When Liz asked me to attend her sister’s birthday party with her, I hid my trepidation and gave her a yes without hesitation. I wanted to give the relationship a real chance, rather than limit it with my insecurities. But I’d be a complete liar if I said I haven’t been sick-to-my-stomach stressed-out, thinking about it over the last couple weeks.

Things with Liz and I have been absolutely awesome. She works a ton of hours at the hospital and I’ve been busy planning the tour, but we’ve been able to meet up for dinner and drinks and sleepovers. I love spending time with her. Every time we hang out, she surprises me with something quirky and nerdy—like her knowledge of music. I didn’t expect her to introduce me to new artists, but I’ve created a huge playlist of bands that weren’t even on my radar.

There’s nothing pretentious about Liz as a human being. She’s down-to-earth and silly. Smart, without being awkward or a know-it-all. She’s kind to everyone she comes in contact with. And she has fifty million things going on, yet handles it with ease.

We’ve kept our relationship fairly low-key, getting to know each other before bringing other people into our bubble. Today will be the first time I meet her family and friends. I don’t want the Commons’ lifestyle; I don’t care what they think about me—but it doesn’t mean that I’m not sweating bullets as my cab gets closer and closer to the house. I know what everyone at this party will think of me before I even step on the property.

Eastover. Of course, the Commons live in Eastover, Charlotte’s wealthiest neighborhood. And I’m talking old money—not new money. The people here aren’t keeping up with the Joneses—they are the Joneses—the families who have run Charlotte for generations. They set the tone for all the wannabes living off credit cards.

A tightness builds in my chest, knowing I’ll be on defense all night. I glance down at the artwork covering every inch of my arms. I don’t regret a single piece—in theory. There are a few drunken designs I’ll get covered someday, but in general, I love my ink and never think about a life without it. As widely accepted as tattoos are today—they aren’t accepted by the wealthy, Southern boys’ club. And that’s the firing squad I’m throwing myself in front of today.

The car pulls up in front of a sprawling home with an immaculate yard. I don’t know anything about architecture styles, but with the white-brick, multiple two-story columns, and a third-level wrought-iron balcony, it looks like someone picked it out of New Orleans’s French Quarter and dropped it on a street in Charlotte.

“You want me to drive you up?” the driver asks, eyeing the two driveways. They’re not necessarily circular, more U-shaped. I can tell that you go up one side to get to the house and down the other side to leave, but I don’t want him to have to navigate the pristine Beemers and Benzes parked along the route.

“No, thanks. I’ll walk,” I say and slide out of the car.

As I trek up the driveway that seems to go on for miles, I envision playing a show on the balcony. How fucking awesome would it be to fill the front lawn with friends and family, maybe do some giveaways for our fans to be there?

When I reach the door, I press the doorbell and wait. Within a few seconds, an older woman in an immaculate cream-colored dress opens the door, greeting me with a radiant smile. That smile falters slightly as she examines me. “Can I help you?”

The similarities in her facial features tell me that this woman is Liz’s mom, which throws me off my game. I wasn’t expecting the lady of the house to answer the door. I thought they’d have a maid or something.

“Yeah, hi! I’m here for Maddie’s party. Liz invited me.”

The woman’s smile falters a bit, yet she keeps it together as she speaks. “She invited you?”

“Yeah. Yes,” I correct myself, feeling like the lead character in that Sandra Bullock movie Mom made me watch with her a million times. The one where she’s trying to become a proper lady for the Miss United States contest. “As her guest. We’re”—I pause—“dating.”

I’m not sure if that was the right thing to say because I don’t know what—or if—Liz told her family about us. I can’t imagine she was going to introduce me as a friend. A girl like her doesn’t bring a friend like me to one of these parties.

Her eyes widen, yet that smile stays plastered. “Of course. Austin, right?” She takes a step back. “Please come in. I’ll grab Elizabeth.”

“Thank you.” I step into the largest home I’ve ever entered in my life. The foyer alone is bigger than the entire living room at Mom’s house. The collared shirt I borrowed from Nelson, which was already too tight because our frames are so different, now feels suffocating.

As my eyes dart from the spotless, white marble floors, under my feet, to the obscenely ornate glass chandelier, hanging above my head, my shoulders start to tighten. There aren’t many situations where I feel uncomfortable, not because I’m some guru of awesomeness, but mainly because I try not to put myself in situations where I’d feel that way.

I definitely feel awkward here and I haven’t even reached the party yet.

Finally, after what seems like hours, Liz appears radiant and delicious in a flowing, sleeveless sundress made of taupe gauze-like fabric. It hugs the upper half of her body, creating a deep V on her chest before wrapping around her tiny waist. The long skirt has a huge slit that shows off her gorgeous tanned legs with each step she takes toward me. My dick presses against my shorts.

How the fuck did I get this lucky?

“I’m so glad you’re here!”

She falls into my arms and presses her mouth on mine. Her lips part immediately, allowing our tongues to tangle softly. I’ll never get tired of being greeted like that.

