Page 57 of Without a Hitch
“What’s going on with dating, Nova?”
“Oh, for crying out loud. Nothing, brother bear. I just haven’t found my Abby yet.”
My scoff, sounding like a mixture of a cough and a belch, surprises us both. Nova giggles, but I force my scowl to stay in place. While she laughs, I pull down my vest, making sure the buttons are perfectly aligned with the zipper on my trousers.
“I’ve met Abby twice. That’s it. I’m intrigued by her, sure. But fundamentally, we want very different things.”
“She wants the fairy tale.” My father doesn’t miss a beat of this conversation as he takes a seat on the small sofa in the corner.
“Don’t they all?” I growl, unable to keep my ruffled feathers straight under this sudden interrogation by my entire family.
Nova stares out the window to my right, and sweat forms on my spine as the silence becomes uncomfortable.
“You know,” she finally says without making eye contact, “life is full of shitty things, Loch. Without something to look forward to and strive for, wouldn’t we all live a bleak, depressing existence? Yeah, I think we’re all, in some way, searching for our happy. It’s human nature, but happiness looks different for everyone.” She lowers her eyes, and I feel her words like a punch to the throat. “Not everyone is like Christine.”
Fucking Christine. My ex-wife.
“This has nothing to do with her,” I mutter, but it lacks the vitriol I usually save for conversations about Christine. “The thing with Abby is just different.” I toss my pen onto my desk and drop back in my chair to stare at the ceiling. “Abby is the first woman to interest me in a…different way in a very long time.” Even with Christine, the relationship was mostly physical. That’s what got me into trouble, if I’m being honest.
“More than sex, you mean.”
“Yes, Mother. Can we not talk about sex though? I’ve already told you that’s too close, even for us.”
“You need to grow up.” Nova laughs.
“It doesn’t matter, Nova. Abby told me she’s been searching for the fairy tale her entire life. For her, that means a wedding, forever.”
My family exchanges a look I choose to ignore. They know where I stand on love and marriage.
“Our hopes and dreams change, Lochlan,” my father says. “They grow and expand. They readjust as our circumstances change. Get to know her. Let her know you. Really know you, and then reevaluate. You never know. She could end up driving you insane, or one of you, if not both, could decide that your future isn’t the ideals you’ve set in stone.”
He chooses now to have a point.
I can feel my eyebrows forming a V between my eyes, and I reach up to smooth it out. It also offers shelter from their determined gazes. I keep my eyes closed, but there’s no blocking the excitement in their voices as they discuss my impending and sudden trip to Boston.
As Nova fills in our parents, my mind wanders. I do like to date monogamously. I like being in a relationship when there are no ulterior motives. Or at least, I used to. A relationship is a luxury I haven’t allowed myself since Christine so publicly humiliated me. But Abby isn’t Christine. Abby, by all accounts, doesn’t even know who I am. As far as I know, she just assumes I’m a rich bastard she met at a wedding. Not the heir to a massive hotel chain. And Abby is who I need to get this deal done with Ross. So, why shouldn’t we get to know each other?
My reasons for keeping my distance from her are quickly deteriorating. My willpower for this girl is nonexistent as it is, and with the threat of not landing this deal? Winning her over is the only solution. One I’m more than eager to embark on.
“It’s settled then,” my father announces happily. “Lochlan is going to get his girl.”
“What?” I demand, snapping out of my daydream.
“And we’ll all help,” he continues.
“No. No way.” I glance around, and all thought leaves my head. “What in God’s name are you wearing?”
My father stands proudly and twirls in a circle. The smile on his face is happier than my multicolored candy. “They’re coming back in style, my boy! Parachute pants. Aren’t they fun?”
“Parachute pants, circa MC Hammer?” Not only are they MC Hammer pants, but their abstract print gives me a headache.
“They match your Skittles.” Nova laughs under her breath.
“Dad, those are not back in style.”
“Yes, they are!” he says indignantly. “Nono, tell him! Tell him they’re on the runways in Paris.”
My mother gasps. “Oh my God! Are they?”
