His Whole Family Was in on Our Fake Relationship, Except Him novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: The Porch Kiss

Roz kisses Isak in front of his ex, and at 3 a.m. she watches him cross out Rule 2 and write it again.

Whitney Westfall walked the length of the table with her hand out and a smile ready.

"Isak," she said. "I hoped this wouldn't be awkward."

The whole table had stopped talking.

Her parents were hugging Solveig at the far end, and even Leif had gone quiet, with a roll halfway to his mouth.

Isak stood up.

He held my hand the whole time, so I stood up too.

"Whitney," he said. "It's good to see you."

His voice was perfectly level and about two degrees too warm.

"This is my fiance," she said, and the man in the navy blazer nodded. "We're engaged. It's very new."

"Congratulations," Isak said.

"Thank you." Whitney's eyes moved to me, and to the ink on my forearms, and to my leather jacket over the chair. "And you're?"

"Roz," I said.

I took her hand and shook it once, firmly.

"I'm his girlfriend."

"Oh!" Whitney said, and I watched the word land in her face.

It wasn't happiness.

It was something smaller, with a hook in it.

"I'm so glad," she said, turning to Isak. "I've worried about you being alone. I really have."

Isak's hand tightened until my fingers hurt.

He didn't say anything.

He just stood there in his gray cardigan, with his jaw working, a man being pitied in front of a hundred relatives.

Nobody had ever told me what to do about that, and no rule on a typed page covered it.

So I stepped in front of him, put one hand on his cheek, and kissed him.

I meant it to be quick.

His mouth was warm and startled, and for one second he didn't move at all.

Then his free hand came up and slid into the back of my hair.

He kissed me back.

It was slow, and a little clumsy, and my knees went soft in a way I hadn't planned on.

When I pulled away, his glasses were crooked.

"That's very sweet of you to worry," I said to Whitney, still looking at him. "He's doing fine."

Somebody down the table started clapping.

I believe it was Leif.

Solveig said, loudly, "Dinner! Let's all sit!"

Whitney's fiancé steered her to the other end of the table.

Isak sat down.

He didn't look at me until the salad.

Then he leaned in and said, very low, "That was within Rule One."

"It was in front of people."

"It was extremely in front of people."

"Did it help?"

He stared at his plate.

"Yes," he said. "It helped."

After dinner, we walked back to the cabin in the dark with our hands joined, because the whole family was watching us from the porch.

Once the door closed, he let go.

He stood in the middle of the room and took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"I owe you an apology."

"For what?"

"For letting you walk into that."

"I walked in," I said. "I picked the door."

He sat on the edge of the bed, then seemed to remember that was my side, and moved to the chair.

"She left thirteen months ago," he said. "Three weeks before the wedding."

He stared at the floor.

"She came to my apartment on a Tuesday, put the ring on the counter and said, 'I can't.'"

"That's all she said?"

"That's all."

He turned the glasses over in his fingers.

"I canceled the venue myself, and I called a hundred and forty guests."

He shrugged.

"My mother offered to make the calls, and I said I wanted to."

"Why did you want to?"

"So I'd know it was done."

I sat on the other end of the bed.

I wanted to put a hand on his shoulder.

Rule One said not unless people could see, and nobody could.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"You don't need to be."

"I'm sorry anyway."

He nodded, and put his glasses back on.

"That kiss was good," he said, to the woodstove. "I'm only saying it was good work."

"Thank you," I said. "I'm very professional."

He laughed, once, short and surprised.

It was a rusty sound.

I lay awake for a long time after that.

Around three in the morning I heard the cabin door open as quietly as a person can open it.

I rolled over.

He wasn't on the floor.

Through the front window, I could see him sitting on the porch step in a coat.

The yellow light shone on the folder across his knees.

He had the black pen.

He turned to the sheet and drew a neat line through Rule 2, No real feelings, in either direction.

He looked at it for a long time.

Then he wrote it again underneath, pressing so hard the pen tore the paper.

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