Emma and Luke Are Totally Together

by Rachel Arnett

  “What’s this for?” asks Luke, pulling out a small round container from the pouch.

  “It’s setting powder,” I say. “Just please don’t—“

  But he’s already unscrewed the top. As soon as he opens it up, a tiny cloud of powder puffs up. While he coughs, I snatch the container away from him and screw the lid back on.

  “You should warn a guy,” he says, coughing again.

  I roll my eyes, finish my makeup, and check it at a few different angles in a pocket mirror. If Luke hadn’t just teased me for putting makeup on, I would ask him if I look okay. But I’m sure he’ll make some joke about it, and I’ve had about enough of him already today.

  To my surprise, though, Luke nudges me and say, “Hey. You look nice.”

  I look at him. Is he being sarcastic?

  “I mean, to be fair, I think you look good either way. But the makeup or whatever looks good, too.”

  “Thanks,” I say. He’s probably just saying it because he feels bad about what he said before. But whatever. I’ll take it. I put my things away and settle back against my seat. We’ve just started our descent toward the islands. I gaze out the window and take a deep breath in. It’s beautiful, all that ocean down there. It really is something.

  I feel a ripple of nerves, though, too, thinking about the week that lays ahead. This could be such a huge disaster. Who brings a fake boyfriend along on a vacation, anyway? It isn’t something normal people do.

  Luke seems to sense my uneasiness. He leans closer to me. I can feel his breath gently on my neck.

  “I promise this will go okay, Emma,” he says.

  I really, really hope he’s right.

  10

  Hawaii is beautiful. I mean, of course it is. It’s freakin’ Hawaii. As we disembark the plane and navigate through the open-air airport, it feels as if we’ve stepping straight into a postcard. The sky is impeccably blue; the flora is perfectly green. Even the air feels more pure here.

  Outside the airport, Luke and I stand in line for a cab among a throng of fellow tourists. The driver who picks us up is an extremely cheerful man of undeterminable age who is wearing a taffy pink Hawaiian shirt.

  “First time visiting?” he asks as he merges into traffic. His smile fills up the entire rearview mirror.

  “I’ve been once,” I say, leaning toward the front seat. “It’s his first time, though.” I gesture toward Luke.

  The driver’s grin widens. “Honeymoon?”

  “No,” I say. We can’t possibly have that look about us, can we? “Family vacation.”

  “Ah,” he says. “Excellent. Any children?”

  Is he asking if we have any children? Or if there are any children in the group? I guess it’s the same answer either way.

  “No,” I say, and yawn, a wave of tiredness catching up with me.

  “I’ve got four myself,” he says.

  “Oh, wow,” I say. And I finally notice the photograph taped above the glovebox: a family portrait of himself with a woman I can only assume is his wife and their four children, each head at a slightly different height but all four of their faces reproducing their father’s colossal smile.

  I relax against the headrest and watch the scenery pass by. Palm trees sway spiritedly in the breeze. Teenagers heft their surfboards on the side of the road. Our driver points things out as he takes us up to the north side of the island, telling us the names of places, encouraging us to repeat the beautiful words after him. The Hawaiian language turn into tongue twisters in my mouth, but Luke’s actually pretty good at it.

  “Impressive,” I say, glancing over at him.

  Luke shrugs. “What can I say? I’m a talented guy.”

  I snort and turn my gaze back to the window.

  As we pull up to the rental house, the first thing I notice is the minivan parked out front. For a second, I wonder if I’ve gotten the address wrong. Then I realize that the minivan is the rental vehicle my parents have decided upon.

  I guess there’s a first time for everything.

  Our taxi eases to a stop and our driver jovially announces the fare. I start to get out my credit card, but Luke beats me to it.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him, as we get out of the taxi. “The deal is that you’re getting an all-expenses-paid vacation out of this, remember?”

  “And what happens if I break one of the rules?” he asks, stuffing his wallet back into his pocket.

  It’s a good question. And one I don’t know the answer to.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “Just don’t.”

