“Okay, but...” Harley hesitated, offering a question in those blue eyes, not a handshake. “Why do you want a wedding date?”
He returned his hand to the auger, unwilling to tell her the truth and latching on to the first idea that came to mind. “There’s this girl, Sarah, from high school—”
“And you broke her heart.” Harley tsked.
He let her assumption stand. “Having a beautiful woman on my arm will keep my visit simple.” On so many levels.
Harley leaned back and surveyed him as if he was a blouse she was considering from the bargain rack. “And you’ll fix my saw?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Fair enough.” Harley stood and sealed the deal with a businesslike handshake.
Her going complicated things for him.
He just knew it. So it made no sense that he felt like smiling.
VINCE BOUGHT HARLEY a plane ticket.
He packed a bag that included a dark blue suit, matching socks and tie, dress shoes, and an overly starched white shirt.
He took apart Harley’s tile saw.
Like his head, it was a mess. Bushings. Armature. Casing. All ruined. He spent a lot of time searching online for parts and thinking about the week ahead.
But a little voice kept whispering that this trip was as disastrous as Harley’s tile saw. He didn’t just want her to sell the idea that they were dating. He wanted her to sell the idea that they’d been dating for months. And that would require more than a businesslike handshake. That would require more fence-mending between them. That would require answers to questions she hadn’t asked and hadn’t thought of; ones he didn’t want to deal with.
Intending to get her on board with his plan before they left, Vince picked Harley up at her apartment complex on the east side of Houston. She was waiting out front in a yellow tank top and blue jeans, a small duffel bag and a backpack at her feet. Her hair was in its usual long, blond braid and her blue eyes were covered by sunglasses.
She hopped into the truck with a simple, “Hi,” setting her things on the floorboard and making herself comfortable.
He’d expected at least one suitcase, if not two. And maybe a dress or something a bit more feminine for the trip. It was her day off. Usually on her day off or nights out when she had time to change, Harley wore bright colors, interesting patterns, and often skirts and flouncy dresses. They were on their way to a wedding. It was early, but it was already nearly eighty degrees outside and with the humidity, it felt hotter. Why were her legs covered up? And why was she acting as if they were going to a job site?
“Is there a problem?” Harley asked when he didn’t immediately drive away.
“I was thinking how weird this is.” And he didn’t mean his thoughts dwelling on her legs.
“I don’t have to go.” Her voice was very small and very un-Harley like.
It tugged at him, that voice. She didn’t want to go and he didn’t want to take her. He should offer to buy her a saw and leave her in Houston. He drew a deep breath. “I should have told you I asked you to go to this thing because of my family, who are—”
“Nuts,” she finished for him, shrugging.
Vince’s jaw dropped. An image of his dad leapt to mind.
“Isn’t that what everyone says?” Harley shrugged again and turned her gaze toward the Houston skyline, visible through the smoggy haze.
“I suppose.” Although he never said it. Not even in jest.
“It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.” She said the words forcefully, as if trying to convince herself.
Vince let the truck idle, his plan stuck in neutral. He felt obligated to let her know what she was walking into. “Before we go, I need to tell you something.”
“If you want to get back together, I’m going to stay here.” She drew herself up and glared at him.
There. That was more like the Harley he knew.
“You’ve been friend-zoned,” she continued. “I don’t think about you that way anymore.”
Ouch. He hadn’t expected that statement to sting. Not even if it was a good thing. “I’m not looking for a commitment with you or anyone else.”
Down the block, a motorcycle accelerated, winding through the gears quickly, as if there was fun to be had ahead.
Vince held on to the truck’s steering wheel with both hands. He hadn’t ridden a bike in ages. “In fact, I’m not the marrying kind.”
His brother Joe was the Messina intent upon promising “till death do we part.”
“Interesting.” Harley crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze cutting from Vince to the skyline once more. “Are we going to the airport or not?”
The motorcycle revved, calling all listeners to the freedom of the open road.
Vince couldn’t remember a time free of responsibilities, even when he was a kid. “Before we go, I need one thing to be clear. My family will expect us—”
“We’re not sleeping together.” Harley moved her hand to the door, as if preparing to jump out.
Ouch. Vince hadn’t expected that to hurt, either.
“The friend-zone isn’t a deal-breaker, so be it.” Her eyes were glued to the skyscrapers downtown, as if she longed to return to her former life as an architect, where everything had been rosy until she’d encountered one bump in the road.
If she thought being an architect was hard, she was learning that construction could be just as demoralizing. There was a price to be paid for every decision you made in life. Best if she learned that now, before she hit thirty.
The motorcycle came into view. One of those colorful Japanese models young guys rode to pop wheelies and do spin-outs and cheat death.
“It’s not a deal-breaker. But this might be.” Vince waited until Harley met his gaze, waited an extra few moments for the feeling that he shouldn’t take her to materialize, but it didn’t. “I was expected to bring a plus-one to the wedding.”
“You say that as if you told your family who to expect.” Her eyes narrowed. “Who was supposed to go with you?”
He couldn’t tell if there was resentment or jealousy in her voice. “They’re expecting the woman I’ve been dating...or, rather the woman who broke up with me last month.”
“I broke up with you last month.” The corner of her mouth twitched up and then just as quickly turned down. “And you never told me you weren’t interested in marriage.”
“It never came up.” And it had never come to mind. They’d had fun together, seemingly without strings. She’d made no mention of settling down. “I like women, but I’m not going to have kids, which means most women either don’t want to date me or date me with the hopes of changing my mind. And when they realize my mind’s made up, they tend to leave. Promptly.”
“It’s a moot point now.” Her words had an impersonal quality, which gave everything away—her desire for a picket fence, her longing for children, her expectation that he might have shared either dream.
But she didn’t get out of the truck.
So far, so good. “Unfortunately my brothers don’t agree with my decision to stay single and childless.”
“Ah, here’s where the nutty part