by Sarah Havan
“Everybody calls him James now.” She started the car and pulled out.
“No way. No way in Hell.” I shook my head and considered jumping from the car as she hung a left out of the parking lot.
“It’s just for a week.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “No, no, nope.”
“C’mon,” she said, glancing over at me.
“He ruined my life.” Any good memories of him got washed away by that last day we were together. Life went downhill from there.
“He didn’t mean to do what he did.”
“He meant it. You don’t out somebody the way he did by mistake.” I still remembered the anger in his eyes. How he practically spit the words out of his mouth.
“Spence…” she said in the gentle tone she always tried to use to calm me.
“And funny, we were just talking about the way I am. It all started with him.”
“He’s matured so much these past couple of years.” Didn’t seem like enough time for any major change to occur. Much hadn’t changed for me that was for sure.
“So you want me to play silly games with this guy?”
“Silly games, huh?”
“Maggie, I didn’t mean it like that.”
I could see tears building in her eyes. “I just want everything to be perfect.”
“And it will be. Fine, fine, just don’t cry.”
“He wasn’t that bad.”
“He was. You don’t know the whole story.” She didn’t know the parts about us sharing secrets with each other, spending days under the sun side by side, how he betrayed me.
“Because you don’t tell me those kinds of things about you. I have to hear it all through Mom.”
“That’s because it’s usually stuff I don’t want to talk about, and Mom loves to talk about my life, most apparently.” Our mom, Auntie Helen, and our Auntie Goldie spread gossip like wildfire.
“I’m your sister. You should be able to talk to me about anything and everything.” We were pretty close, but sometimes, our age gap served as a huge canyon between us.
“Thanks, but why did you invite him anyway?”
“I’ve kept in touch with Gretchen, and she mentioned inviting him. I hear he’s really sweet.”
“Okay, that’s just weird, her suggesting that. And you hear sweet, I hear red flags. He probably lives with his mom and has a cat with Mr. in front of his name, like Mr. Fluffy Bottoms or something.”
Maggie laughed.
So not the week I had looked forward to. We knew the Vander kids since we were younger. Our dads worked together. There was Gretchen, the oldest, then William, and the littlest, Jimmy. Or that asshole Jimmy. But somehow, I liked him. Almost fell in love with him, but then the day he almost became my first kiss happened. I’ve hated him since. Great, just great.
Chapter Two
I chewed the corner of my lip and contemplated if I needed to take my electronic drawing pad and laptop. Being at a pivotal point in the graphic novel I had been working on made me want to stuff them in my bag. But with all the activities that Maggie had planned, time would probably be short for things like art. I grabbed my sketchbook anyway.
“You better hurry, Spencer,” my mom yelled from downstairs.
I walked out into the hallway and yelled back over the banister. “I’m running perfectly on time.”
My mom appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “But you somehow still always manage to be late.”
“Leaving in a minute.” I went back into my room that was only technically half mine. When I went away to college, half of it got transformed into a scrapbooking station. So my summer was spent amongst hole-punchers, card stock, and bad childhood photos of me. I threw the rest of my stuff into my bag, grabbed my tux, and went downstairs.
“Here you go, honey. I packed you a few snacks for on the road.”
“It’s not that long of a drive, Mom.”
“You never know. You need to put some meat on those bones,” she said, squishing my bicep and handing me a brown paper bag. “Hey, there might actually be something there now.” She meant well, but my mom did not excel at boosting my self-esteem.
“How come this family is convinced I’m still twelve?” I asked, adjusting my bag on my shoulder.
“Because you’re the baby. When you’re fifty, you’ll still be my baby.” And then she pinched my cheek.
“Good to know.”
“I don’t know why you just don’t wait for us. We’ll be leaving in a few.”
“It’ll just be easier for me to have my own car. We’re gonna be there for a week.”
“But we’ll be at a resort.” My mom smiled and emphasized her point with a jab of her finger in the air.
“With every single member of our family. I’m sure I’ll need to get away.” There was a great possibility that the week would cause me to go prematurely gray.
“You can just take our car then when you’re there. No need to drive your own.”
“Mom, I’m going by myself.”
She sighed. “We’ll see you a bit later then. Drive safe.”
“Will do.”
After I got what could have been the world’s largest vat of coffee at the gas station, I was off to Willow Springs, where the resort Lancaster Shores was located. As I drove, I fiddled with the radio, getting nothing but country music. Since the radio had nothing good to offer, I put on a playlist from my phone. Pop music I could sing along to so the drive wouldn’t be so boring.
