I hesitate, not wanting to leave Oliver alone with the others. He gives me an encouraging nod, though, despite the worry in his eyes, and I slowly withdraw my hand from his. “Be right back.”
Jemma leads me to the other side of the massive staircase, her boots clicking against the polished floor. When we’re out of earshot, she wheels onme.
“What the actual fuck, Devin? Have you lost your mind? Why is he here?” She clutches her forehead. “I knew you were keeping something from me, I knew it. You’ve hardly been answering your phone, and?—”
“He’s different now, Jem.”
She drops her arms at her sides, limp as a puppet. “Different?”
“Yes. He?—”
“Do you hear yourself?” Her eyes narrow in concern.
“Yes.” I swallow hard. “I do. We’ve been slowly getting to know each other again since he moved to Pine Island?—”
“For you?”
“What?” I laugh. “No. For his new job. He didn’t even know I was there.”
“Right.” She crosses her arms tightly. “So he’s not stalking you?”
“Why would he do that? We hadn’t spoken in years.” I wave the topic away. We’re getting too far off track. “He’s grown a lot, okay? And so have I. And I didn’t tell you about this before because I knew you would freak out.”
“So you thought the better option was to surprise us with him?”
I press my lips together, no longer believing I picked the right option. I thought my family would only take a minute or two to see the light, but Jemma still looks like she wants to kill Oliver.
Jemma sighs. “People don’t change, Devin.”
I stiffen. “People who believe that never change.”
We stare at each other, a standoff that stretches on. From across the lobby, I can hear Henry laughing at something, the sound jarring against the tension crackling between us. I don’t have time for it. I dragged Oliver here, and I need to stay at his side, not throw him to the wolves.
“I know you don’t like him.” I soften my tone. “Can you just promise me that you’ll at least try to get to know him?”
“The new Oliver?” There’s no mockery there. Only a quiet resignation.
“Yes.” I gently grasp her arms. “Please.”
She nods. “For you.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
We rejoin the others, where it seems nothing has changed. Oliver still looks like he wants to crawl out of his skin, while my mom is glowering. At least Henry and my dad are still being social, even if they’re hiding their true feelings—which I suspect they are.
“Oliver told us he’s learning how to cook!” Henry beams.
“I’m doing my best.” Oliver shrugs a shoulder and looks me over. Are you okay?
I give him a quick smile and a nod of my head. I’ll be all right. I’m more concerned about him. Maybe it was unfair to even ask him to come here in the first place.
“He’s going to cook us all dinner tonight,” my dad says.
“It seemed like a good idea, since our suite has a kitchen.” Oliver musters up a smile. “What do you think?” He asks me.
“That’s great.” I sound way too thrilled, like I’m trying to get a group of kindergartners to be excited about math.
Henry checks his watch. “We should probably go shopping for the ingredients now. It’s getting late.”
