“So,” I ask, “you’d have let Andi wear it?”
Andi is his daughter. Or rather, was. Connor didn’t use to talk about his kids, but lately he’ll bring up some little thing he remembers or mention an anniversary or birthday. Andi would have graduated college this year, if she existed in this timeline. His youngest, Christopher, is gone as well, just like Connor will be if he’s ever caught outside of a CHRONOS field.
Connor nods, but his smile turns a little sad. “Yes, I would’ve let Andi wear it. But I’d also have been at the door to make sure that her date remembered she was still my little girl. And on that note, I’m going to go give Harry a heads-up that he needs to get ready to answer the door.”
Dad’s overbearing-father act needs serious work. It doesn’t help that he’s a good four inches shorter than Trey, but the biggest issue is that it’s just not his personality type. He does manage one lame, half-joking comment about getting me home by midnight, but it’s clear from Connor’s expression, as he watches from inside the kitchen doorway, that he is totally unimpressed with Dad’s performance. I’m pretty sure lessons on how to intimidate your daughter’s boyfriend will commence as soon as we’re out of earshot.
Trey’s car is parked out front, half-hidden by the hedge that wraps around the front and sides of Katherine’s yard. Once we’re past the line of parental sight, he turns toward me and takes my hand, pulling me in closer. He’s looking incredibly handsome in navy pants and the same blue shirt he wore when we had breakfast at his house on my birthday, just before our misadventure at the Cyrist temple.
Even if I were the type to fault him for a first-date wardrobe repeat, which I’m most definitely not, I can’t hold Trey accountable for what he can’t remember. I’m much more interested in the other thing that’s the same—the very familiar light in his eyes when I smile up at him.
“Listen,” he says, “I know your Dad and Connor might prefer that the kiss come at the end of the evening, when I’ve returned you safely to your doorstep, but it has been ten entire days. And you look—whoa.” He shakes his head and gives me that grin, the one that just melts me, and then follows up with a long, lingering kiss.
“I missed you,” he says into my hair when we come up for air.
I lean into his chest, breathing him in. “I missed you, too.”
After a moment, Trey reaches over to open the car door for me. Once I’m in, he crouches down and runs his forefinger along the underside of my bottom lip. “Now I see why tradition holds that the kiss comes at the end of the date. How much lipstick am I wearing?”
I laugh and rub his lips with my fingertip, which removes the gloss but not the color. “Hmm,” I say as he gets behind the wheel. “Maybe we should find you a Kleenex or something before you meet the rest of Briar Hill?” I open the glove compartment, and there’s a small stack of fast-food napkins—I’m pretty sure they’re the same ones that Trey gave me in the other timeline, when I was in tears after my meeting with Other-Dad.
I hand him the napkins, and he scrubs his mouth, but it’s still a little pink.
He flips the mirror back up and smiles as he starts the engine. “Oh, well. I guess I could just kiss you again when we walk in the door so that they have no questions about where the lipstick came from. Or who you’re with.”
Connor’s turf comment echoes briefly in my mind, and I shake my head, laughing. “That would make an interesting first impression. So . . . where is this place?”
“Just off of Falls Road.” He nods toward the holder on the dash, where his phone is displaying a GPS app. I zoom in close to the destination and see huge blocks of green.
“Good thing we didn’t opt for casual dress,” I say. “We’re definitely headed into Estate Territory.”
“Yeah, I noticed. I hate this type of thing,” he says as he merges onto Rockville Pike. “It’s always a game of one-upmanship—who has the fastest car, the biggest house, the most obscure and expensive artwork. There will be at least one truly awful sculpture or painting in an alcove that’s carefully lit to ensure you simply can’t miss it. I think it is written into the contract when you buy a house with more than eight thousand square feet.”
I don’t say anything, mostly because I have zero experience on that front. Katherine’s house is easily the largest I’ve been in, but she decorates with books and Connor’s odd contraptions, designed to boost the CHRONOS field. Trey’s house is probably the second largest, but it felt like a home, not a museum.
“I’m sorry,” he says, squeezing my hand. “I don’t mean to be negative. It’s just that I saw so much of this at the school in Peru. I’d finally managed to find a group of friends who were laid-back, but then we moved. I only agreed to finish up at Briar Hill because Dad said it wasn’t as snooty. But now with this Carrington Day merger, I’m beginning to wonder.”
“Yeah. But at least they aren’t switching our classes up. I mean, the schedule I have is the one I signed up for last year.”
We spend a few minutes comparing our schedules and are happy to discover we have two classes and lunch at the same time. It might actually be three classes, because Trey can’t remember whether he has calculus second period or fourth.
He turns onto Falls Road, and after a mile or so, the houses begin to drift farther apart, separated by wooded areas. Oversized homes are pretty standard in the DC area, but the ones in this neighborhood flaunt the true indicator of wealth—actual land surrounding the house. These aren’t your typical McMansions, squeezed onto a lot the size of a postage stamp, but sprawling residences with multilevel decks, at least one pool, and a tennis court.
We turn onto a smaller side road and drive past an iron-fenced estate, with an enormous brick house in the distance and a pond closer to the road, where two horses have stopped for a drink. The scene is very picturesque but also a bit intimidating.
Trey follows my gaze and, apparently, my thoughts as well. “Unless you have objections,” he says, “I’ll locate Dr. Tilson, tell him Dad’s sorry he couldn’t attend, and then we’ll find an excuse to clear out.”
“Yes, please.” I’m not a fan of parties in the first place, and if Trey is worried about feeling out of his element, I’m going to be a fish totally out of water. “Maybe you could just say we have to attend this soiree to christen your dad’s new yacht and they’ll let us take our burger to go?”
He laughs. “Hey, this might actually be fun, if we make a game out of it. Now we need to come up with a pretentious hobby for you—maybe dressage?”
“You’ve apparently forgotten that you’re arriving with the math teacher’s daughter. At least a few people will remember I lived in one of those tiny little cottages on campus, and believe me, there’s no place to hide a dancing horse.”
“Okay, no dressage. We’ll use your real hobby. I doubt any of them have a time machine.”
“Probably not. Unfortunately, I can’t bring that shiny toy out for show-and-tell.”
He’s about to suggest something else when we see the marker ahead for 10804 Lochmere. The drive is gated, of course, but the gate is open, and a bouquet of helium balloons is tied to each post. The lane winds through the buffer of overhanging trees and ivy hiding the house from the road and then opens to a carefully manicured lawn surrounding a massive white colonial that looks as though it could easily house half the student body of Briar Hill. A dozen or so cars line the sides of the drive. I’m beginning to wish I’d worn my ballet flats rather than these heeled sandals, since it looks like we’re going to have a bit of a hike and the ground is still squishy from the morning rain.
But Trey doesn’t pull in behind the last car as I’d expected. Instead, he continues toward the drive that curves around the ornate fountain in front of the entranceway. Two men stand at attention beside the middle columns, their dark blue uniforms a vivid contrast against the pristine white of the house. Trey brings the car to a halt, and the attendant on the right steps forward to open my door as the other moves around the front of the vehicle to take the keys.