Kiss Her Once for Me (91)

Andrew drops my hands. “You’re not in love with my sister.”

“I kind of am, though.”

“You don’t even know my sister.”

“Except I do.” Another steadying breath. I imagine I’m like Jack, as steady as an oak tree, confident and sure. “Do you remember on our weird not-first-date, when I told you about the woman from last Christmas? The one I met in Powell’s and spent the whole day with?”

“From the napkin drawing?” He does a slow nod, and I give him a minute to get there. He gets there. “Wait, you’re saying that was Jacqueline? That Jacqueline was your snow girl?” Andrew takes one large step back from me. “Have you been stalking my sister?”

“Andrew, no! I had no idea you and Jack were related!”

“You mean to tell me that this whole week, you and my sister have known each other and said nothing? My sister has been keeping a secret from me?”

“You’ve also been keeping a pretty big secret from her, buddy.”

He stares up at me, mouth all the way open. “And you… had sex… with my sister?”

“And you had sex with your sister’s best friend. It’s a whole messy love trapezoid thing.”

“How on earth did this happen?”

I cross the room to sit down next to him on the bed. This news all seems to be coming as a bit of a shock to his little system, and I put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Well, I think we both entered into this fake relationship because we were trying to run away from real feelings we had for other people. And those people just so happened to be with us at this cabin. So that’s how it happened.”

Andrew groans. “Real feelings suck, though.”

“I know.”

“You… and my sister?” He side-eyes me. “Is that why you wanted to come clean about everything the other night?”

I nod. “Did you come clean? To Dylan, I mean?”

The sheepish look on his face says he did not. “I wanted to. I wanted to tell them everything. As soon as we were alone on the mountain, Dylan confronted me about why I was marrying you, and I said I was having doubts, and then they just… kissed me.”

Good to know Dylan has no respect whatsoever for Ellie and her fake relationship.

“I really wanted to tell them everything!” Andrew dejectedly drops his head onto my shoulder. “But there’s this feeling in my chest, this… fear, I guess. That I’m going to mess it up or let them down. That if I tell them the whole truth, then there’s nothing left for me to hide behind and I’ll just have to… to let them love me.” Andrew lets the weight of that decision settle across my skin. “I couldn’t even tell Dylan I’m in love with them.”

I realize that I’d used the L-word in regard to Jack with Meredith and again now with Andrew, but I hadn’t even remotely dared to cross that bridge with Jack. Maybe because I’m afraid she won’t say it back.

Or maybe because I’m afraid she will.

“Wait. You didn’t tell Jacqueline the truth? About our engagement being fake?”

“No. I didn’t think it was my secret to tell.”

Andrew pulls away from me and rises from the bed. “Wait, are you telling me Jack doesn’t know our relationship is fake? You slept with her, but she has no idea about the trust fund?”

I shake my head. “No, you told me I couldn’t—”

“Okay, on the one hand, I’m pretty hurt that my sister would sleep with someone she thought was my fiancé, but on the much larger, more important hand.” Andrew’s brown eyes go shock-wide in his handsome face. “My sister… she’s a self-righteous, stubborn motherfucker. You should have told her the truth.”

The dread trickles down my insides like beads of sweat, pooling in my gut. “But the money. The Butch Oven. You said—”

“Do you love my sister?” Andrew demands.

“Y-yes, I—I think so…?”

Andrew reaches out for my hand. “Then we need to come clean right now.”

It’s apparently pertinent that we run, not walk, through the hallways and down the stairs, Andrew dragging me back to the family, but even running, we’re too late.

As soon as we enter the living room, still hand in hand, everyone looks up at us. There’s a stillness draped over the room, a creeping sense of wrongness. I take in the tableau of the family and try to understand it. Jack is sitting on the couch with her laptop open, the grandmas flanking her on either side like stone statues. Meemaw looks guilty as she sips her sangria. Lovey looks furious as she stares down her grandson. Dylan is sitting on the arm of the couch, chewing on the skin around their thumbnail. Katherine is a few feet away, pacing the carpet, and Alan is behind the couch, looking at the computer screen over Jack’s shoulder.

Alan sees us, sees our joined hands, and glowers.

“Everyone, Ellie and I have something we need to say,” Andrew starts.

“What’s going on?” I ask before Andrew can say anything else. Because it’s clear something is.

Jack looks up at me, and her face is different than I’ve ever seen it. Locked up, tucked away, completely devoid of the love and affection she showed me in the last twenty-four hours. I want to understand what happened, what changed, but I think deep down, I already know even before she says it.