by Banks, R. R.
“It's not my choice, Christopher,” I say. “I can't force Sasha to date me if she doesn't want to.
She just needs help getting out of a stupid situation with her family. Nothing more and nothing less. She told me what happened between us wasn’t going to happen again. She was really clear about that.”
“Was she?” he asks. “Or was she trying to convince herself?”
I turn back to the mirror and smooth out my jacket again, then check my watch for the time.
“Shit. I'm going to be late,” I say, then turn to Christopher. “Thanks for the pep talk, coach.”
I head for the door and his voice calls to me, echoing down the long holiday. “Then get off the sidelines and into the game, Miles! Be the reason she's looking for.”
“Be the reason she's looking for. Right,” I mutter to myself. “That's definitely some Hallmark shit right there.”
Jesus, what happened to my brother?
* * *
“It's wonderful to meet you, Miles,” she says. “I'm Kathy, Sasha's mom.”
“Pleasure to meet you as well,” I say, handing her the bottle of wine and flowers I brought.
“These are gorgeous. And the wine is wonderful. I love merlots,” she beams. “Thank you very much.”
“You're very welcome.”
Sasha stands to the side, an incredulous look on her face. Her mother is the exact opposite – all smiles and full of cheer. She hardly seems like the brooding hypochondriac Sasha makes her out to be. But then again, what do I know?
“Hi, I'm Sarah.”
I turn at the sound of the voice behind me and it's like looking at a carbon copy of Sasha. They have the same figure, raven-black hair, and fathomless blue eyes. Sasha is the taller of the two by a couple of inches, but other than that, they could almost be twins.
“It's nice to meet you, Sarah,” I say. “I'm Miles.”
“The mystery man in the dark SUV,” she says.
“That's me.”
“Tell me, do you make it a habit of bringing girls home at four in the morning?”
Her tone is teasing, but I can tell it really bothers her I brought Sasha home so late. It clearly messes with her plan for the universe. Sarah is obviously a massive control freak, just like Sasha described.
I know because we can usually smell our own. Her compulsion and need for control seems far worse than mine, though. Sarah might even be worse than Chris. The old Chris, at least.
“Sarah,” Sasha scolds her.
I chuckle. “You're what, twenty?”
“Twenty-one,” she corrects me haughtily.
I nod. “Well, one day you're going to meet someone special whose company you enjoy so much, you lose all track of time,” I say. “You'll get to talking and enjoying the conversation so much, the next thing you know, you look up and it's practically the next day.”
I look over at Sasha, who has remained quiet and subdued this whole time. She looks incredibly uncomfortable, like she's afraid I'm going to blow this or something. If she doesn't pull herself together and start acting the part of the loving girlfriend, though, she's going to be the one spending the rest of her holidays being tortured and tormented, as she put it.
“Your sister does that to me,” I continue. “I enjoy being around her so much that I frequently lose track of time. She's great to talk to. Great listener. Funny. Smart. Yeah, I'm a lucky guy. Sasha is the total package.”
“Really?” Sarah asks. “Are you talking about Sasha? That doesn't sound anything like the woman I grew up with.”
“Sarah,” her mother admonishes her.
“You'll have to forgive my sister,” Sasha says. “She's just grumpy because the batteries in her boyfriend ran out this morning, so he won't be joining us for dinner.”
Kathy sighs and looks between her girls, an expression of disapproval on her face. She turns back to me with a sheepish smile.
“You'll have to forgive my girls,” Kathy says. “They tend to forget they're both grown women and not fifteen anymore.”
Sarah looks at me like I've grown a second head, but her mother is smiling wide.
“Yes, I'm talking about your sister,” I say lightly to Sarah. “You really should be nicer to her. She's great. The most amazing woman I've ever met.”
Without another word and a look of sheer disgust on her face – Sarah turns and exits the room.
