“Delete it,” I order, laughing despite my horror at the picture.
“No chance.”
I lunge for his cell phone, but he holds it high above my head, infuriatingly calm.
“This one’s a keeper. It’s natural. Candid. The fans will love it.”
“What fans?” I demand.
“The fictional fan base I’ve decided we have,” he says, pokerfaced. “The ones obsessively tracking our whirlwind romance.”
“Right.” I cross my arms. “Will they also be told I nearly murdered you immediately after this was taken?”
“Yes, and they’ll think it’s endearing.”
He winks at me and tucks his cell phone safely away.
“A-hole,” I mutter.
He laughs. “If you’re going to swear, then you should do it properly. Asshole. That’s how you say it.”
I turn away from him in disgust.
We wander around the island, drifting past groups clustered around tour guides waving little flags. I catch fragments of the history they are discussing, the significance of broken chains at her feet, and how the original copper used to shine like a lucky penny before the weather turned it green. Apparently, her face was modelled on the sculptor’s mother’s face. A lie, no doubt, but tour guides have to earn their keep too.
Finally, we board the ferry for Ellis Island.
Ellis Island has a completely different atmosphere. The building is beautiful, but solemn, its vaulted ceilings echoing with the footsteps of the generations who have come before us. We float in hushed tones through the exhibits. Families stare out at us from sepia-toned photographs, the children clutching battered suitcases, the women in kerchiefs, and the men in flat caps, all with eyes full of hope and exhaustion.
“Can you imagine?” I whisper, my fingers grazing the cool marble of the wall etched with names. “Leaving everything behind on the promise of a better life, stepping into this hall not knowing what comes next?”
“It must take some serious guts,” Rhett says softly. His voice is different here, quieter. Thoughtful. There is something unspoken under it, but he doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t push.
We wander into the Registry Room. It is a vast space with arched windows flooding light across tiled floors. Children’s laughter rings oddly in the cavernous hall, mingling with the ghosts of history. It’s moving, in a way I didn’t expect it to. My throat feels tight, and I have to blink hard as we step back out into the bright sunlight.
“Are you ok?” Rhett asks gently.
“Yeah,” I say, smiling faintly. “Just … it’s a lot that place, isn’t it.”
He nods. “Yeah. It is.”
The ferry ride back is calmer, the crowd less frenzied. People have become more subdued after the visit to Ellis Island. We snag a spot near the rail, watching Manhattan inch closer with every roll of the water. Rhett slides his sunglasses back on with maddening ease, like he’s in an ad campaign, and I try very hard not to stare at the sharp line of his jaw, the way the sunlight brushes over his cheekbones. And then, casually, he detonates a bomb.
“I hope you’re hungry, because we’re having lunch with my parents when we get back to the mainland.”
I spin around so fast I nearly knock into him. “Excuse me? I thought you said we were having lunch with your parents, but you can’t have said that because even the idea of it is crazy.”
He’s maddeningly relaxed, leaning against the rail, his lips turned up into that smile he has that makes me half want to smack him, and half want to jump his bones.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”
“Fine? Fine? Do you hear yourself?” My voice pitches high, but I don’t care. I need him to see how crazy his idea is. “You can’t just spring parents on someone, Rhett. Jeez. Meeting the parents is a big milestone. Meeting the parents is like a relationship level one-hundred and fifty. And even in our fake relationship, we’re barely at level five.”
He chuckles, which only makes me glare at him harder.
“Relax. They’re not dragons. They’re nice. You’ll like them.”
“I actually like dragons, but that’s not the point,” I reply. My pulse is galloping. “Meeting your parents is a serious business. They’ll know instantly that I’m a fraud.”
