He sighed and pulled out a cucumber and carrots from his fridge. “I know. But he was diagnosed six years ago. So I knew this was coming.”
“You can still be upset about it.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, focused on methodically chopping the vegetables. “And I am. I’m definitely not excited about it. But before, when he was still him, and he knew who I was, way before all of this, we’d talked about it. He sketched out the whole plan. So, I know this is the right choice. It still kind of sucks, you know,” he said, pulling out a container of hummus. “I guess you can’t plan how it’ll feel.”
I nodded, not quite sure what to say, knowing there weren’t any words to make this better. I was confused how he could be so rational, emotional, and strong, all in one moment. But I did know if he didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t be right now.
“I bet your dad is such an amazing person,” I said quietly, looking down at the candy in my hands again. “I mean, he raised you all by himself, and you’re … so special, Dean,” I said, glancing up at him, wishing he could feel how my heart beat when I looked at him. “So incredibly strong and special and … perfect in your own way.”
He smiled softly at me, gorgeous in the candlelight, in this moment.
“He would think you were so cool,” he said, moving to the couch. “He would not be able to understand how his crazy artsy kid met a girl like you. He’d think I was making you up just to impress him.”
I laughed, sitting on the armrest, unwrapping a chocolate. “Well, if you ever need to convince him that I’m real, I’m here.”
As Dean looked at me, I realized what I’d said. I shook my head, backpedaling, “Not that I’m asking to meet your dad. Sorry, whoa, that’s an off-the-charts contract violation.”
He laughed, not responding.
“I mean, if you ever needed help or anything though,” I said, not sure why I couldn’t stop talking. “Like, with moving or whatever. I’m a very excellent organizer. I mean, that’s just one example. I don’t know. I don’t know why I can’t shut up. Please ignore me. I’m just trying to be helpful. You never ask for help,” I said, closing my eyes as he laughed again. “So, that’s all I’m saying. If you ever need me, I’m around. I’m not planning to go anywhere.”
He smiled. “I’ll remember that.”
The conversation shifted, the snacks disappeared, and we lost track of time talking and then kissing and then talking some more on his couch.
“What time is it?” Dean asked after we both yawned and laughed. “I’m sorry, but I think I’m going to fall asleep any minute.”
I glanced at my watch. “It’s 1:12 a.m.”
“Oh, wow,” he said, standing.
I smiled, thinking it was adorable how he always seemed to be surprised to find out what time it was.
He reached out, pulling me up from the couch, and smiled, looking me up and down. “You probably shouldn’t show up to your apartment wearing my shirt, princess. Where did your dress go?”
I hesitated as he handed it to me from the floor, glancing back at the paintings. In the candlelight, all the imperfections of my painting were smoothed out, and his flowers looked even more realistic. I looked back at him, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Um, what do you think about calling Amendment 5.1?”
“That’s for when you’re buzzed, not me,” he said with a laugh. “And even so, I’m sober now. That was like five hours ago.”
“But maybe just to be safe,” I said, stepping forward, “I could stay over anyway.”
He looked surprised, like he didn’t believe me. “Like, in my bed?”
“That’s typically where people sleep,” I said with a light laugh, trying hard to seem effortlessly cool, unable to comprehend how he seemed this way all the time.
“Yeah, okay, I’d like that,” he said, nodding, as I stepped forward again, wrapping my arms around his waist, pulling him close, kissing him soft and slow, not wanting to let go.
★☽★★☽
I took a deep breath, not exactly sure what I was going to say. I thought about how she’d kept her cool about Ivy & Roast, a strange, unexpected place, something she’d never heard of before, never noticed, would have never chosen herself because it had been so incredibly different. But she’d stayed. She hadn’t even fought me when I’d wanted to stay without her. She’d noticed I was happy. That had to have meant something.
I unlocked the front door and pushed it open. Krista looked up from the couch with a bright smile, sitting down her bridal magazine.