Kathy shakes her head. “Well, I guess I'll go put these in water,” she says. “Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Sasha says. “We’ll be in shortly.”
Kathy turns and follows her daughter into the kitchen, leaving Sasha and I standing in the living room alone. My first impulse is to pull her to me and kiss her. I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be well received, though, so I fight off the urge as best I can – but it still lingers in the back of my mind
“Laying it on kind of thick, aren't you?” she asks me.
I shrug. “I can lay it on even thicker if you'd like.”
She finally cracks a smile. “Yeah, I think I’ll pass on that.”
I smile back at her. “Your sister is such a charmer.”
“Hence, her being single,” she says. “She doesn't understand why men can't seem to overlook such a repellent personality.”
I laugh. “She's young. Naive,” I say. “She'll grow out of it.”
“I wouldn't count on it,” she says. “My sister is an angry, eighty-year old woman trapped in an immature twenty-one-year old's body.”
We stand there awkwardly, neither of us knowing what to say. The air in the room is charged with a potent sexual chemistry. Our eyes meet and for the briefest moment, I think she's going to reach up and kiss me. I see the desire in her eyes and the familiar tension in her body as her lips part expectantly. She's fighting herself, though, I wish she wouldn't. I wish she'd give in to her urges.
“Anyway,” she finally says, breaking the spell between us. “Thank you for doing this, Miles. I really appreciate you bailing me out like this.”
I nod. “Of course.”
“Sasha, Miles,” her mother calls out. “Dinner is ready.”
I give her a smile. “So? Shall we do this?”
“Yup,” she says. “Let's do this.”
I take her by the hand, the warmth and smoothness of her skin stirring feelings of longing once more. She doesn't pull her hand back, but gives me a warm, genuine smile instead – the first I've seen from her tonight. Together, we walk into the dining room and take a seat at the table.
“Everything looks wonderful,” I say. “I appreciate you having me tonight.”
“We appreciate you coming,” Kathy says.
“Yeah, I’m shocked that you're actually real,” Sarah chimes in.
Sasha glares at her sister, but holds her tongue. I can't help but laugh at the two of them. The sibling rivalry between the pair of them is intense and I can't help but wonder if people see and hear the same thing between Christopher and I – back when Christopher was an emotionless robot, that is.
“Sarah,” her mother scolds her.
“It's okay,” I say. “I've got two brothers and ribbing on each other is just part of the sibling experience.”
“Well, I for one, am certainly more than a little tired of it,” Kathy says. “I imagine your mom has had her fill as well.”
I grin. “Yeah, she's been known to give us a smack upside the head to keep us in line when it becomes too much to handle.”
“Smart woman,” Kathy laughs. “I like her already.”
I take a sip of water as they start to dish out the meal. Sasha starts passing plates to her mother who dishes out large slices of homemade lasagna. The aroma is amazing, and it saturates the air, making my mouth water. Once everybody is served, we dig into our meals and silence reigns for a few moments.
“So, Miles, how long have you two been together?” Sarah finally asks.
I look over at Sasha, not really sure what she's told them. So, I ta
ke a page out of her own playbook and give her a devilish smile.
“Well, it feels like we've known each other forever,” I say.
I give her a wink, wondering if she recognizes her own words thrown back at her. Judging by the sudden flare of color in her cheeks, she does.
“We've actually only been together for about eight months or so in reality,” Sasha says.”
“Well, is it getting serious?” Kathy asks.
“After eight months, Mom?” Sasha says.
Kathy shrugs. “You just never know these –”
I look at Sasha, feigning a look of surprise. “You didn't tell them?”
“Tell us what?” Sarah asks.
Sasha looks at me with a panic-stricken expression on her face. She's begging me with her eyes not to do – whatever it is I'm about to do. I don’t even know yet, to be honest.
“Well, I don't want to let the cat out of the bag, but –”
“Then don't,” Sasha interrupts me quickly. “At least, not yet.”
