“Ivy.” Stepping forward, he tugs me into his arms. Once they’re secured around me, he whispers, “It’s so good to finally see you.” Then he’s pulling back, taking a good long look at me. “And you’re even more beautiful than before!”
Roan steps forward, thrusting his hand out for my dad to shake. “It’s really nice to meet you, Mr. Kaster.”
“You too. Thanks again for driving Ivy home today.” His gaze bounces between us as if he’s trying to figure out exactly what we are to one another. A speculative gleam enters his eye like he’s getting ridiculous ideas about the state of our relationship which I’ll have to correct at a later date.
Then we’re being ushered inside the house. For just a moment, my eyes fly around the living room. It’s like stepping back in time because almost nothing has changed since I left. Some of the pictures hanging on wall are different, but that’s about it.
“Sit down, make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to eat or drink?”
Now that we’ve greeted one another, awkwardness descends fairly quickly. “We’ll just have some water, dad.” I feel like a guest in this house. It sucks. “Thanks.”
“Nothing to eat? How about some chips or a sandwich? I know it was a long drive.”
Both of us shake our heads. “Nope, water is fine.”
Nodding, he disappears into the kitchen. Feeling restless and ill at ease, I quickly stand, moving towards the fireplace. Just above it hangs a huge sixteen by twenty inch framed family portrait.
Except that I’m not in it which makes perfect sense because I don’t really feel like I’m part of this family. Roan says nothing as he silently moves to stand at my side. When I only continue staring at the picture, his hand gently slips into mine. His fingers tightening around mine has something inexplicably easing within me. For some reason my chest doesn’t feel nearly as constricted as it did only moments ago.
My eyes study the little girl and boy grinning back from the photograph. I’m guessing since the twins look so much older than when I last saw them this must be a recent picture. Almost begrudgingly I admit they’re adorable. Nora has long caramel colored hair which she must have inherited from my father because it looks to be the same exact shade of golden brown as mine. And Nolan has bright blond hair like Leah.
“She looks like you,” he comments softly.
Almost dispassionately, I study the picture for another long moment. “A little bit,” I finally concede.
Nora’s facial features are a mix of Leah and my dad. My eyes are similar to my dad’s but my lips and cheekbones are all my mother’s. She also had a long lean body like I do. She wasn’t a dancer but she could have been one. She was tall. Around five eight or so, just like me.
Without another word, I turn away, dismissing the picture just as my dad comes back with two bottles of water. His eyes flit behind us to the professionally taken photograph.
Handing us our waters, he says, “We had that done last spring,”
Once again I turn to stare at it feeling a little more removed from the situation. From them. He may be my dad, but he started another family and it’s obvious there isn’t a whole lot of room in it for me.
“It’s a nice photo.” Needing something to occupy my fingers, I twist off the cap and take a long swig from it. We’ve only just arrived and this afternoon already feels as if it will never end. I’m a fidgety nervous mess. I just want to get the hell out of here.
“We’d like to get another one taken next spring with all five of us.” He says the words softly as if he can tell my feelings are hurt even though I haven’t done or said anything to give him that impression.
Instead of responding, I ask the dreaded question. “So where are Leah and the kids?”
“Oh, they had to run a few errands. They’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”
“Okay.” Once again, I head back to the couch. Roan sits right next to me as my father takes a seat in the armchair across from us.
Awkward tension starts to swirl through the air when my father suddenly asks, “So how do you two know each other?”
I glance at Roan out of the corner of my eye only to find him staring back at me. There’s a small smile tipping his lips upward and I’m suddenly reminded of dumping my iced coffee down the front of him. I almost shake my head because I absolutely do not want to share that story with my dad.
He arches a brow as if silently encouraging me to take the lead on this one. Clearing my throat, my eyes shift back to my dad where I force them to stay. “We have a business ethics class together and we’ve been partnered up for a project.”