I jump from the table I’m sitting at with Dax’s friends and as I pass the bar where his uncle Ryan is doling out shots, grab a plastic cup of Fireball and down it. It burns my throat as I hurry to the edge of his property, taking deep breaths to calm myself.
I feel a presence behind me, and don’t have to look. I know it’s Dax before he even puts his warm hand on my bare shoulder. “Is this a good time to escape?” I ask him, managing a strangled laugh from deep within my throat.
“Katydid,” he says, his low drawl soothing me. “If your mom is willing to be here with him, you can do it, too.”
I know he’s right. But that doesn’t keep my feet from feeling like they’re encased in cinderblocks. I manage to turn around and see my parents sliding onto a bench at a picnic table, across from Mr. Harding, who has promised his son twice that he’d go easy on the sauce today. Even so, he has two empty beer bottles in front of him. I swallow.
Talk about people who are total one-eighties from each other.
This is never going to work.
Dax takes my hand and guides me back toward the crowd. As I approach, I hear my father laughing at something Mr. Harding said. And not just polite laughter, a real, big, loud, belly laugh. His body is still shaking as I approach. It’s then I remember that my dad and Dax’s dad went to high school together. I’d assumed from what Mr. Harding said that they were on opposite sides of the social circle, like Dax and me, so foreign to each other that they’d barely recognize each other. But then my father exclaims, “I miss those days. That was a good time.”
Wait. My father and Dax’s father actually had good times together?
My father suddenly looks up at me, and his laughter dies in his throat. “Hi, sweetheart,” he says, and I can almost taste the remorse hanging in the air between us.
“Hi.” I look at my mom and say, woodenly, “I’m glad you guys could come.”
“Of course, sweetheart,” my mother says, making room for me on the bench next to her. “We couldn’t miss this.”
I manage a smile, though I’m not sure what she means. Like they really care about Dax’s announcement that he’s opening a new business. Maybe they are finally accepting it; that Dax and I are together and anything he chooses to do will impact their daughter. Dax shakes hands with my father and it’s all very cordial and friendly, even if it is still so surreal.
For the next few hours, Dax grills burgers and dogs. My father downs a few beers with Mr. Harding, talking about the old times. Turns out, they were friends in high school, and hung out in the same group. From what I piece together, they even dated a few of the same girls.
My mother and I talk about how Aunt Ellie’s house down in Florida and how it has a swimming pool right on the ocean, plus another guest room, if I ever want to stay with them. I keep sneaking looks at Dax, who looks utterly edible, manning the grill, making the most delicious burgers I’ve ever tasted. Vincent and I team up against Tom and Eric for a game of quoits and beat them handily. A lot of trash talk ensues.
Nothing explodes. The world doesn’t end. The biggest scene gets caused when a few people get a little shitfaced. My parents included. I get a little shitfaced, too. It doesn’t really matter, though, because everyone is having fun.
And perhaps most surprising of all—even I’m having fun.
The sun begins to set. More drinks flow. The music gets louder. Dax had strung up strands of tiny white lights on the porch, and they sparkle overhead like stars. Soon people are dancing on the lawn.
Dax lifts me to my feet and then I’m swaying against his body, his strong arms around me, warding off the late August chill. The only way this could be more perfect would be if we were alone, making love . . .
I feel a pang of longing deep within my abdomen as he suddenly whispers, “Katie” into my ear.
“Mmm?” I close my eyes and press my cheek against his broad chest, content.
“I need to tell you something.”
“I’m listening,” I murmur, even though what I’m really listening to—what’s my world right now—is the beat of his heart. So steady, so strong, so fierce, so like Dax.
“I lied to you.”
I break out of whatever trance I was in and look up, searching out his eyes in the bare light. Always calm, always in control Dax is gone, and now, he looks a little worried. More than a little, actually. He’s fidgeting. Since when did Dax ever fidget? “What? About what?”
He kisses me absently on the side of the head, then sits me down in a lawn chair. Kneeling in front of me, he says, “We can talk about this later. I have to make the announcement.”