  I grab the handle of my luggage and start rolling it toward the front door. It’s big, this rental house. I mean, I knew it was going to be nice—Catherine texted us the listing—but in person, it’s even grander. I’m even a little embarrassed about it. I wonder if I should explain to Luke that we don’t always stay in places like this—that it’s different this time since it’s Mom and Dad’s thirtieth anniversary.

  Crap. Their anniversary.

  Note to self: sneak away at some point and buy a gift for them.

  “Everything good?” says Luke.

  “Yep,” I say. I step onto the welcome mat. I know I should be raising my hand to knock on the door, but suddenly I can’t.

  I turned to look at Luke. He returns my gaze.

  “What?” he says.

  “I feel the need to apologize in advance,” I say. “For my family. You know how families…are.”

  “It’ll be fine,” he says. “Trust me. Parents love me.”

  “Met a lot of parents, have you?” I say.

  He smirks. “Are you going to knock or do you want me to?”

  But before either of us can, the door opens on its own. Or, rather, Mom opens the door. She’s looking as lovely as always, only she’s now a tropical version of herself. She’s wearing a flowy tunic and slender white pants and somehow already looks like she has a tan.

  “I thought I heard someone at the door,” she says.

  I step in to give her a hug. She smells of the perfume she’s worn for decades, a scent I have searched for in department stores and have never been able to find.

  “Did you have a nice flight?” she asks.

  “It was fine,” I say.

  She turns her attention to Luke. “And you must be Luke. It’s wonderful to meet you.”

  “It’s great to meet you too, Mrs. Armstrong.” Luke extends a hand, but Mom ignores it and goes in for a hug. Over her shoulder, Luke raises his eyebrows at me and mouths, See?

  Mom pulls out of the hug and takes another look at him. “Good lord, you’re handsome. I can see why my Emma likes you.”

  “Mom,” I say, mortified.

  “Well, he is, isn’t he?” she says. She looks at me as if I’m actually supposed to answer the question. I grab the handle of my luggage and pull it further into the house, which is suddenly more difficult to do because one of the wheels has gone all wonky.

  “Look at this place,” I say. It’s even more impressive, and more embarrassing, inside than out. “Can we get a tour?”

  Mom shows us into the living room, which is decorated in greens and pinks and golds and looks like something out of a catalog—there’s even a bowl of fake fruit placed perfectly in the center of the coffee table. Next, she shows us the dining room, which does not contain fake fruit but does feature a painting of a slightly lazy-eyed horse standing on the beach. It’s one of those bizarre paintings where the eyes follow you everywhere—but only the lazy eye, in this case.

  I turn to say something to Luke about it, but when I look over at him, he’s busy talking to Mom.

  “A blind date?” she’s saying. “How funny. I didn’t know young folks did that anymore these days.” Then she turns to me and says, “Luke was just telling me how you two met, honey.”

  “Ah,” I say. Blind date? Since when did we meet on a blind date?

  “I want to hear more about it later,” Mom says. “But for now, let’s continue on with t
he tour. The kitchen’s through here.”

  We follow her into the kitchen, which is surprisingly normal. No fake objects, no creepy horse paintings. Instead, there’s a large window framing the surrounding view. It’s breathtaking, that view. For a moment, it erases all the anxiety I have about this trip.

  Lastly, we go upstairs, where all the bedrooms are.

  “Dad and I took the master,” Mom says, gesturing toward the end of the hall. Then she points to the bedroom door nearest to us. “Catherine and Kenneth took this room. The other two bedrooms are identical in size, so you two can pick whichever you like and Garrett will take the other.”

  I step into one of the rooms to take a look and then step into the other. The only difference is that one shares a wall with the room that Catherine and her husband are in. Standing there in the adjoining room, I have a flashback of arguing with my sister through our childhood bedroom walls.

  “We’ll take this one,” I say, walking into the room across the hall. Luke follows me into the room, quickly surveys it, and nods in approval. He does a magnificent job of ignoring the elephant in the room: the bed that we are definitely not sleeping in together. I don’t know what our sleeping arrangement is going to be, but I guess we’ll figure that out tonight.

