We consider taking our bikes to Smithy’s like we did when we were kids, but a quick check in the shed reveals that Brianna’s and my bikes both have flat tires.

Carina suggests walking, but that will add almost another hour to our outing.

“I don’t want to leave Archer alone that long with Dad,” I say truthfully. Brianna and Carina understand—Dad has a history of “testing” our boyfriends by asking them awkward questions.

“It’s a rite of passage, you know,” Brianna points out with a shrug. “If you bring a boy home, sooner or later you have to let Dad do his dad-thing.” Nonetheless, she gets her keys out of her purse and gestures at us to follow her to her car.

Carina and Brianna sit in the front while I automatically take the back seat, just like I always did when we were kids. I don’t even realize it until we’re halfway down the long dirt path that connects our house to the main road, but once again I’ve reverted to my role as the baby in the family.

Carina keeps up a running stream of gossip and commentary on the short drive. I’m grateful to her; I’m feeling quiet and thoughtful, and I’m glad I don’t have to do much to hold up my end of the conversation.

Smithy’s, I’m glad to see, hasn’t changed at all. Brianna parks about half a block down on the street, and we walk up the sidewalk then mount the wooden steps that lead to the ancient screen door. The sound of our feet on the steps brings on a wave of nostalgia, as does the dim interior.

There’s absolutely nothing fancy or modern about it. The lighting is poor, the floor is cracked linoleum, and the walls haven’t been painted probably since the store opened. A couple of lazy ceiling fans keep the air fresh, though, and the cool scent of ice cream hits me as we step in, bringing on a fresh wave of nostalgia for when we’d ride our bikes down here, feeling so grown up for being by ourselves and paying with our allowance money.

Even our ice cream flavors say something about us: Brianna gets French vanilla in a cup, simple but elegant—and less messy than a cone; Carina gets something with orange, mango and strawberry swirls, typically colorful; and I get my beloved mint chocolate chip, traditional and basic—but oh, so tasty.

We take our ice creams and slide into a booth lined in peeling orange vinyl.

“Okay,” Brianna gets right to business. “What’s the scoop with this Archer guy?”

It hits me that she’s somehow discovered that I hired him, and my stomach gives a nasty lurch.

“Oh my gosh, yes!” Carina breaks in enthusiastically. “You made it sound like you two were just sort of friends, but I can totally feel the heat between you two!”

My relief at realizing I haven’t been found out gives way to embarrassment. Is it that obvious that I have the hots for him? On the one hand, it’s good that we look convincing; on the other, I know full well that my attraction to him isn’t reciprocated, and I don’t want to be the object of my family’s pity when we “break up.”

I lick my ice cream cone, stalling for time. “He’s nice, isn’t he?”

Carina laughs, and Brianna raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“Yes, he seems very nice,” Brianna agrees, “but there’s got to be a bit more going on here than just nice.”

There’s a whole lot more, but I’m not going to tell them about it.

“Okay,” I go on, “he’s … thoughtful …” He has been thoughtful, I muse, not in a giving-me-my-favorite-flowers way, but in making sure I get the experience I originally hired him for.

It’s not exactly the experience I want now, but it’s not like he knows that, and that’s not an experience I could buy anyway.

“He’s smart, he works hard …” I continue, trying to come up with some other good qualities for Archer based on our very limited acquaintance. “And he’s smoking hot,” I conclude with a casual lift of my shoulders.

Carina leans in, a wicked smile on her face. “Okay, what’s he like in bed?”

I can feel my face go up in flames. Carina laughs, and Brianna nudges Carina in the ribs.

“Ignore the inappropriate questions,” Brianna orders. “We’ll just assume he’s incredible.”

I manage a laugh, more embarrassed at being so clearly thrown by the question than by the question itself. I’m thinking again of our early morning cuddle—which probably shouldn’t count since Archer wasn’t conscious, but I’m counting it anyway—and the two kisses we’ve shared. They might both have been stage kisses, but they still fall into the “incredible” category as far as I’m concerned.

Carina reaches a hand across the table and squeezes mine. “We’re just so happy for you. I know how dedicated you are to your research, and it’s not like you need a guy to be complete or anything, but you just look so happy when you’re around him. You’re such a wonderful person and you deserve someone who’s just as amazing as you are.”

