Six Month Rule (Kingston Ale House) (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Gemini: Today could be your game changer, but only if you want it to be—and only if you let it happen. Look past your boundaries, especially if you are the one who put them there in the first place. Self-imposed walls are easily torn down if you weaken the foundation.

Holly groaned. Brynn glanced at her from her peripheral vision, keeping her eyes on the road, and grinned. A self-satisfied, I-told-you-so, shit-eating grin.

“What?” her sister asked, her inflection rising with feigned innocence.

“
You,
” Holly said, wagging a finger at her sister. “You did this.”

Brynn pulled into the suburban train station nearest their parents’ new condo, parking her mom’s car in a spot facing the track. They were ten minutes early, so Holly could enjoy the cold sweat and clammy hands awhile longer.

They’d spent the night with their parents, a tradition since both had moved out, cooking and preparing and then watching their dad’s favorite movie of the season,
Planes, Trains, and Automobiles
. Maybe it was a silly comedy, but it was also a movie about being with the people you loved most for the holidays. Holly knew what the cold sweat and clammy hands were for, but she’d be damned if she was going to give her sister the satisfaction.

With the car in park, Brynn could turn to face her sister now, and Holly thought she might choke on the smugness.

“Fine,” Brynn said, arms crossed. “Just admit you’re in love with him, and we’ll call the whole thing off.”

Holly whacked her head against the back of her seat, groaning once more.

“He’s going to be here any minute,” she said. “It’s not like we can just leave him stranded at the train station.” Plus, her parents knew her out-of-town
friend
from work would be joining them tonight. It would look odd if they came home empty-handed.

Brynn shrugged. “Suit yourself. You’re just not woman enough to own up to your
feelings
.”

Holly shook her head and closed her eyes, replaying their restroom visit from Monday afternoon. She never should have told her sister about Will professing his love for her when he thought she was asleep.

“Of course he loves you,” Brynn had said. “I knew he was falling for you the night he took you to file the police report for the break-in and then cared for you while you were sick. Duh, honey. That’s when I fell for Jamie in high school.” She’d let out a wistful sigh. “Took us another decade to get our shit together, but look at us now.”

Holly knew where the conversation was going. She just wasn’t expecting the challenge.

“You love him, too, right? Tell me that finally my baby sister has fallen in love.”

But Holly held her tongue. What would have been the point, then or now, admitting to Brynn that she maybe, possibly thought she loved Will? That didn’t mean she’d still have those same feelings come New Year’s Eve.

“What are you going to tell Mom?” Brynn asked. God, Holly swore if there was a table in front of her sister instead of a steering wheel, she’d be steepling her fingers right about now.

“About what?” she asked.

“About the way he’s going to look at you all afternoon and evening. About the way you’re going to look back at him when your eyes meet across the table. About—”

But Holly was saved by the bell that warned of the approaching train.

Shit.
Will was on the approaching train.

She reached for the door handle but didn’t make it out of the car fast enough to miss Brynn saying, “If you’re not in love with him, why do you need me as a buffer for a ten-minute car ride?”

Holly didn’t look back at her sister, just huffed out a breath into the crisp November air, watching as it formed a small cloud, and then made her way to the platform as the train came to a halt.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Ms. Chandler.”

Goose bumps peppered the skin on Holly’s neck, but they had nothing to do with the chill in the air. She spun to her right to see Will standing there. She’d been looking for him in the wrong direction.

For the first time in five months, she wasn’t sure how to greet him, and Will seemed to be waiting for her to make the first move. What she wanted to do was grab the lapels of his double-breasted wool coat and tug his head down to hers. Though he’d accepted Brynn’s invitation to come to Thanksgiving dinner, they hadn’t been alone since—no opportunity to discuss what they were getting themselves into. He’d had a late-night overseas conference call on Monday, and Holly and Brynn had a preholiday get-together with out-of-town relatives on Tuesday. Whatever happened at dinner tonight, she was determined to have Will ride the train home with her, to her place, where she planned all sorts of ways for the two of them to work off the Thanksgiving eat-fest. But right now, she didn’t know whether to kiss him or shake his hand.