“I love you. Ooh, baby, I love you,” I sang as I pulled up to the circular drive in front of Lancaster Shores. It was a beautiful white building with cornices and turrets and wraparound porches. Everything a dream wedding seemed to call for. Expansive green lawns stretched all around and just over the way was Lancaster Lake. A beautiful blue body of sparkling water surrounded by luscious green trees. I did have to give it to my sister—it was picturesque. I got out of my car and an old woman who must’ve been pushing ninety, valeted it. I carried my stuff inside, where wedding guests milled all about, some checking in, others talking and hugging and catching up.
“Oh my God, Spence,” I heard as I dropped my bags to the floor, looking around at the ornate, lavishly furnished interior. Running across the lobby, at what seemed like top speed, was Gretchen Vander. If Gretchen was there, then there was a possibility that Jimmy had already arrived, too. Any inner peace the beautiful atmosphere gave me disappeared. Gretchen crashed into me, embracing me in a hug so tight, it left me wondering if I missed out on something because I was never that close to Gretchen, but then I did remember her always being a bit overexcited about everything.
A lung might’ve popped. “Gretchen,” I said. “Uh, I can’t breathe.”
“Oh, sorry, sorry,” she said, releasing her death grip. “Look at you! I don’t think you’ve aged a day since I’ve last seen you. Oh my word, look at me. Crow’s feet, do you see all my crow’s feet?” she asked, waving her hands all about her face. She acted like decades had passed. She didn’t look any different to me—petite, long sandy hair, and her ever present happy demeanor.
“You look wonderful, Gretchen,” I said, giving a smile. I just wanted to check in and get up to my room before I encountered Jimmy, and just the thought of him made my skin crawl.
“Excited about all our activities? We’ve started calling them The Wedding Games. They start after lunch. It’ll be a hoot.”
“Will we be fighting to the death?” I asked because then it really would’ve been a hoot.
Gretchen scrunched up her nose at me and put her hands on her hips.
“But yeah,” I said. “Can’t wait.”
“Jimmy heard he was partnered with you, and I swear that boy almost fainted.” Jimmy was actually not a boy, but a twenty-year-old man.
I forced a smile and nodded.
“I know you two had your differences, and Jimmy was a special kind of quirky, but he was always in love with you. Oh my, I shouldn’t be blabbing this stuff. He wo
uld kill me if he found out.” Gretchen shoved me in the shoulder. I was pretty sure it was meant to be playful, but the force of it made me take a step back.
“I won’t say anything.”
“Let me go find him. He’ll be so excited you’re here.”
“Gretchen, I still have to check in and go up to my room.”
“Okay, okay, later then. See you in a bit.” And Gretchen walked off, on to the next person she recognized.
I ran into some cousins and an old family friend before I was finally able to check myself in. My room overlooked the lake and had bright white bedding that I loved and wanted to dive right into. Hiding in my room crossed my mind, but since they were offering lunch (would’ve much preferred breakfast), I decided to leave the safety of my room and its soft linen. Besides, I’d never hear the end of it from my sister or all of our other relatives if I didn’t show my face. For a moment, I considered changing, since my sister always told me I dressed like a bum, but I wasn’t there to impress anyone, so my T-shirt and cargo shorts did just fine.
“Spence,” my sister squealed when I walked into the dining room.
“Excited?”
“Oh my gosh, I can’t even begin. I can’t believe that all these people are here to see me get married. It’s so weird.”
“Yeah, I can’t believe this many people actually like you.”
“Shut up,” Maggie said with a laugh. “One day they’ll all be showing up for your big day.”
I snorted. “One, way too far in the future, and two, I’ll never have a big day, thank you very much.”
“I thought you guys could get married now.” My sister didn’t mean to, but sometimes, she talked about gay people like we were a whole different species.
“Yes, marriage equality became a thing, but it has nothing to do with that.”
“One day, Spence, you’ll fall in love, and then you’ll know.”
“Know that I don’t want to get married?” I asked, scratching the tip of my nose.
She jabbed me in the shoulder with her finger. “You are so difficult.”
I gave her a big grin, showing all my teeth.
“Would you look at that smile?” One of my distant aunts or maybe like a great cousin or something came over and threw her arms around me.
“Hey there,” I said, hugging her back. She smelled like liquor and lilacs.
“Great Aunt Clara,” my sister said, bugging her eyes at me. “We couldn’t wait to see you.”
“Yes, I couldn’t wait to see you either, Great Aunt Clara.” She still had her arms around me, her large breasts smashing into my chest.
“Such a nice young man. You too will make someone very happy one day, just like your sister here.” She released her grip and gave me a light slap on the cheek.