When I let go, Liz backs up a bit. “You look absolutely stunning,” I say.

Her cheeks flush which makes my heart soar, but then she casts her gaze to the floor, and a pang of sadness hits. It’s unfortunate that my compliments make her feel awkward. She’s beautiful, intelligent, and has the heart of a saint. How could her previous boyfriends not make her feel like a goddess every day? How could they say they loved her or wanted to be with her without ever truly appreciating her?

“Thank you.”

“I thought it was a pool party,” I say tentatively. I’m not trying to make her feel bad, but she’s standing before me in a gorgeous dress and I’m in black board shorts and a black-and-white-striped, collared shirt.

“Are you wearing—” She scans my outfit. “You look great. I didn’t even realize those were swim trunks.”

Her approval puts me at ease. “Cool.”

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you here. I’ve known most of these people for years, yet I’m on edge around them. When Mama said you were here, a sense of calmness came over me. Thank you.”

“I’m here for you, babe. I like being your calm. I appreciate that you trust me enough to let me be that for you.”

“Ready?” she asks, squeezing my hand.

“Let’s do this.” I create a half circle with my arm and she loops hers through.

Liz guides me through the magnificent house, to the back door, which leads to a humongous, meticulously landscaped yard, complete with a massive in-ground pool. This yard could be a city park.

When Liz and I walk out together, arm-in-arm, every head turns. Don’t get me wrong, I knew that would happen, because people always look when a new person enters a party. And it’s hosted by the Commons, so it makes total sense that partygoers would turn to see who Liz enters with.

I also knew that there would be staring—and not in the good way like when people stare at me while I’m on stage. I honestly don’t expect one fucking person here to recognize me from my band. They just know that I am an extremely tatted-up dude who doesn’t seem to belong.

There’s staring, then there are side-mouthed conversations while keeping their gazes on Liz and I. Maybe I’m overreacting, letting social anxiety get the best of me. I’m projecting my own insecurity onto them and I need to stop.

“Do you mind if we hit up Maddie first?” I say in Liz’s ear. “I want to say Happy Birthday before this party gets crazy.”

Liz laughs. “Of course!”

We cross the yard until we’re standing near the pool in a group gathered around Maddie. All eyes are on the birthday girl as she tells a story, confirming the things Liz has already told me about her sister—the life of the party—the socialite. She’s very comfortable in the spotlight.

“Austin! I’m so glad you made it!” Maddie stops her story to give me a hug. I wasn’t expecting that kind of greeting since I’ve never met her before. I honestly didn’t know what she thought about me. Maybe this party won’t be as bad as I thought.

“Absolutely. Happy Birthday!” I say when she releases me.

“Who’s this?” says a guy in a seersucker suit. No joke. That super-douchey light blue-and-white pinstripe pattern that only rich bros think is cool. I often wonder if guys who wear it do it as a joke—like, they know how lame it is, and that’s why they do it. Nope.

“This is Austin! He’s from that band Emily took us to see a few weeks back. Remember I told you about him?”

I hold my hand out to shake his, but he just stares at it. In my circle of friends, I’d be flattered at how hard he’s studying the ink artwork that covers it, but this dude is inspecting it like I rubbed my palm with rat crap before extending it to him.

Instead of giving him another second of my time, I drop my hand and turn back to Maddie. “This is a beautiful party. Thanks so much for having me.”

Maddie ignores her rude male friend and addresses me again. “Liz said that you’re playing the Atlanta Music Fest. That’s so exciting, Austin!”

Knowing that my girl has been talking to her family about me fills my heart with pride. Knowing that she’s been telling her family about me shows me that she really is all in for our relationship. “Yeah, it’s our first big festival. We’re super-stoked about it.”

“Austin’s band has that song Open Your Heart on the radio. I know some of you guys have heard it.”

“Two songs on the radio,” Liz chimes in, glancing at me with a proud smile.

I appreciate her building me up, but insecurity nags at me. They’ve brought up all of my major musical accomplishments within the first minute just to get the people in this group interested in me. It feels icky, like when I’m talking to the suits from a record label.

Almost as if they have to prove that I deserve to be here. Just existing as a human being doesn’t cut it for this party.

“We’re very grateful for our recent success. The satellite-radio listeners rally hard core for us.” Sweat rolls down my back, which makes me realize I’m not as at ease as I thought I was. I survey the yard, looking for the closest exit or safe spot. Oh look! There’s a bar near the door out.

“Any money to be made in music, Austin? All I hear is how hard it is to make a living doing that. There’s quite a few ‘starving’ artists in the industry, right?” seersucker suit asks. I still don’t know his name, nor do I care.

“I guess it’s like any industry—if you’re good at it, work your ass off, and have a business plan, you can make it work.”

“A business plan? You have a business plan?” he asks.

Fuck me for adding that part about a business plan just to get this douchebag to realize that I’m not stupid, despite my lack of a diploma from some overpriced university. I don’t owe him any kind of explanation.

And fuck me twice for sweating while answering his question. Why do I let him get to me?