“Pumpkin, don’t you want your family to be the first to hear the good news?”
“Good news?” Kathy asks.
“Yeah, what good news?” Sarah echoes, a concerned look on her face.
“Nothing,” Sasha says. “We have no news, good or otherwise to report.”
I lean over and kiss her cheek. “You're so shy, it’s adorable,” I tease before turning back to her family. “Actually, we're getting married!”
“Miles,” Sasha hisses.
Kathy clamps her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. Sarah is staring me down with eyes filled with suspicion. And Sasha is glaring at me with palpable murderous intent – like she wants to stab me with her fork. In fact, I wouldn't put it past her to try it later, when we're alone.
“That is wonderful news, Sasha,” Kathy cries. “Why didn't you tell us?”
Sasha looks uncomfortable and shoots another dark glare at me. “Oh, you know,” she says. “I was waiting for the right time.”
“Are you pregnant?” Sarah asks bluntly. “Did you knock her up and now have to marry her or something?”
“Sarah!” Kathy almost shouts. “Stop. This is such an exciting announcement; don't you dare try to rain on your sister's parade. Do you have a date picked out yet?”
Sasha kicks me under the table and shoots me a fresh glare. “Not yet. It kind of just happened,” she says. “We’re planning on a very long engagement. Very long.”
I grin at her but she couldn’t be less amused. I thought it was funny. And it's not like any of this is going to matter in the long run anyway. Once the holidays are over, she'll announce our break up to her family and our lives will go on.
“Kind of soon, don't you think?” Sarah asks.
I shrug. “When it’s right, you just know,” I say and lean over, planting a kiss on Sasha's cheek. “Don’t you agree, honey?”
Though she gives me a smile, I see the rage burning behind her eyes. She really needs to lighten up and have a little bit of fun with this work of fiction we're creating. She's a writer, so this should be a fun exercise for her. No need to take it so seriously.
“I can't believe you didn't tell us before,” Kathy says, a note of genuine hurt in her voice.
“I was going to,” Sasha replies quickly. “When the time was right. I swear.”
“If you're engaged, where's the ring?” Sarah presses.
“It's being sized,” I answer smoothly. “I had it made custom, so it's taking some time to finish.”
Sasha looks like she wants to crawl into a hole and let the earth swallow her whole. Sarah eyes me critically, like she’s desperately trying to prove that this is all a lie and that Sasha and I aren't really together, let alone getting married. For whatever reason, I can tell she abhors the very idea.
I have to say; this girl is incredibly invested in making her sister's life miserable. She's all in on it. It would almost be impressive if it wasn’t such an asshole thing to do.
Of course, she's using almost the same exact tactics that I use on the opposing counsel when I'm in court; Sarah is casting doubt on anything and everything. The girl is smart. Cold and maybe even cruel, but smart. The girl is smart. Cold and maybe even cruel, but smart.
“And how did you two meet again?” Kathy asks.
“Yeah, Sasha's been a bit vague about that,” Sarah chimes in. “Of course, she's been pretty vague about a lot of things when it comes to you.”
I chuckle. “We actually met in a hot yoga class,” I say.
Sasha kicks me under the table, but I ignore it. I'm at least going to have some fun with this – well, more fun than I'm already having at her expense.
“Hot yoga?” Sarah asks with an incredulous expression on her face.
“Yeah,” I say. “Your sister is amazing. She could probably be teaching the class herself. Who knew hot yoga could lead to a lifetime of not just healthy living, but loving too?”
It's a horribly cheesy line, but Kathy laughs anyway, and Sarah gives me a courtesy chuckle. All I get from Sasha is a stone-faced expression. She looks over and gives me a tight smile.
“I'm not that good at yoga,” is all she mutters.
“Sure you are, sweetie,” I say. “No need to be modest among family.”
She kicks me again, clearly not pleased that I'm going off script – not that we actually have a script to work off of – but, I just smile even wider and she tries to play it off.
