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For a moment they just stare at each other, until she places all three books in his lap. Her hand lands much higher up his thigh than she’d anticipated. He jolts, his knee knocking hers again. He makes a frazzled sound that sounds like a mashup of oomph, fuck, and sorry all at once.
His hands curl around the books’ edges, both thumbs running over the pristine covers. “I hate being responsible for this,” he says finally. “It shouldn’t be me.”
“Yeah, I can imagine this is kind of a lot for people our age. Are you sure you don’t want to ask your parents to come help? I mean”—she suddenly realizes how it sounds—“not that I mind helping, obviously. It’s just... they might be a better support for you?”
She gets that they’re not close, but if your son has a whole house thrust upon him, how can neither parent care enough to show up and make sure he’s okay?
“Parents. Help. Support. Pick the one that does not belong,” Ves says dryly.
“Fuck. I’m sorry.” She leans her head against his shoulder, her hand finding his. Her thumb works slow, soothing circles against his knuckles. When he grunts, the taste of his breath—minty toothpaste and chocolatey coffee—ghosts over her mouth. “Can I ask... why Maeve’s family wasn’t close with her, either? She was the loveliest person. It just doesn’t seem, well, fair.”
“Doc Hollins was my dad’s grandfather. Everyone always knew that she was the old man’s favorite. Kept her at his beck and call, according to my father. Daughter, receptionist, general dogsbody.” Ves’s lips form a scowl. “Her life was on hold until he died, so in my mind, she earned every penny. But by then, it was hardly a secret she would inherit everything. And the family hated her for it, though god knows none of them needed the money. Still, her older brother, my own grandfather, used to send my dad, Karl, here year after year to worm his way into the will.”
The look of disgust on his face reveals all she needs to know about what he thinks of his family. “That’s awful. And that’s why he isn’t here? He’s pissed the inheritance skipped a generation?”
“Not pissed at me. But entitled? Very much so. Dad’s never been good at... being there. He’s better with my sister, Hanna. But then, I guess he’s had all these years to learn.” Ves visibly hesitates, scraping his front teeth over his bottom lip. “Karl cheated on my mom, Adeline. A lot. They sent me to stay here with Maeve during their divorce because their lawyers thought I shouldn’t be pulled into the fighting. It was upsetting at the time, and say what you want about divorce lawyers, but at least theirs had my best interest at heart.”
Her heart shrivels. No, crushes. Like the crispy shell of a meringue demolished in a clenched fist. He spoke more fondly of literal strangers than his own parents. No wonder Maeve left it all to him; she must have wanted him to know that he would always have a home here.
“Are you close with your sister?” she asks, now that she has an opening to be nosy. “I bet every only child says this, but I’ve always wanted a sibling.”
“We text. Sometimes whole conversations in GIFs.” Ves laughs under his breath. “I go to all the stuff she invites me to and I take her out to Chinatown every couple of months for this fish-shaped waffle soft serve with red bean paste in the tail that she loves. Hanna calls herself my official beta reader. But it’s hard,” he admits. “I was already an adult when she was born. I’m old enough to be her dad. It makes it hard to be a brother, sometimes. But we’re not nothing.”
“She sounds sweet,” says Elisha. “I know I don’t get a vote, but I’m glad this house is yours and not anybody else’s. Maeve knew seven-year-old you would have to go back home, but she also knew you would always want to come back.”
If there’s a way a smile can be both hopeful and sad at the same time, Ves wears it on his face now. “Can you tell me something she shared with you?” he asks. “About me, I mean.”
“Um, well, I remember this one Christmas... It was freshman year of college, and my first visit back home. It was the first one after Grandma Lou died, so I visited Maeve as soon as I got here. I was expecting her to be sad. And she was, of course, but you know the first thing she did? She told me all about her Thanksgiving trip to New York City. She saw her great-niece for the first time but what she was most excited by was her great-nephew taking her to see a Broadway show and eating at a restaurant with a Michelin star. She could see the Brooklyn Bridge from his fancy-schmancy loft.”
Ves laughs. “It’s far less impressive if you knew the caveat that that was actually my mom’s apartment, her settlement in the divorce, and she let me live there all through college. She also told me to show Maeve a good time and charge everything to my dad’s credit card. But before you think I was too spoiled, I’ll have you know I worked part-time at McNally Jackson for my sake bomb and sushi money.”
The tense moment is broken. Elisha can’t hold back her giggles. “Oh my god, you were a hipster.”
“Hey.” His knee bumps her, this time on purpose. “You take that back.”
“Never,” she vows. Another bump, also on purpose. Now they’re just grinning at each other like fools and she’s once again struck so fucking hard: Ves should smile like this more often. Not that smirky thing he does when he’s being all aloof, or the neutral school-picture-day smile when he’s uncomfortable.
Ves holds her gaze. “If it makes you feel any better, when I graduated the next year, I moved in with Arun. We both needed a roommate and I wanted to stick it to my parents that I didn’t need their money anymore.” He grins. “We had a prime view of the dumpsters and unless we closed the windows, the place reeked of greasy takeout. Sadly, in summer we had to leave the windows open because the air conditioner was always broken and our shady landlord only got off his ass for female renters.”
“Wait, Maeve told me about this trip, too!” Elisha nearly bounces in place. “She said you gave her your room and slept on the couch. I remember thinking how sweet that was.”
It’s like some magical moment is suspended over them, sequestering them from the rest of the world, far away from shitty ex-fiancés and greedy families and cluttered houses. It’s just him and her, staring at each other in a way that isn’t weird in the slightest. He’s all cheekbones and beautifully square jawline, barely-there stubble a few shades lighter than his dark brows. His blue eyes don’t look quite as glacial and his lips aren’t in their usual grim line.
Their hands are still connected and letting go is the last thing she wants to do. She swallows, heat scorching up her neck and prickling over her collarbone. In fact, now that she’s up close and personal, she’s stunned to discover that his wide upper lip has a perfect candy pout. Well, then.
Trying to hold on to the moment, she says, “Why didn’t you ever come back to Piney Peaks?”
His eyes shutter, and that’s when she knows. That this answer is the irreversible flick of the first domino that will send all the others tumbling down. “You ask a lot of questions.”
She senses that she’s overstepped. “Too personal?”
He hesitates.
“...or too painful?” Elisha guesses.
“In this case, they’re the same thing,” says Ves.
Her voice is small as she murmurs an “I’m sorry” that she feels all the way down to her signature alpine-white toenails. She’s been blabbering on about the sweet childhood memories she hugs close to her heart, thinking she’s giving him a little piece of Maeve, when all she’s doing is alienating him further.