“Anyone in business for themselves should have some sort of plan, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I do. I’d be interested to hear what you found from your competitive analysis and what kind of marketing strategies you derived to distinguish yourself from your competitors in the industry. Knowing that is important for success, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Austin!” A familiar voice calls from behind me. Emily runs up and grabs my hand, pulling me away from the group—and Liz.

“Why do you have to be so rude, Trent?” Maddie says. “You’re going to ruin my party treating guests like that.”

“Don’t you dare try to blame me, Madeline. You’re the one who allowed someone like him to attend your precious party. If it’s ruined, it’s your fault,” Seersucker Suit says in a sharp tone, loud enough for all to hear.

Wow. Way to embarrass the woman of the hour.

“How’s your fellowship going, Liz?” I hear another person in the group ask as Emily whisks me farther away.

“I saved you!” Emily says once we’re away from the group.

“I could’ve held my own, Em. I actually do have a business plan—and I understand it, too.” Technically, I do have a business plan, thanks to the business class I was on my way to the night I found Liz in the accident. I’m not saying I follow the plan to a tee, but we have one.

“No, you couldn’t,” she says and quickly follows up with, “and I don’t mean that as an insult to you. Even if you answered with something intelligent, Trent would keep coming at you until he slammed you. That’s what he does when he feels challenged by someone he doesn’t feel is on his level.”

“I wasn’t challenging—” I begin to protest.

“You know that. I know that. But we’re talking about the poster child for white privilege. He wants to embarrass you to put you in your place,” she says, using air quotes. “It’s not all of them, believe me. Trent is just a special breed of douche.”

I glance back at the group, where Liz listens and nods with a polite smile plastered on her lips. “Is Maddie dating him?”

“Unfortunately. And he treats everyone like that. He’ll even challenge Daddy.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah. I don’t know how Maddie even puts up with him. He treats her like crap, too.”

Conversations with Emily are as different as night and day than those with Liz. Em’s mouth runs a mile a minute with zero filter.

“So what’s the lure? Why stay with him? She seems like she has a bright personality.”

“His father is the owner of Anderson Architecture, the company that designs all of Daddy’s stores. It’s an exclusive contract.”

“Ahhhh! The exclusive contract,” I joke. I guess that’s a wealthy businessman’s version of pissing on something to mark their territory.

“Come on, let’s go get drinks. It’ll make this party bearable.”

A drink is exactly what I need to loosen up a bit. I follow Emily toward a bar set up near the entrance to the house.

“Two Jack and Cokes, please,” she orders for us. “Oh, and Maria, can you put them in pint glasses, please?”

The bartender nods and grabs two glasses from under the bar. “Of course, Miss Emily.”

“Did Hugo ever call to schedule his appointment? I’m stoked to do that portrait piece on him.”

“He did,” Maria says as she pours whiskey into one glass. “But he said you have a long wait list.”

“Oh shit! Yeah, I do. I’ll tell Syd to put him on my list of people who get called when a spot opens in my schedule—like if someone cancels or I decide to come in on a day off.”

“Thank you so much. He’s gonna love to hear that. The loss has hit him hard.”

“I know.” Emily reaches over the bar and places her hand over Maria’s. “I’ve been thinking about both of you.”

Maria finishes the drinks and hooks a lime to each rim.

“Hugo is Maria’s husband,” Emily explains as we walk away from the bar. “His mom passed away a few weeks ago after a long battle with breast cancer. He’s devastated.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna do a portrait for him at like, one quarter of what I’d normally charge for a piece like that. They don’t have the money, and I know it would help him so much in his healing.”

“That’s awesome, Em.”

“Life is about being good to others, right? Not money.”

I raise my glass to clink with hers. “Cheers to that.”

It’s ironic because we’re standing in a massive backyard, drinking freely from an open bar, at a party put on to impress wealthy people.

“Though, I gotta admit, having money can help,” Emily continues. “Hugo and Maria have been part of our family for years. She’s part of the housekeeping team and he works with our landscaper, Erik. When Hugo’s mom got sick, she didn’t have insurance and they couldn’t afford her treatments. Liz jumped into action. She found them an oncologist, started a non-profit, put together a silent auction fundraiser. I still can’t believe she did all that with everything she had going on at the hospital. But that’s Liz.”

Nothing about that story surprises me. Liz is an overachiever with a heart of gold—and she never would have told me she did all that unless it came up somehow.

As I sip my drink, I glance over at Liz. She’s moved to a different circle, this one filled with people in a much older age range than the other group. Her mother stands next to her, confident and regal. They look so much alike.

Something churns in the pit of my stomach. Is this Liz’s future? Pool parties where no one swims and douchebags who actively try to put down everyone they speak with? Plastic smiles to pretend she cares about what the person she’s speaking to has to say? Faking who she really is and what she wants out of life because her peers won’t understand a person who wants to help others who can’t afford quality care rather than be the premier surgeon in Charlotte?