  “Where is everyone else, by the way?” I ask.

  “They’re out in the yard,” says Mom. “Should we join them?”

  I nod. Mom turns and starts to head back downstairs. Luke starts to walk in that direction, too. But I grab him by the wrist.

  “Blind date?” I hiss.

  “Well, I couldn’t exactly say we met at work,” he says quietly, wrenching his arm out of my death grip.

  I want to smack my own forehead. He’s right. We came up with a story to tell our coworkers how we got together, but we never did concoct one to tell my family. God, this whole fake relationship thing is exhausting.

  “Okay,” I say. “Fine. We met on a blind date. What did we do?”

  Luke blows air out between his lips. “Dinner? Italian food?”

  “Okay. And who set us up? A mutual friend?”

  “That’s generally how blind dates work.”

  “Okay, wise guy. Who set us up, though?”

  Luke frowns at me. “Do you even have any other friends in the office?”

  I grit my teeth. “If it comes up, let’s just say Lucinda. Now come on. If we stay in here any longer, people will start getting ideas.”

  We catch up with Mom and follow her out to the back patio, which looks over a lush, sloping yard. On one end of the patio, Catherine is reclined on a deck chair, a sunhat tilted down over her face. She doesn’t look an ounce pregnant. Actually, she looks even more toned than when I last saw her. The long dress she’s wearing somehow both shows off her figure and looks super comfy.

  “Emma and her boyfriend are here,” says Mom.

  Catherine lifts the hat from her face and blinks at us. She has clearly just been napping. But, being Catherine, it’s an elegant nap, from which she wakes up from gracefully.

  “Hey, guys,” she says, and yawns tidily. Her manicured nails glint in the sun.

  Luke steps forward and introduces himself. As Catherine shakes his hand, I watch her expression change. I can practically hear her thoughts, it’s so obvious what she’s thinking: This is Luke? This is the dude that Emma is dating? How did she manage to snag a guy like this?

  Catherine smiles. “Luke,” she says. “It’s so nice to meet you. You’re sort of a miracle, did you know that?”

  “How so?” asks Luke, amused.

  “Well, Emma hasn’t introduced a boyfriend to us since…well, I can’t even remember when.”

  Luke laughs politely. He shoots me a look that says, Wow, okay. Nice sister.

  I breathe in, breathe out. “Where’s Dad?” I ask.

  “Exploring the property with Kenneth,” says Mom as she polishes her sunglasses on her blouse. I gaze out over the yard and spot the two of them examining some big-leafed tree. Kenneth and my dad are both nature buffs; they can talk about that kind of stuff for days on end. It’s nice that they can bond like that. I never know what to say to Kenneth. Although I guess what I would really love to ask him is what made him want to marry Catherine.

  “Garrett’s flight lands in about an hour,” says Catherine. “Once he gets here, we’ll eat something light and then head out to ride the horses.”

  “The horses?” I say, looking over my shoulder at her. Catherine is resting her hands above her head now, to give the undersides of her arms a chance to tan, I guess.

  “Yes,” she says, with that slightly annoyed tone I am so used to by now. “Didn’t you see the itinerary that I emailed out?”

  “I must have missed it.”

  “I sent it out, like, three days ago. Everything that I planned for the trip is in there.”

  I glance over at Luke, worried that this is all too much for him. The over-the-top house, the mean sister, the mother that practically swooned when she saw him. Honestly, I won’t blame him if he wants to get the hell out of here.

  But he looks cool. None of it seems to bother him. Even when he catches me looking at him, he just gives me a questioning look.

  A speck of something makes itself known in my eye. Ugh. It’s that stupid eyeshadow. I blink furiously, willing it to go away.

  “Emma,” says Catherine. My vision clears just in time for me to catch the bottle of sunscreen that she chucks at me. “Put some on. You’re already starting to burn.”

  I scoff. But she’s not wrong. A glance down at my pale arms tells me as much. Still, I can’t bring myself to do as she says. Besides, I brought my own sunscreen, thank you very much.