“Hey, how was Lindy’s? Oh, by the way, I think I found some good options for my wedding favors. I know it’s early to think about that now, but I was feeling spontaneous. Would you want to see some of the things I came up with? Do you want me to make some coffee?”
I felt stuck. I could tell her the truth or I could take advantage of her assumption. I hadn’t even remembered to text her or Lindy last night when I’d decided to spend the night at Dean’s. I’d done nothing to cover my tracks, and everyone just assumed I’d done the same thing I always did, not even asking.
“Uh, I already had coffee,” I said, sitting down on the couch.
As Krista busied herself in the kitchen, I thought of last night, wondering how much, if anything, I should tell her.
“No awful alarm this morning?” Dean had asked when we’d woken up, his voice low and soft against my neck, his arm around my waist, my back against his chest, my fingers over his patterned wrist, just like how we’d fallen asleep.
“Last time, you said your bed, your rules,” I’d said with a smile, not opening my eyes, feeling so cozy. “You know how I am about rules. So I didn’t set an alarm.”
He’d laughed, fiddling with a button on the shirt of his I was still wearing. “How did you sleep?”
I’d smiled, opening my eyes and turning as he laid on his back and I rested my head on his chest, his arms around me even more than before. I’d traced my finger over the geometric tattoo on the left side of his abs as he rested his cheek on the top of my head. We stayed like that for a while, just feeling each other this way, having never done this, never touched like this, having never broken Rule 4 so openly, so blatantly, in the daylight.
Once we’d eventually untangled from our embrace, Dean had asked if I wanted coffee.
“I feel bad asking you for coffee outside of the coffee shop,” I’d said with a laugh as he got ready for the day, not seeming to mind I still hadn’t moved from his bed.
He’d laughed and opened his closet, slipping on fitted black jeans with more fashionably tattered holes than fabric. “Well, I think it’s different when I’m a barista and you’re an accounting major than when we’re here, and we’re—” he’d stopped himself as I looked at him, waiting for him to finish.
“When we’re what?” I’d asked, my heart pounding.
He’d looked at me and smiled.
“Under contract,” he’d said with another laugh, putting in black hoop earrings and slipping on some multi-colored beaded bracelets. He’d moved back to the bed, leaning down to kiss me soft and slow.
“When we don’t have a counter between us so I can kiss you whenever I want. When I get to look at you in my bed, and you don’t even know what time it is so you don’t have to rush away.”
He’d kissed me again before pulling away and moving to the kitchen. “Aeropress or Chemex?”
“I don’t know the difference,” I’d said with a laugh. “Whatever takes the longest.”
Krista’s voice from our kitchen pulled me out of the memory.
“Do you want me to make you some food?” she asked, glancing at me on the couch.
“No, thanks.” I took a deep breath. “Krista, can we talk?”
She poured a cup of coffee and came back into the living room, folding her legs under herself on the couch. “Yeah, sure, what’s going on? You think it’s crazy I’m already thinking about wedding favors?” She sighed. “You’re right. I need to
focus on more important stuff.”
I shook my head, realizing this was going to be harder than I’d thought.
“Do you remember at Ivy & Roast, that coffee shop we went to about a month ago, you said you thought I seemed happier lately?”
She nodded. “Yeah, what about it? I don’t really want to go back to that place, though. It was not my scene. I tried to explain it to Kyle, and he didn’t get it either. Why didn’t they just have a menu on the wall?”
“Krista,” I said, folding my hands in my lap, trying to remain composed, calm. “I’d like to discuss something with you that’s not related to your wedding or coffee. Well, it’s kind of related to coffee.”
She looked confused. “Oh, okay. What is it?”
I paused, unable to meet her gaze, looking at the steam curling off her coffee instead, reminded of earlier this morning.
“Coffee served in bed,” Dean had said with a laugh, passing me a cup and sitting next to me against the pillows I’d propped up against the wall. “Is that all it takes to get you to stay over? I would have offered months ago if I’d known it was that simple, princess,” he’d said, kissing my cheek.