Maggie smiled. “We were just talking about that.”
“I gotta go eat, over there,” I said, darting away. Somehow the conversation would turn to me and my love life, more like lack of, and if I was seeing anyone. Then when I said no, this look of pity would wash across their faces, like I was the most pathetic person ever. At nineteen years old, on the verge of becoming a college sophomore, I had never gone on one date in my life.
I found a table with my aunt and great aunt and took a seat. Their faces brightened when they saw it was me.
“Spencer,” they both sang out.
“Go get a plate,” Auntie Goldie said. Instead of great aunt, we called her Auntie. She claimed she was still too youthful to be a great aunt. “You’re much too thin.”
“I will. Don’t worry,” I said. “You have the whole week to fatten me up.”
“But you do look thin, honey,” my Auntie Helen fussed. Auntie Helen looked a lot like my mom—round face, rosy cheeks, and small, dark brown eyes. Her eyes were hidden beneath two impressively sized eyebrows, though. My mom would never admit it, but she had the same eyebrow issue, but she obsessively plucked hers.
“Still have that good old metabolism working for me.” It worked too well. They both were correct. I was thin.
“But he still looks lovely,” said Auntie Goldie. She smiled, her bright white dentures shining. When I was younger, I thought her dentures were the most awesome things and couldn’t wait until I could get a pair, but as I got older, I realized it was best to try to keep my teeth as long as possible.
“Thank you, Auntie,” I said. Auntie Goldie was always one of my favorites. She kept it real and said anything and everything that was on her mind. “I’ll go get a bite to eat.”
I got up and walked through the wedding guests and other people staying there just for the weekend. The dining room was bright and inviting with the tall windows and summer sun shining through, leaving long shadows on the floor. I grabbed a plate and got in line, serving myself some fries, waiting for some sort of chicken behind a man who moved at the speed of molasses, probably an uncle or grandpa from Bishop’s side of the family. The old man finally moved on, and I got the tongs and went to grab a piece of chicken, when I noticed sitting in an almost empty serving tray, sat the holy grail of all food, one lone waffle. It was probably stale and leftover from the morning, but I had a special spot reserved in my heart for all types of breakfast foods. But I was too slow, and as I reached out to get the waffle, someone else’s hand swooped in and snatched it up.
“Excuse me,” I said. This person was going the wrong direction down the line.
“Sorry, did you want that waffle?” a deep husky voice asked.
“No,” I said, not looking up, hoping I’d find something else just as awesome to eat. “You cut in front of me. Line starts back there.” With my thumb, I pointed over my shoulder.
“I do apologize, Spence.” Who was this rude person who seemed to know me? I looked up and was met by a pair of dazzling blue eyes and a cocky grin.
“Um,” I said. This guy had cheekbones to die for, and a similarly stunning jawline covered in stubble and with just a perfect tousle of dark blond hair upon his head.
“See you later,” he said, taking a bite of the waffle and smiling again. He walked away, and I stood there watching him, other guests reaching around me for food. My brain knew who it was, but my mouth refused to say his name. I watched his backside as he walked with a confident swagger, his jeans hugging his butt in the best way, his lightweight sweater clinging to the well-sculpted muscles in his arms. So not good.
I got myself some coffee and a cheeseburger, and went and sat back down with my plate of food. I looked around for Mr. Line Cutter aka the one person I was trying my best to avoid, but he disappeared with his waffle. My waffle. And that look on his face. He knew he looked good and just stood there, rubbing it in.
About the Author
Sarah Havan’s writing professor once tried to convince her to change her major to fiction writing. She didn’t listen and ended up getting a degree in stuff. Many years later, she realized she needed to do what she truly loved most, writing. Her fingers haven’t left the keyboard since.
Also by Sarah Havan:
Falling Into Trust
For the past two years, Spence has hated no one more than James; now he’s forced to spend a week with him.
Spence was excited to go up to the lake resort for his sister’s wedding, but that was until she tells him about the wedding games she planned and that she has paired him with a partner, James Vander, the boy he almost kissed. Also, the very boy that ruined his life senior year of high school. For the love of his sister, he says he’ll play along, but when he sees James for the first time in a couple of years, much to his chagrin, he can’t take his eyes off of him. James is no longer that skinny boy with braces. He’s a scruffy, self-made millionaire at the age of twenty, and they can’t deny the attraction they feel toward each other.
If Spence can get over his trust issues, he might be able to let James into his life, but James might prove that he’s not worthy of his trust.
And due soon:
Expecting
Sarah Havan, One Night Alone