Is this my future if we stay together? Heads turning because my body is covered in tattoos rather than seersucker suits? Liz ticking off my accomplishments to prove my career has value to people I don’t give a fuck about impressing? Sneaking off with Emily because having her as an ally makes being around these people tolerable?

The first pint of Jack and Coke goes down way too easily as I think about what a super-shitty boyfriend I’m being right now. I’m being just as judgmental as these people are.

“I’m surprised you’re here,” I say to Emily.

“Oh, I’m not staying long! I’m just making an appearance to down enough free drinks to piss off my parents. But it’s Maddie’s twenty-fifth and she made me feel guilty when I said I wasn’t going to come.”

“Are you two close?”

Emily snorts, which causes heads to turn our way. She raises her glass and curtsies. “No.”

It’s funny, because Emily and Maddie are very similar personality-wise. Emily is just the tatted goth version. But I have a feeling she’d think that assessment was an insult, so I keep my mouth shut.

“The dynamic has changed over the years.” She pauses when a waiter appears next to us with two brand new pints of Jack and Coke. I set my empty glass on the tray and take the new drink. Looks like Maria has Emily completely hooked up. “Maddie and Liz are two years apart, so they used to be closer. They’ve grown apart recently, and Liz and I have gotten closer. I blame you for that.”

“You’re welcome,” I say.

Emily pulls her long mane of silver hair over one shoulder. “It’s nice to have a relationship with her. Liz has been out in medical-land for so long. She hasn’t had much time for any of us. I get it, believe me.”

“She works her ass off.”

“Absolutely, but it was also her way of getting away from all this shit, ya know? I know she hates it. I can tell.” She gestures around the yard, without a care in the world of who sees her. “I left the family with a bang. She left with a whisper.”

She’s paraphrasing The Hollow Men, one of my favorite poems by T.S. Eliot, and I’m glad she changed the word “whimper’ to whisper, because Liz does not whimper. My girl is rock solid.

“So this isn’t her thing?” I ask, looking at her over the rim of my glass.

“She can play the part. I bet it’s like you when you’re on stage. Is that your natural habitat? No, but you put on a realistic performance.”

I nod. The similarities hadn’t crossed my mind. Why is it so easy to see the things that will break people apart rather than the things that will bring us together?

“It just sucks because she’s gonna be around people like this all the time. That’s the field she chose. I hate to stereotype, because we both know not all people fit into any one mold, but damn, there are a lot of pretentious asses in her field. She just doesn’t fit in.”

“Hey!” Liz touches my arm.

“Hey!”

She looks between Emily and I as if watching a tennis game, even though we’re both still. “Can I grab you for a minute; I want to introduce you to my dad.”

My stomach tightens. Meeting Harris Commons is the absolute last thing I want to do tonight. I’d rather create a tattoo on my arm with cigarette burns.

“You’re gonna introduce Austin as your boyfriend here? At Maddie’s party?” Emily asks. “Don’t you think that’s a bit rude?”

Liz pulls her shoulders back. “Why would it be rude to introduce Austin here? I thought it would be rude to invite him and not introduce him at all.”

“Because this is Daddy’s favorite way to brag. Gathering his snobby friends, puffing up his chest as he moves about the grounds of his beautiful home, pretending to have a perfect life and family.”

I scoff at the last example. Perfect family, my ass. They’re one event away from a major blow up. What if my being here is that event? I don’t know if I can take that stress.

“So what? I still want Austin to meet him.”

“Austin, are you ready to be grilled?” She lowers her voice in an attempt to sound like her father. “What do you do? Oh, a musician? Looks like we have another creative. Not much money in a field like that, is there? You must have another job, yes? At The Usual Market, you say? Well, isn’t that blue-collar. What do your parents do? Oh, well. How did you and Elizabeth meet? Did you know that she graduated at the very top of her class at Columbia? You know Columbia, right? It’s one of the best medical schools in the country. Where did you go to university?”

“You can stop now,” Liz says through clenched teeth.

“Plus,” Emily continues. “Don’t you think Austin already feels out of place? You couldn’t give him the heads up as to how to dress for this?”

My hands fly to the hem of the borrowed polo. Liz said I looked fine.

“His outfit is completely acceptable,” Liz says quietly, glaring at her sister.

“Yeah, for a normal human’s pool party! Did you tell him that this is a garden party? And—even though we all hang out by the pool—no one actually swims?” Emily gestures toward the water where many are gathered around, but no one is actually in. No one here, except me, is wearing anything that would be deemed swimwear.

“Please stop,” I say, trying to quell the anger building up between the sisters. Liz’s bottom lip is quivering as if she’s about to lose her shit. And I know that’s not something she wants anyone to see. “Should I jump in and get this pool party rolling?”

“No!” Both girls cry in unison.

I had no intention of jumping in the pool. I just wanted to get the two sisters to stop arguing.

“Elizabeth! There you are.” Mrs. Commons stops next to Liz. “Dr. Crowder and his wife just arrived. Come say hello.”

Dr. Crowder’s name rings familiar as Liz’s mentor at the hospital. The fact that he was invited to Maddie’s birthday party seems a little odd, but then again, maybe the families are longtime friends. I have no clue.