I’m not surprised to see that Carina’s eyes are a bit teary. She’s very emotional and cries at the drop of a hat. But I am deeply touched by her declaration—and a little guilty at the thought that it’s made under false pretenses.

It occurs to me that I got what I wanted. I’ve made the point I wanted to make to my family: that I’m a grown up, capable of an adult relationship with an enviable guy.

And I no longer care.

Not only is the relationship a lie, but it doesn’t actually matter anymore anyway. My family loves me and wants me to be happy, which, for the most part, I am. Sure, I’d love a sexy, amazing boyfriend, but I’d like him for me, not to impress other people. In the meantime, I’m passionate about the research I’m doing, and I love my life.

It seems incredible now that I was willing to fork out the better part of a month’s rent to have a stranger hanging on my arm for an evening, but I’m not sorry I did it. I got exactly what I wanted—to impress my friends and family—and even more than that—the realization that I don’t really need to.

For a moment, I consider telling Brianna and Carina about Gentlemen, Inc. and ’fessing up to the whole thing, but I bite back the urge. It’s no longer about saving face; it’s that if Archer is going to spend the next couple of days with us, I don’t want my family treating him any differently than they are now.

I swallow, but my voice is a little thick with emotion anyway when I speak. “Thank you, Carina,” I say. “I … I don’t really know where this thing with Archer is going to go. Really, we haven’t known each other very long at all, but … I like him a lot.”

This, at least, is the truth, and it feels good to admit it out loud.

Carina sniffs a little and grabs for a paper napkin to dab her eyes. Brianna barely suppresses an eye roll and pretends not to notice this obvious display of emotion.

I decide it’s time to change the subject, so I go on the offensive. “Okay, that’s my love life squared away. What about yours?”

We spend another half hour at Smithy’s, but it turns out that Brianna and Carina had little to offer in the way of romantic gossip. Brianna insists that she’s too focused on getting Jared’s start-up off the ground to have time for romance, and Carina’s only current prospect is Peter, the old roommate’s brother who’d come to the party.

“You like him?” I ask. He’d arrived late the other night and I’d met him only in passing. He was good looking and already seemed to be falling under Carina’s spell—he couldn’t take his eyes off her—but when I ask her about him she just shrugs.

“We have a dinner date for next week when I get back, but I doubt it’ll go anywhere. He’s too serious for me,” she adds carelessly.

But her eyes kind of slide away from mine as she says it, and I realize that all of Carina’s boyfriends never more than a date or two before she dismisses them: too serious, too frivolous, too stuffy, too laid back, too boring, too flashy.

She passes herself off as being kind of flighty, but I know how much she wants a family of her own … so why does she push these guys away again and again?

I glance at Brianna, wondering if she’s noticed the same thing, but she’s checking her phone for messages. It’s not altogether unreasonable, as we don’t get cell service at the house, but there’s a stiffness to her posture that suggests she’s not comfortable with the conversation and is trying to avoid it. Brianna’s had a couple of long-term relationships that I know about, but they’ve faded away without much drama; I never got the feeling she was particularly passionate about the men she dated. And now I wonder if she's actually happy with that or not.

For the first time in my life, I realize that my sisters’ lives aren’t perfect. I mean, yeah, I understood that on a conscious level—no one’s life is perfect. But unconsciously, I’ve always assumed that they somehow had it all figured out, knew exactly what they wanted and how to get it.

But suddenly I know that however beautiful and successful and popular they are, they have their own burdens to carry. Carina wants a family of her own but for some reason pushes away every man who comes within her radius. Brianna’s built up so many walls that no one really knows what she wants, not even her own family. Maybe not even herself.

Ironically, it’s hiring Archer out of jealousy that has finally given me the clarity I need to see my sisters for who they really are—still wonderful, but a long way from perfect.

“I love you guys,” I say simply.

Carina gives me a meltingly loving look and her eyes start to get watery again.

“We love you too, Belle,” she declares.

Brianna looks alarmed at this emotional declaration but covers it with an indulgent smile.

“Of course we do.” She sniffs slightly and shuts off her phone, stuffing it back into her purse. “Now, are you ladies ready to head back to the ranch and rescue Annabelle’s poor boyfriend?”