"Here we go," he mumbles, running his hand through the back of his hair. "We weren't doing anything anyway, right?"
"Sure, of course," I concede. It's easier than arguing, which isn't what I want us doing considering we're getting married in a few weeks. Straightening my face and masking my disappointment at being left alone again, I give him the out his eyes are so desperately pleading for. "Go with your friends, Myles. We'll catch up tomorrow. It's okay."
"You're sure?" he asks, his eyebrows raised to meet his overgrown hair.
Sighing, I put on a fake smile and say, "Yeah. I'll find something to do."
He wraps both arms around me tightly before squeezing me so hard I feel my bones creak. When he pulls back, his smile is contagious. His mouth hits mine in a hard, crushing kiss before he declares, "Swear to you, Ry. I'll make it up."
"There's a lot to make up for. Careful what you promise."
"I got this." He smiles again before taking my hand for the first time today and leading me back to the car.
★★★
An hour later, I'm sitting in my mom's kitchen watching her cook dinner. We've always lived in Iowa and although steak and potatoes are considered staples of Midwest living, they're also still Dad's favorite.
She's humming to herself as she stands near the counter peeling potatoes. She's always seemed not only content, but happy in being with Dad. They've been married twenty-six years and together twenty-nine. Our family's happiness is something I've always been proud of.
"Have you seen my phone?" my little sister Maggie comes traipsing through the kitchen, grabbing random items from the counters as she announces her presence in a panic. "I've looked, like, everywhere. I seriously can't find it this time."
"Check the bathroom, honey," Mom advises without looking up. "You had it with you before your last makeup-in-the-mirror check."
Physically, my sister is the spitting image of me. She's average height, lean, and blonde. The difference between us is that she's also boisterous and fun. I've always admired her for her ability not to care what others think as long as she stays true to herself. And so far, she has.
"Where are you rushing off to?" I test, hoping like anything I'm about to catch her in a lie in front of our mom. Lord knows she's done the same to me for years. It's payback.
When Maggie doesn't answer, Mom catches the stilted silence and stops peeling potatoes. She turns her back to the pot in front of her and sighs. "Good question," she puts in, looking Maggie up and down and seeing what I do.
Mags is dressed abnormally well for a Thursday night.
Maggie quickly turns to me and narrows her eyes. It wouldn't shock me if she stuck her tongue out, but she doesn't. She hesitates first then bites her bottom lip. Oh yes, my little sister is plotting.
"Mags?" Mom prods. "I'd like an answer now, please."
"Don't freak out," my sister starts, bracing her arms in front of her to placate. Now it's me sucking in my lip, but not from worry but to keep from laughing. "Tyler asked if I could go horseback riding with him and Jamison."
Mom puts down the knife, rests her back against the kitchen counter, and brings her lecturing voice out of wherever she's always been able to keep it hidden, "And you didn't think to ask your father or me? Honey, Tyler is—"
"Older than me! I know this," Maggie cries. "But Dad knows his dad and you know his mom and Tyler and me are friends."
"Friends," Mom repeats, her tone low and knowing. If I'm not mistaken, this conversation just took an interesting turn.
When Maggie looks to me for backup, I sit further up in my chair. "Don't look at me, buddy. I'm engaged to be married and haven't seen my-soon-to-be for over a week. I have no advice here."
Stomping her foot, Maggie raises her voice. "Yes you do! Tell Mom it's okay. Tell her you and Chase used to—"
Whoa.
And no.
"Not another word, Maggie Ryan." When my sister shrinks in place, Mom looks at me and winks. "What time do you suppose you'll be home from riding?"
"What?" I shriek. "Mom! He's older, as in he's twenty-six. Maggie's…."
Mom halts my argument by holding her hand up, her focus on my sister.
Maggie starts to negotiate. I'm almost impressed. "By eleven, how's that? I'll cut my curfew by an hour if you let me go."
"Eleven," Mom contemplates. "Find your phone and make it ten thirty."
"Yes!" Mag exclaims, jumping in place with a smile as I sit at the table and stew.
My sister runs through every room in search of said phone while my mother and I look at each other in challenge.
"You're kidding," I whisper, looking out the kitchen door for Maggie. "Mom, tell me you're—"
Holding up her hand again, something Mom's been known to do, she shushes me with, "In a minute, Ry. Not yet."