“Holly? Is everything all right?”

She shook herself from her daze and stared up at him. Finally he closed the distance, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.

“Hi,” she said. “I mean yes, everything’s all right. I just—you startled me, is all.”

His mouth was still by her ear, and as she pulled away he whispered, “I do like to keep you on your toes, Ms. Chandler.”

Brynn honked the horn, and Holly stifled her gasp and instead rolled her eyes as she took a step away from Will.

“My sister’s a little impatient today,” she said and tugged on the strap of the leather messenger bag slung across his torso. “We should go.”

Holly offered him the front seat of her mom’s SUV, but Will shook his head, climbing into the back before she could protest. So she climbed in next to her sister in time to see Will lean forward and plant a kiss on Brynn’s cheek.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Brynn. Thanks for the lift.”

“My pleasure,” she said, then gave Holly a knowing grin. “Quite the charmer, isn’t he?”

Holly didn’t respond. She just fastened her seat belt and sat back, going over in her mind how Will had greeted her sister the same way he had greeted her. What was up with that?

The quick ride to the condo was a quiet one, and when the three of them walked in, they were greeted by Holly’s dad, Jamie, and Jamie’s dad parked on the couch in front of the TV with beers in hand, already shouting at the first of three football games that would be on throughout the day. Guests weren’t officially arriving until three, but the Kingstons had come early, wanting to spend as much time with Jamie and Brynn before the two of them ate their fill and headed to Jamie’s mom’s house for round two. Holly could see Jamie’s stepmom in the kitchen with Holly’s own mother, no doubt gossiping about when Jamie would pop the question.

“There are my girls!” her dad called, waving them over to the living room. “Introduce your friend and get him a beer, sweetheart!”

On instinct, Holly threaded her fingers through Will’s before they approached, and he squeezed her hand as she did. She’d spent all morning worrying about herself, and she hadn’t thought about what this must be like for him, that he would be every bit as nervous as she was, if not more.

“Dad, Mr. Kingston, this is Will,” she said, then glanced at her sister’s soon-to-be fiancé, who was already standing and greeting Brynn with a kiss. “You already know Jamie,” Holly added. “Will is the publicist on the big account I’m working on.”

Holly’s dad stood and extended a hand.

“Ed Chandler,” he said as he and Will shook.

“Pleasure, sir,” Will responded. “Thank you for having me.”

“George Kingston,” Jamie’s dad said, all of them standing now. “Been trying to get your girl here to call me George ever since she graduated high school, but you know what they say about old habits.”

Will’s grin was broad. “I’d love to hear more about Holly’s high school years,” he said. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about her life outside Trousseau.”

Holly’s dad laughed. “What life outside Trousseau?” he asked, and Holly winced. Will smiled politely at the joke, but it seemed he didn’t find it as funny as good old Ed.

Will let her hand go, and their small moment of connection was severed as he reached into his bag and produced a bottle of red wine.

“Jamie, always a pleasure,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought this for the Chandlers.”

Jamie chuckled. “Are you kidding? It’s not a requirement to drink beer in my presence—though I’m working on it. Actually, I think Deb and Shelly are almost out of red already. They’ll be thrilled.”

“I’ll introduce you,” Holly said, and Jamie headed back to watch the game while she and Will made their way to the kitchen. Before Holly could say a word, her mom had wrapped Will into a welcoming hug.

“Look at this tall drink of British water, Deb,” her mom said to Jamie’s stepmother. “I’m so glad Holly didn’t let you spend the holiday alone.”

Will grinned and handed her the bottle of wine. “Happy Thanksgiving, Mrs. Chandler,” he said, but she waved him off.

“Please,” she said. “It’s Shelly. And Holly, sweetheart, can you go and grab the wine opener? I think your father left it in the other room.”

Holly looked at Will expectantly, and he gave her a confident grin. He’d be okay for a few seconds on his own. But when she returned with the wine opener, it was as if she’d never been there at all. Her mom and Deb were hovering over each of Will’s shoulders as he showed them something on his phone.