“I didn't know you were into yoga, dear,” Kathy says.
Probably to avoid having to answer the question, Sasha takes a big bite of food and simply nods as she chews.
“And what do you do, Miles?” Sarah asks.
“I'm an attorney,” I say.
“An attorney,” Kathy says, clearly impressed. “And what kind of law do you practice?”
“Civil law, mostly,” I say. “Typically, my clients are people who've been wronged or injured by corporations. It's my job to make them pay for what they've done. It's probably not as exciting as criminal law and putting bad guys behind bars, but I like to think that I do some good.”
“Wow, a real protector of the weak, huh?” Sarah quips.
“Someone has to help these people,” I counter. “The corporations certainly don't. They’ll try to get away with whatever they can when they think no one is looking. I don't know what that makes me, but I believe in not tearing people down and trying to put some good out into the world.”
I look at Sarah who, at least for the moment, seems to be too flabbergasted to speak. She avoids my gaze, choosing instead to shovel a large forkful of food into her mouth. Sasha does the same as she picks at her food.
Finally, Sarah seems to regain her footing and looks back up at me. “So, Sasha says you live in Los Angeles as well?”
I nod. “Sure do.”
“Huh,” she says. “And yet, your family is here in Washington? That's quite the coincidence.”
I nod again. “Yeah, I grew up over in Shadow Pines,” I say. “Moved down to California for school – I went to Stanford – then relocated to L.A. Been there ever since. I think it's fate that we met, don't you Sash?”
Sasha clears her throat and puts on a smile that couldn't look more fake if she tried. “Yeah, fate. Whatever you say.”
“Wow,” Kathy says. “Shadow Pines?”
I nod. “Yeah, I guess I've been pretty fortunate in life.”
“I'll say,” Sarah says.
Kathy and her youngest daughter share a look that makes Sasha roll her eyes. Clearly, they're more impressed by my zip code than she is. Not that I really blame her. I didn't grow up in Shadow Pines because of anything I did. I just happened to be born into a family with the right connections and resources. Not that I haven't taken advantage of it to the fullest, but the fact remains – I've been very fortunate and privileged in my life.
As I think about it now though, I start to wonder if that was the motivating factor in my decision to strike out on my own
. I wanted to make a name for myself – by myself. While I'm eternally grateful for every opportunity and advantage my surname has given me, the fact that I've been able to build my law firm on my own – well, with Nate – means something to me. It means a lot.
Christ, I sound just as optimistic as Chris and Nate do right now.
“So, Sarah,” I say. “What about you? Your sister tells me you're in school?”
“Yes, I'm taking classes at Washington,” she says. “I'm going into accounting.”
“Accounting?”
“It's a steady, stable job,” she says proudly. “People will always have to pay taxes, so I'll never be out of work.”
“That's very true,” I say. “Smart thinking.”
“It's certainly a lot more practical than trying to be a writer,” she says, her eyes narrowing as she looks at her older sister.
Sasha glares back, her jaw clenching. I understand some of the tension between the two of them. Sarah obviously doesn't approve of her sister's desire to pursue her passion – probably why she treats her so poorly and questions every single decision she makes. And Sasha obviously resents her sister trying to control every aspect of her life.
“Your sister is an exceptionally talented writer,” I say. “She's going to make it. Mark my words. It's a matter of when, not if.”
Sasha looks at me, her eyes wide and a scowl on her face. She quickly composes herself, but I quickly realize my mistake. She doesn't know I snooped through her computer. She should have allowed for the possibility, given the fact that I found out who she is, which means I obviously had to snoop through her things. But I guess she sees a big difference between digging through her purse and rifling through her manuscripts.
“I guess we'll see,” Sarah says. “I just don't think working in a bar and trying to be a writer is the most practical career choice. I think she could do so much more with her life. If she is that talented, why hasn’t she found success yet? She's been at this for at least –”