CHAPTER 6

~ JAMIE

At ten o'clock sharp the next morning, the doorbell rang.

I opened the door to find Simon Hart in charcoal linen pants and a white button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, Ray-Bans covering his eyes. He looked like he'd just stepped off a yacht in the south of France, not like he was about to spend the day with a dying woman and her dysfunctional family.

"Punctual," I said, surprised.

"I told you I would be."

I looked him up and down.

"You're really going to meet my grandmother dressed like that?"

He glanced down at himself. "What's wrong with it?"

"You look like you're about to go seduce someone."

A slow smile curved his mouth. "Jamie, I thought that was the whole point. To charm your family." His gaze slid over me, unapologetically. "And you're not looking too bad yourself. I see you took my advice from yesterday."

"Shut up, Hart."

I rolled my eyes and got into the car.

As soon as he pulled out, he asked, "Where does your grandmother live, anyway?"

"Westchester. About an hour from here."

"Got it. We'll be there in under forty."

The drive went smoothly until we were a few minutes out from Westchester. Suddenly, the car started vibrating, followed by a dull thud from one of the wheels.

"Shit." Simon jerked the wheel, slowing down.

"What was that?"

"Flat tire." He pulled over to the shoulder, the car tilting to one side. "Stay here."

I killed the engine and got out, following him. He was already at the trunk, pulling out the spare.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Changing the tire. What does it look like?"

"I know what it looks like." I crossed my arms, watching. "I'm just surprised. You actually know how to change a tire?"

He rolled up his sleeves, exposing muscled forearms, veins prominent. He knelt by the side of the road and got to work on the lug nuts, back muscles shifting under the fabric.

"I'm not just a pretty face." He didn't look up from the wheel. "Learned to change a tire before I learned to drive."

I stayed quiet, watching him work. He was fast, efficient, movements precise. The muscles in his forearms flexed with every turn of the wrench.

I shouldn't have been looking. I definitely shouldn't have been noticing how good he looked—not just good, but competent.

"Done." He stood up, wiping his hands on a paper towel. "Okay, let's go."

"Wait." I pointed at the flat tire on the ground. "You're just leaving it there?"

"I'll put it in the trunk." He grabbed the tire, tossing it into the trunk with an ease that made my eyes widen. "Worried, Counselor?"

"No." I shook my head, getting back in the car. "Just surprised."

"Surprised by what?"

"That you actually know how to do something useful without an assistant around."

He laughed, that low, rough sound that did something funny to my stomach. Slid into the driver's seat, started the engine. "You're starting to get to know me, Jamie."

***

A short while later, we pulled up to my grandmother's house. Red brick, a wooden porch, a garden full of flowers. The late-morning sun gilded the walls, and I could hear the murmur of voices drifting from inside.

My heart hammered as the car stopped.

"Ready?" Simon asked, his voice suddenly soft.

"No." My hand trembled on the handle. "But I'm going."

I stepped out of the car, and the fresh country air filled my lungs. We climbed the porch steps. My finger hovered over the doorbell.

And then Simon's phone slipped from his hand.

The sound of it hitting the wood was followed by a clatter—the device had rolled into the garden, disappearing among the rosebushes.

"Shit." He bent down to grab it. "Hold on a second."

"Never mind." My voice came out urgent. "You can find it later. The door is already—"

The door swung open.

And my heart stopped.

Inside, the room was packed. Not just my parents and my grandmother, but aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins—dozens of familiar faces. And them. Vanessa and Oliver.

Everyone turned to look at me at once.

The buzz of conversation and laughter died instantly. The silence was so absolute I could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall.

They were staring at me. Staring with that expression I hated.

Pity.

"Hey, everyone." My voice came out small, barely a whisper. I lifted my hand in a timid wave.

One of my aunts, Aunt Marta, was the first to speak.

"Oh my God. She actually came."

The comment pierced my chest like a needle. She actually came. Like my presence was a sad surprise. Like I was the poor thing everyone expected to stay home.

I felt everyone's eyes on me, judging, comparing, pitying. Vanessa was standing next to Oliver, her hand on his arm, her engagement ring glittering in the light. She smiled at me—a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Jamie! So glad you could make it!" Her voice was sweet, syrupy.

I swallowed hard. My heart was in my throat. I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. I wanted to go back in time and never leave the house.

And then, from the garden, I heard Simon's voice:

"Got it!"

I looked up and saw him emerging from the rosebushes, phone in hand, a dry leaf stuck to the shoulder of his white shirt. He took the porch steps in two strides and wrapped his arm around my shoulders with such perfect ease that I almost believed we were a real couple.

"Hey, family!" He smiled at the room, that wide, confident smile that made half of New York fall in love. "Sorry we're late. Had to change a tire on the way." He glanced at me. "Jamie was worried we wouldn't make it. I told her, if I promised to bring my girl, I was going to bring her."