“Holl!” her mom called when she noticed her standing there. “Have you seen William’s daughter, Sophie? He’s showing us pictures on his phone. Gorgeous, just
gorgeous
!”

She took one step into the kitchen and dropped the bottle opener on the kitchen island, avoiding eye contact with Will before retreating back to the living room and collapsing into a recliner.

No. She hadn’t seen pictures of Sophie. In all the months she’d known him, all Will had ever shared about Sophie was her name and age. He didn’t offer up photographs or videos, so she didn’t ask. She realized that in addition to him knowing only Trousseau Holly,
she
only knew Trousseau Will. Yet three minutes in her parents’ home and he was showing complete strangers what he’d never shown her.

Will met her in the living room several minutes later, after what must have been a slide show titled The Part of Will’s Life Holly Doesn’t Get to See. Will’s coat and bag were deposited in the spare room, and he relaxed in the recliner next to hers. She figured all he had to worry about now was staying awake in the ridiculously comfortable chair. All
she
had to do was obsess for the rest of the afternoon and evening over what it meant that Will was opening up to her family about parts of his life he’d kept private from her.

How could he say he loved her yet not share the most important aspect of his life? Maybe today was all Brynn’s doing, but he was here, with Holly’s
family
, and she’d never even seen a photo of Sophie.

Her throat tightened. What if he saw her avoidance of the subject as indifference? She’d always assumed if he didn’t bring up the whole fatherhood thing, it wasn’t her place to do so. Like an unwritten part of their rules.

But the rules were changing. It didn’t matter that he’d thought she was asleep. Will had said what he said, and she’d heard what she heard, and now there were expectations. And feelings she wouldn’t admit to her sister and was terrified to admit to herself. Because it was just physical chemistry. And that
bloody
English accent.

She sat silent, thankful for the white noise of the football game on TV. Her dad and Jamie filled Will in on who was playing and whom to root for. Just like that he’d infiltrated her life outside of Trousseau, one that she would argue
did
exist, and he fit in seamlessly. The question was, where did she fit in all of this?

She hadn’t realized her sister was still standing next to her. “Game with the boys or wine with the ladies?” Brynn asked, appearing behind her chair.

Holly blinked, looking from the living room to the kitchen and back again.

“Wine with the ladies,” she croaked, her throat suddenly dry. She had been the one, initially, to insist they were just playing at this. A game that would end when their arrangement ran its six-month course.

So why did her chest ache as Brynn led her toward the kitchen and away from Will? Why did a lump rise in her throat to know he had this whole life an ocean away that didn’t include her? And why, for the love of Häagen-Dazs, did it feel so right to have him here with everyone else she loved?

Oh.

Oh, no.

This wasn’t a game anymore.

A turkey, stuffing, two kinds of potatoes, homemade cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, and pumpkin pie later, the Chandler friends and extended family were scattered throughout the kitchen, dining room, and living room. Holly stood outside under the pretense of making sure the grill was turned off when really she just wanted a few minutes to herself.

Will had fit in so seamlessly. Her mom and Deb took to him immediately, but then again, who could resist that charm? When Will turned it on, anyone within a ten-mile radius was helpless against it. But then he’d sat with her dad and let him go on about the two teams playing, even though she was sure Will took no interest in American football before tonight. Seeing him through their eyes only made her wonder about things she didn’t have the luxury to wonder about—like permanency or what it meant that she
wanted
him to share with her the parts of him he kept locked up so tight.

A knock sounded on the glass slider, and she turned to see Will holding two glasses of wine and motioning for her to open the door.

She blew into her hands and rubbed them together, then slid the door open so Will could join her.

“Thirsty?” he asked, a lazy grin on his face.

She reached for one of the glasses and took a sip of what she assumed was the merlot she’d last seen open on the kitchen island. The liquid warmed her throat and belly, and she relaxed into a smile.

“I’m getting a little jealous of these stars,” he said. “They seem to keep your attention more than me tonight.”