  “I’m going inside to take a nap,” I say, and throw the bottle back at Catherine.

  11

  In the warm bedroom upstairs, I set an alarm on my phone and pass out on top of the unfamiliar sheets. When I wake, I hear the soft chatter of voices downstairs and head down to find everyone eating in the kitchen.

  “I hope you’re going to take time off from work when the baby comes,” Mom is saying.

  Catherine nods. “The firm has a really generous parental leave policy. I was joking with Kenneth that he should get a job there, too, so that we can both take advantage of it.”

  Garrett has arrived by then, and I hug him hello. I also greet Dad and Kenneth, who are in the middle of discussing the history of sugar production.

  “Hey, peanut,” says Dad. It’s a nickname that kind of makes me feel like I’m twelve years old again—especially right now, in the presence of Luke—but mostly I find it endearing.

  “You guys have been introduced to Luke, right?” I ask.

  “We have,” says Dad. He smiles. “Nice guy.”

  I am, of course, thrilled to get Dad’s approval. Even if it’s all a sham. I guess I hadn’t realized it, but I’d been nervous about Luke fitting in with my family. As it turns out, though, Luke is a natural fit. Glancing over at him now, seeing him talking to Mom, he truly looks at ease.

  I only get to enjoy the feeling of tranquility for a few seconds, though. Sure enough, it’s quickly broken by Catherine.

  “Okay, everyone,” she says, raising her voice to get our attention. “We’ve got some horses to ride! Let’s all meet out front in five.”

  One minivan ride later, the seven of us are filing out of the vehicle and stepping foot onto Royal Falls Ranch. It’s ridiculously beautiful here. There’s endless lush green terrain and views for days. Even Anthony, the tour guide assigned to us, is stunningly handsome. I feel my cheeks go warm when he shakes my hand.

  Anthony tells us a little about the history of the ranch, then gives us a rundown of what to do and what not to do while we’re on the tour. The laundry list of don’ts—for instance, don’t squeeze the horse too forcefully with your legs, don’t hold the reins too tight, don’t slouch, don’t forget to breathe—is mildly alarming.

  “Everyone good?” Anthony asks, scanning the group. His
eyes eventually land on me. He smiles. “Uh oh. You look concerned.”

  “Me? Oh. No. I’m good.” I feel my cheeks heat up again. Damn it. Stop it, cheeks.

  Anthony’s gaze lingers on me for a half-second longer, then he asks us all to follow him into the stable to pick out our horses. I’m glad for the change of subject, but I also have no idea which one to pick. They’re all intimidating, as far as I’m concerned. I swear, one horse even gives me the stink eye. Don’t even, that horse seems to be warning me. Pick me and I’ll fling you off.

  I glance around. Everyone else has settled on a horse. They’ve practically already bonded with their selections.

  “Need help?” Anthony asks.

  I startle. I didn’t notice him approach. “Uh, yeah, actually. Can you help me pick one?”

  “Of course,” he says. He looks me over—a look that makes me blush again—then nods. “I’ve got the perfect one.”

  The horse he shows me to is one that I must have missed. It’s a slightly smaller one, a pretty thing with a speckled white and brown coat.

  “This is Butterbean,” says Anthony. “She’ll take good care of you.”

  “Thank you so much,” I say, reflexively playing with my hair.

  Anthony helps everyone mount their chosen horse—Catherine, of course, looks like some kind of goddess up on hers—and then gets on his own and leads the way toward the trail. Our horses all seem to know to follow him, but still, it’s a little scary straddling something that could break into a full-on gallop in the opposite direction if it wanted to.

  As we start down the trail, Luke sidles up beside me on his horse. “Hey, maybe wipe the drool off your chin?”

  “Excuse me?” I say.

  “The tour guide. It’s obvious you have the hots for him.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say. I carefully squeeze my legs around Butterbean’s sides, urging her to pick up the pace and carry me away from Luke’s accusations, but Butterbean ignores my prompting.