I’d smiled, trying to push away the butterflies in my stomach as I sipped the coffee, savoring the flavor.
“This coffee is incredible. I’ve never experienced anything like this…” I’d said slowly, looking at the dark, rich liquid, feeling how it warmed me from the inside out. “I’ve always just stuck with the same old, same old coffee, you know? I’ve never taken the time to explore other coffee options. To even think I would like coffee so different.”
Dean had leaned his head against the wall, looking at me carefully. “Nine months ago you wouldn’t have given coffee like this a chance, would you?”
“I wouldn’t have even noticed it. I would have made eighty-seven excuses to not try it. I wouldn’t have even known how to appreciate it. But now,” I’d said, looking back down, “this is all I want, you know?”
Krista was waiting. I cleared my throat. I hadn’t practiced this enough on the drive over.
“Um, I’m kind of … I’m with,” I fumbled, not sure how to describe it. She wouldn’t understand the contract, and she certainly wouldn’t get the amendments. So I settled on, “There is someone in my life.”
She looked even more confused. “Okay, what does that mean?”
“I don’t have the exact right words for it. He’s just…”
“He,” she repeated, placing her coffee on a coaster, sitting up straighter, listening closely now. “Are you talking about this Brad guy?”
I could have said yes. Instead, I counted to four, remembering to breathe, and shook my head. “No. Dean.”
“Dean?” she repeated, the word foreign in her mouth, as if she’d never heard it before in her life. Hearing his name coming out of my sister’s mouth made my hands shake. I couldn’t turn back now.
I nodded. “Yes, that’s his name. Dean Cross.”
Krista was completely shocked. She was tense, caught off guard, trying to solve a math problem she didn’t have the equation for.
“And you’re dating him?”
“Um,” I paused, not sure how to answer. We weren’t. We’d never said that, but we also weren’t dating other people, Rule 2 abolished. Krista wouldn’t get it.
“He’s your boyfriend?” she rephrased after my hesitation went on for too long.
I shook my head. “No, he’s not my boyfriend.”
That would have involved a discussion Dean and I had never even come close to having, labels neither had ever tried to give the other, a conversation that wouldn’t involve rules or amendments.
“Okay, so he’s just one of these coffee shop date things you do? Is he in your date notebook?”
I kind of laughed, confusing her even more. I couldn’t even remember the last coffee shop date I’d been on. And imagining Dean on paper, pros and cons listed, was not an exercise I wanted to go through with my sister.
“Krista, I know this is not what you were expecting,” I said, shifting on the couch, my nerves still drumming in my veins. “But I wanted to tell you because…” I wasn’t sure why I suddenly felt compelled to tell her. “…you’re my sister, and I want you to be happy for me.”
She looked at me, still processing. I knew this was too abstract, too vague for her to understand.
“Did you meet him at school?”
“We met on campus.”
She didn’t need to know the exact details of how we’d first met, what we’d done in his car after only one conversation.
“Okay, so what’s his major?”
I opened my mouth and closed it, trying to find the right balance between not lying and not freaking her out. I wasn’t sure there was one.
She reached out, touching my hand. “Skylar, if you’re worried about what Dad will think, just remember that Kyle wasn’t an accounting major. I mean, he’s the total opposite of us, he was a finance major,” she said with a light laugh. “And Dad came around. Now they’re golfing together almost every weekend.”
I nodded, my stomach twisting at the idea of Dean on a golf course. In a country club covered in tattoos.
“Well, he doesn’t go to school anymore. He’s, um, twenty-six.”
She was slightly taken aback. “Oh, wow, so he’s two years ahead of me. Well, what does he do? What company does he work for?”
Her ring seemed extra sparkly this morning, making me more anxious, a constant reminder of her perfect, completely logical relationship with Kyle. She’d never needed to explain Kyle so carefully.