Liz hesitates, but her mother won’t allow that. “Emily will be happy to keep Austin busy for a few more minutes, right?”

Her wording strikes a chord. When she says “a few more minutes” it seems like she’s noticed that Liz and I haven’t spent a lot of time together and that’s the way she wants to keep it.

Emily smiles sweetly. “Of course, Mama.”

“Cut it out,” Mrs. Commons says in a clipped voice. “You and I have a few things to discuss later.”

Emily rolls her eyes and lifts her drink to her lips. Without waiting for Liz to answer, Mrs. Commons whisks her away.

“Welcome to the family,” Emily quips without a smile.

I’m trying not to be the needy guy who gets pissed that Liz and I have barely spent any time together at the party she invited me to, but it gets even more difficult with each passing minute. Thankfully, I have Emily to talk to. This isn’t an environment where I feel comfortable enough to strike up a conversation with any random person. Though Emily mentioned that Trent was a special kind of douche, I’m fairly certain there are more guys like him, who get off on trying to make people feel badly about their lives.

I’m not ashamed in the least, but I also don’t feel like spending the entire evening on defense with people who will never understand my way of thinking. They don’t want to. They can only see things from their own perspective.

Emily and I spend the entire evening shooting the shit about people we know and catching up on things going on in our respective careers. I’m not the only one with exciting things happening. Emily is one of the most requested tattoo artists in Charlotte. Hell, people come in from all over to be tattooed by her. Which is pretty fucking amazing for as young as she is.

“This party is lame as fuck,” I tell Emily. “I was in NYC, partying with the guys from Scared Bunny on my twenty-fifth.”

“Oh, look at you, Mr. Big Stuff! Is the ickiness infiltrating your pores, making you feel the need to brag about who you know and where you’ve been?”

“Fuck off.”

“I was kidding!”

“I know, but there was some truth in it and I’m pissed at myself.”

“You need to cleanse your chakras.”

I don’t know what the hell she’s talking about. I’m not a very new-age, spiritual guy. “Will more Jack Daniels do that?”

“Dude! You can’t get sloppy drunk. My parents will hate you.”

Our eyes meet and we both bust out laughing. There is no doubt in either of our minds that her parents hate me already.

It’s never a good thing when I start keeping track of time based on how many drinks I’ve consumed rather than numbers on a clock. How long have you been here? I don’t know, about four Jack and Cokes?

“You’re so different than your family, Em. How the hell did you come from this?” I open my arms and spin around. Which is not the best decision for someone who’s downed four pint glasses of Jack Daniels and Coke.

“I don’t even know. We should get out of here. Wanna share a ride?”

“Yeah,” I answer without thinking. “Drinks at The Market?”

“I’m down,” she says. “Let me run in and get my bag.”

Emily and I weave through groups of people who stare at us with every step we take. I don’t see myself as that different, but I guess when people look at me, with almost every inch of visible skin from the neck down covered in tattoos, they get nervous. They see something they don’t understand, so they condemn it.

When I swing open one of the French doors to allow Emily to enter the house first, Liz is there.

“Hey!” she says with a smile. Her eyes dart between Emily and me, causing her smile to falter. “Are you leaving?” Her voice rings in my ears like a song. The song I wrote about two people who would never work out because they come from completely different backgrounds has never rung as true as it has tonight.

“Does it matter?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, were you going to tell me? Say goodbye?”

“I wasn’t sure where you were. You kinda ditched me.”

“Ditched you? We were in the middle of a conversation and then you ran off with Emily.”

“Remember the night we met, Liz? At my house when my friends were yelling things and being complete assholes? I didn’t leave you alone to chat with them because I didn’t want to put you in a situation that I knew would make you uncomfortable. You may think I have nerves of steel, but I don’t. I came here tonight because I was excited that you wanted me to meet your family and friends. I thought that I meant something to you.”

Liz’s eyes are wide, as if surprised. “That’s exactly why I invited you.” She reaches out to touch my arm, but I back away.

“And yet, you dropped me right into an uncomfortable situation. You and Maddie had to come out, guns blazing, right? Bragging about my accomplishments just so your friends thought I had worth. Am I not good enough without a few songs on the radio, Liz?”

“You know that’s not—”

Emily cuts Liz off. “Hey guys, let’s, uh, take this somewhere else.” Then she presses two palms into Liz’s back and shoves her inside the house.

I glance over my shoulder, realizing that we’ve created a commotion. Most heads are turned toward us, staring and whispering. Get it together, Austin. You’re embarrassing Liz.

When I look at my girl, her eyes are glassy, as if tears are seconds away from spilling over her cheeks. She’s wringing her hands in front of her. “Can we please go somewhere to talk?”

I nod, forgetting Emily is even there, and follow Liz as she leads me through the house and up a massive, ornate, winding staircase. Every step reminds me of how much I don’t belong here—and don’t want to belong here. Who the fuck needs a staircase like this? Who needs a house like this? The overly ornamental marble fireplace; gaudy mahogany everything; wrought-iron fixtures jutting out of the walls for no reason; gilded mirrors taller than my six-foot-three frame around every corner.

