched, my chest tight, my head pounding. “I said no therapist shit.”

“That wasn’t therapy shit. That was big sister shit.” She pointed to the yard. “Now you go out there and think about what you did.”

While Allie ran errands, I hung out with the kids, took them to the park, made them lunch, and bought them ice cream from the truck Zosia and Jonas chased up the street. All afternoon, my sister’s words ran through my head, but I refused to admit she was right.

I knew myself better than she did. What she was telling me to do was impossible.

“Why are you in such a bad mood?” asked Zosia as we walked home. Her ice cream was dripping all down her hand.

“I’m not.” I glanced behind me to make sure Keely was okay in the wagon I was pulling.

“Yes, you are. You’ve been grumpy all day.”

“I just bought you an ice cream cone, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” she allowed. Then she held it up toward me. “Want a lick?”

“No, thanks.”

“When you get married, will Felicity be my aunt?”

It felt like she’d kicked me in the gut. “I guess so.”

“And when you have kids, will they be my cousins?”

I swallowed hard. “They would.”

“Cool. I want some cousins.” Then out of nowhere, she said, “You’ll be a good dad.”

I stared down at her. “What makes you say that?”

“You like the park, you never care about getting sandy or messy or wet, and you buy us ice cream.”

“That’s all it takes to be a good dad?”

She shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah.”

After Allie got back, she walked out to my car with me. “Good luck in D.C. Call me if you need a pep talk, okay?”

“Okay.”

“What time is your flight?”

“Early. Six.”

She stuck her hands in the back pockets of her shorts. “What will you do about Felicity?”

“I don’t know.” I exhaled. “First I have to get through that fucking hearing. And maybe after a few days apart, I’ll be able to think more clearly.”

She shrugged. “Sometimes distance does add perspective.”

“I wish I could see the future,” I blurted. “To know how it would play out.”

“Me too.” Allie spoke quietly. “But unfortunately, no matter what Mom thinks, there’s no way to know what the future holds. No dream, no crystal ball, no palm reading, or tea leaves or tarot card is going to give you the answer.”

“Yeah.”

She gave me a hug, patting me on the back. “Even though we want the path to be clear and easy, the truth is, sometimes there’s a lot of shit in the way. And the only way out is through.”