“Well, he’s very employed,” I said, realizing I’d been chewing on my fingernail. “He’s kind of like an independent contractor.”
I tried to ignore the guilt in my stomach. I just wanted Krista to be okay with the idea of him. I didn’t want to blow this all up at once without him at least having a chance.
She nodded, too stunned by all of this information that she didn’t think to question my vague answer. “Do you have a picture of him?”
I thought of the photo I’d taken, mounted and displayed, labeled inspiration. “Um, I don’t have one on my phone,” I said, trying my hardest to be honest.
“Oh,” she said, bummed. “Well, I’d love to meet him. Maybe he could come over for a game night or we could go on a double date? Do you think he and Kyle would hit it off?”
I was unable to imagine a world where Dean and Kyle existed together. If Kyle wasn’t talking about finance topics, he only talked about sports. I knew Dean couldn’t even tell me what sport was playing right now.
“Kyle likes coffee, right? Dean knows a lot about coffee,” I offered, trying to keep a bright tone.
Krista nodded. “Yeah. Just let’s not go to Ivy & Roast for a double date. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more uncomfortable in a place,” she said with a laugh, smiling cheerfully at me.
I nodded, staring at her coffee cup, still chewing on my nail.
“Skylar,” she said, her serious tone making me meet her gaze. “Does he make you happy?”
I nodded, my heart pounding, thinking of these past nine months, unable to count how many times he’d made me blush, made me laugh, made me smile, made me happy.
In this moment, Krista was paying attention, seeing me, not distracted, and I knew she could sense something was different. She moved, putting her arm around me. I hugged her, squeezing tight, wishing I could find the words to explain him. Wanting her to understand, wondering if she’d ever really accept it, if she’d be open to a guy like him in my life.
“Sis, if this Dean guy makes you happy…” She pulled away, looking at me, trying to understand, trying to be there for me even though she didn’t know much. “…Then I’m happy for you, okay?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Let’s stay here instead,” Dean mumbled as I silenced my alarm. “That’s much more fun. Can you show me that lingerie again?”
I laughed and sat up in his bed, twisting my tangled b
londe hair in a braid and grabbing my glasses off the nightstand. “No, that was research last night. Now it’s morning, and we’ve moved past that.”
He made a face. “You’re such a strict data scientist.”
I laughed again and reached for my watch, ignoring him.
Last night’s bachelorette party research had occurred at his place, a surprise he hadn’t been expecting.
“So what’s the plan for tonight?” he’d asked after we’d cooked dinner together, a vegan dish I’d found online that I’d suggested we try after we both got off work. “Cause I don’t think a vegan cooking party is what gets people pumped for marriage.”
I’d laughed and stood in front of him. “You know how for some parties, everyone gives the bride different lingerie and then she guesses who gave her what?”
Dean had looked confused from his place on the couch. “No, I’ve never heard of that. How do you plan to research if that’s a good idea?”
I’d placed a bag next to him, grinning. “Oh, I’m not. I already know Krista would hate that idea. But I thought in the spirit of research, I could at least demonstrate some of the options I’d bring, hypothetically.”
“Well, you know how I hate hypotheticals,” he’d said, peering in the bag of lingerie I’d brought. His expression changed, and he’d nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s a very smart, necessary idea, and we need to make this a reality right now,” he’d said, pulling me down on the couch as I threw my head back in laughter.
I got out of bed and looked at him in the morning light, toned and tattooed in the rumpled bedsheets, almost convinced to blow off the brunch we’d dubbed as research.
“Our reservations are at 10.”
“Brunch is so weird to me,” he said, rolling on his side and closing his eyes. “Why does it seem every person in the world craves eggs at 10 a.m. on weekends? But during the rest of the week, they’re fine? It doesn’t make any sense. It’s a conspiracy, I think.”
“What’s the conspiracy?” I asked with a laugh.
He glanced at me and frowned. “I’m not sure yet. Come back to bed, and we can do more research to figure it out together.”
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