When we get to the top of the stairs, a painting of a woman and little girl catches my eye. There is no doubt the woman is Cookie Commons about twenty to twenty-five years younger. There’s only one girl in the picture in a household of three girls, so I can only conclude that it’s their firstborn.

“Is that—?” I point to the wall.

“Shut up.” Liz dismisses me without even looking at the artwork I’m pointing to. I close my mouth. There’s no need to point out that they have a custom oil painting of themselves on the wall of their home when we’re in the middle of a scuffle.

Liz opens the door to the right of the painting. As soon as she turns on the light I’m flooded by her—or what used to be her. The familiar smell of amber and vanilla, Liz’s signature scent, floods my senses and tells me she’s been wearing the same perfume or body lotion since high school. The thought makes me smile. It’s very much like her to find something she likes and stick with it, even as trends come and go. She’s not swayed by the masses.

Built-in shelves, bursting with books, span an entire wall. A plush, purple cushion lines the bench of a beautiful bay window. I imagine Liz sitting there, reading, studying, looking out at the stars, wondering when her life would be her own. The queen bed has an ornate fabric headboard, with bronze nailhead trim around the top, and is draped with a purple comforter.

The walk to her room has given me the time I needed to calm down. If Emily hadn’t interrupted us, I may have lashed out and said something I couldn’t take back. I’m usually an easygoing drunk, but I allowed the alcohol to intensify an already anxious situation for me. Then I ran my mouth and projected my insecurity onto Liz. Never a good combination.

Liz sits on the bed and looks up at me. “I’m sorry.”

“I am too,” I say, taking a seat next to her. “I didn’t mean to—I—” I grab my hair with both fists and take a deep breath. Just spit it out, tough guy. “I felt really insecure out there, Liz. And that’s not your fault, it’s mine, but—”

“It is my fault. I’m sorry I put you in that situation. I invited you because I’m proud of you—of us. I couldn’t wait to introduce you to my family and friends.” She lifts her eyes to mine, but drops them quickly. “But then we got here and I realized that this was not the right situation to bring you into. I should have introduced you to my parents alone, without others around. Not because I’m ashamed of you,” she explains quickly, “but because I should have known how uncomfortable it would be. I should have known that my parents would be taken off-guard when they saw you and would try to compensate that by being rude to you. I’d like to believe my friends would be kind, but sometimes I give them too much credit.”

“I get it.”

“And then I got jealous because you were hanging out with Emily all night.” She scratches a pull in the duvet, an imperfection I missed at first glance. When we look deeper into what we think is perfection, the flaws become visible, those unique imperfections that make us human.

“I wasn’t trying to make you jealous at all. I understood that there were people you needed to talk to and at first it was cool because I had Emily there. But as the night went on, and I had more drinks, I admit, I got upset. I was like ‘Hey! I’ll just be over here waiting for you to make me part of your life.’”

“It was never my intention to make you feel that way. I’m sorry. I—maybe that’s why we’ll never work, Austin. We’re too different. You and Emily have so much more in common. She’s—”

I grab her hands and squeeze them in mine. “I don’t want to be with Emily. I want to be with you.”

“Why?”

“Why?” I chuckle. “Because you’re hot as fuck.”

She cocks her head and huffs. She doesn’t believe me. Which is absolutely tragic.

“We complement each other,” I continue. “We’re both career-driven, compassionate, introverted, dorks.”

My words bring a smile to Liz’s lips. “You’re the furthest thing from a dork.”

“You’re only saying that because you know me now. If you would’ve known teenage me, you’d totally agree.”

“I guess I see you as this wild, bold, extroverted personality.”

My head swivels right and left, looking for an imaginary bold, wild, extroverted person behind me. “Who? Me? Where the hell did you get that impression?”

“Every time I’m with you. You exude an easy confidence.” She reaches up and flattens my collar.

Was my collar popped out there? Please tell me my collar was not popped while I was around all those Chads.

I grab her hand and squeeze it. “One more reason I like being with you. You see me as the person I hope to be someday.”

“You already are that person.”

“Sometimes I think so and then I think about a night like tonight, where I didn’t feel confident at all. I let my insecurity get the best of me. Instead of being myself and proud of who I am, I ran away and hung out where it was comfortable.”

“I get it. I’ve been really lost recently.”

“I can tell.”

“Really?”

“Don’t get me wrong, babe. You’re still confident, I just sense that you’re low. Wanna talk about it?”

Liz closes her eyes, then she drops her head in her hands. “I—geez—I honestly don’t think I’ll ever be able operate again. I’m going to have to quit the surgical program and start over. And I can’t deal with it right now.”

Jesus. That was not what I expected to come out of her mouth.

I throw my arms around her, even though I’m completely taken aback. I knew Liz had been going to physical therapy to get her hand strong enough to operate after the accident, but I didn’t realize her injury was that bad. I didn’t realize she’s been dealing with the weight of losing her entire career.

“I’m sorry, babe. What can I do?” I say as I squeeze her harder, trying to transfer my energy to her.

“I haven’t told anyone, Austin. I’m scared. If I’m not a surgeon, what am I? What do I do from here?”

“What do you want to do?”

Liz is silent. And I realize it’s probably an insensitive question. She’s on the verge of losing her career, and I’m throwing back the question she’s probably been stressing over since she realized her injury was career-ending. But I’ve found that it helps when someone else says it. It makes the brain recalibrate.

“If you couldn’t be a surgeon, what would you do?”

“Ever since I was a kid, I wanted to help people. I wanted to be a teacher, a firefighter, a doctor. But sometimes I don’t feel like I’m making a difference in the bigger picture with the path I chose. Doing that is almost impossible in this country.”

My heart swells, because we’re becoming closer than I ever imagined we would. Sure, I dreamed that we would have this kind of relationship, but I didn’t expect it. “What do you mean?”

“Healthcare is big business in America,” she says. “There’s a lot of money in making people sick and keeping people sick.”

“Go on.”

Her body tenses, but she continues, “We live in a country of convenience. We live in a country that doesn’t regulate food like they should. It makes people sick. It makes them obese. It causes disease. So who do they need? Doctors. And medication. Do you think the people who profit off our unhealthy society are really going to try to stop it? Nope. It’s about a paycheck. It’s actually about millions of paychecks. Imagine how many people would be out of jobs if we had a healthier country.

“Can you really say you’re a doctor who cares about your patients if you aren’t actively and loudly seeking regulations on what goes into food and looking for ways to make people healthier?”

“Dang. That doesn’t sound like anything any doctor I’ve ever met would say.”

She rubs the crown of her head with her fingers. “Yeah, I know.”

“You’re right, though.” I use the tip of my forefinger to draw invisible stars on her palm. “Disease will never go away. Too much money to be made. Too many people with jobs in that field. I mean, back in the day, it was revered to find cures or vaccinations. Now it’s like ‘Shhh! We can’t tell anyone about that.’”

She laughs humorlessly. “Right? If someone came up with a cure for cancer, think of how many people would lose their jobs.”

“Not just in the healthcare industry either. What about all the charities that make money off sickness?” I add.

“I am aware.” She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Say it, Liz.”

“Say what?”

“You totally want to blast a charity right now. I can see it.”

“As in any industry, there are charities that take advantage of people. I, personally, don’t believe the president of a nonprofit should make hundreds of thousands of dollars per year. I question their motives. Are they in it for the cause or the paycheck? I’m not against someone wanting to make money. But if you want six and seven-figure salaries, you should be the president of a for-profit company.”

“I get it, totally. And I love how passionate you are about it. About justice. About doing things for the right reasons. About not taking advantage of people. It’s beautiful.”

She looks toward the window, avoiding my eyes. “Strength is beautiful. People who know what they want to do. People who start a path and finish it.” Almost instantly, the fire is gone. I’ve hit a nerve, and now I have to figure out the real reason so I can help her.

“Why are you so hard on yourself? It was an accident. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was my fault. I was driving. I lost control. I crashed my car and ruined my hand. I destroyed my career.”

“Okay, fine. If you want to get super-technical, yes, it was your fault in the sense of you were driving. But you didn’t do it on purpose. You didn’t think, ‘Hey, I should fuck up my hand so I can’t be a surgeon anymore.’ It was an accident.”

“You know what’s sad, Austin?” she asks, then automatically continues, “Sometimes I feel relief because it gave me an out.”

“An out?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve been so focused on surgery, but the more I saw people struggling to afford even basic care, the more I wanted to help them. Healthcare isn’t just for the rich. For some reason we vilify people who can’t afford care. It’s sad. And it’s not the attitude about people that I want to have, despite—” She closes her eyes and shakes her head.

It’s almost as if a lightbulb pops up over my head.

At first, I questioned my attraction to Liz—the connection was palpable—but I didn’t understand the energy that brought us together because I didn’t really know her yet. But now I do. I see her beautiful heart—and I finally see her internal struggle.

This injury, and the loss of her career as a surgeon is hard on her, of course, but the deeper struggle is that she doesn’t want to disappoint her parents. Not only that, but her fundamental feelings about healthcare go against her parents’ values. She’s having trouble breaking free from the people who gave her the means to her career.

I wrap my arms around her and bring her into my chest. “It’s okay to admit that you want something different than what your parents want for you,” I say before placing my lips on her head. “You’ll never be happy until you take the path that’s in your heart. The quicker you break free from the expectations of others, the quicker you’ll feel good about the one you chose yourself.”

Her body shakes against mine, silently sobbing and nodding. I rock her gently, letting her know that I’ll hold her for as long as she needs. I’m here for her through whatever comes next.

After a minute, she leans back and I loosen my grip. She tucks a leg under her, then grabs my hands, placing them in her lap.

“Admitting is the first step.” She sniffs.

“Absolutely. Now we can plan, right? How can you help people in the way you’d feel good about? You’re already a doctor. Can’t you just open an office or something?”

“I wish it were that easy.” She lets go of one hand to wipe her cheek. “I still have to complete a residency. I’ve been in surgery for three years. Changing my specialty means I start over. Or at least from year two. I think the first would count toward a family-medicine residency. I’ll have to check.”

“Okay. So that’s your plan?”

“Yeah. That’s my plan,” she says quietly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so flippant. I know it hurts, Liz. All those years—”

“Wasted,” she finishes.

“No. Not wasted. You gained amazing experience. You’ll be able to take that into helping patients in the future. What if someone needs care after surgery? You know what to do. Maybe one of those procedure things you know how to do.”

She laughs, but I know it’s with me, not at me. I have no clue what the fuck she’s talking about when she starts going off about central lines and PV catheters and bronchoscopies. All that shit is a foreign language to me, but I love listening because she’s passionate about her work.

Liz slides her palm across my cheek. “Thank you.”

“I see you, Liz. I see your beautiful soul. I see the way you treat others and the love you have for your career. You’re going to accomplish amazing things, no matter how it works out.” She closes her eyes as I speak, so I lean over and kiss her eyelids. “It will work out.”

When she opens her eyes, they’re glassy with tears. “How did I get so lucky to find you, Austin?”

“The universe brought us together for a reason, babe. I really believe that. There are no coincidences. We never would have met if it weren’t meant to be.”

“Is it weird to feel this much for you so quickly? Because no one else has ever made me feel as special as you make me feel.”

“You’re asking the wrong guy. I’m so completely smitten with you it scares me.”

“I’m sorry I put you in an awkward situation tonight, but I’m glad we can work through it. Thank you for forgiving me.”

“You know how you can make it up to me?” I ask.

“How?”

I pat the bed and lift my eyebrows suggestively. She cocks her head in disbelief.

“Really? Here? Now?”

“I can’t help it,” I admit sheepishly. “I love your mind. And your heart. And the fact that we can talk about all this stuff like adults. It got me all excited.” I watch Liz’s gaze drop to my crotch, where my dick is practically busting out of my swim trunks, and smile. “Then my mind veered off into how fucking hot you are and how much you turn me on. I have a short attention span.”

“I’ve never had sex in this bed,” she says quietly.

Our eyes meet. Anticipation hangs thick in the air, making my heart beat faster. I raise my eyebrows.

Liz breaks the eye contact first, glancing at the door. “The party is still going. All those people are—”

“Outside.” I drop to my knees in front of her and slide my hands up the outside of her thighs. “Not in here.”

She bites her bottom lip and grabs the hem of her dress, pulling it up to reveal her long, tanned legs, which fall open easily. I can’t keep the smile off my face when I realize she’s not wearing any underwear. I slide my hands under her ass and pull her closer to my mouth.

She immediately responds with a moan, which makes me go all-in, full force. Though, I’d love to push into her and feel her tight pussy squeezing my cock, I want this to be about her—her pleasure, her release. We can fuck later, when we aren’t in her parent’s house.

“Just lie back and relax, baby. I got you.”

After we’ve both had a few minutes to pull ourselves together, we join hands and head down the spiral staircase. I feel like king of the world. Or maybe the scoundrel who stole the king’s girl. Either way, I’m on cloud nine.

The discomfort of the situation and the ability to talk through it gave me confidence in our relationship. I feel completely bonded to Liz. Nothing can get in the way. Nothing will tear us apart.

Except maybe the couple staring coldly at us from the bottom of the stairs. Though I haven’t met him yet, I’ve seen Harris Commons on TV and in the local news enough to know who he is. He’s one of the most influential people in Charlotte, seemingly involved in everything.

“Daddy!” Liz says with excitement. Maybe she doesn’t see the look of absolute disgust in her parents’ eyes as we descend the stairs. Or maybe I’m just being paranoid. “This is Austin.”

Harris seems relatively fine, but Cookie is glaring at me. If looks could kill, I would have never been born.

“Nice to finally meet you, Austin,” Harris says.

Well, that wasn’t so bad.

“What were you doing upstairs? The party is outside,” Harris asks.

“I needed a break from the party, so I was showing Austin around the house.”

“We don’t need people roaming around in places where no one is around. Last time that happened your grandmother’s pearls went missing.” Cookie glances at me.

Ahhh! There it is! The insulting insinuation that I’m a thief. I expected nothing less from the Commons family. Thanks, Cookie.

“Mom!” Liz snaps. She grabs my hand and squeezes it tightly.

“This is never going to work. End it now,” Cookie says in a hushed tone. Instead of answering, Liz shakes her head and tugs me past her parents.

When I first met Liz, I assumed she had a kick-ass mom because I couldn’t believe a guy like Harris Commons could raise human beings as awesome as her and her sisters. One night around her just proved that my initial assumption was completely wrong.

Cookie Commons is a complete and total bee-yotch.