Stewart wasn’t sure what had happened. He was trying really hard not to think too much about his date with Henry, but it seemed to be the only thing that filled his thoughts. He normally didn’t have any problem letting his thoughts idle away, taking him where they may. Lately though, the only place they wanted to take him was back to Henry. To the way Henry’s jawline looked when his lips pursed, the way his stubble framed his gorgeous face, his nose, his eyes…
Stewart felt like a teenager again. He was smitten, and it felt almost crushing, like he couldn’t breathe whenever he thought about Henry. The thought of Henry with someone else made him almost feel sick with jealousy, which he knew was stupid. He didn’t want to have these feelings for a man he barely knew, a man he knew he didn’t have a chance with. He was sure he had made a fool of himself, and Henry didn’t want to see him again.
Why would he? Why would he want to see Stewart again after Stewart had so thoroughly fucked everything up? Stewart hadn’t wanted to lie to him. He could have—maybe he should have. That was all he could think about as he looked down at the food in front of him. The entire thing made the room smell amazing, like salty and savory food. The plate in front of him was full of greens with herb-encrusted grilled chicken. He wanted to look forward to it. He normally didn’t mind having dinner with his family—in fact, sometimes he looked forward to it.
His sisters were nice, and he liked to see them. These Sunday dinners, which they had every other Sunday, were the perfect thing to do. He didn’t like seeing them more often than that because that made his life considerably more difficult.
He was trying his best to focus on what they were saying. Bonnie tucked a strand of grayish brown hair behind her ear. She refused to dye it—she always had—which Stewart found slightly admirable about her. They were the sort of family that grayed early. Alison and Beatrice had dyed their hair when they hit thirty, so now there was a redhead and a blonde in the family.
Stewart had thought it was funny back when they had first done it. Now it was just a normal part of life. He was only thinking about his sisters’ hair colors because he didn’t want to think about Henry, and he wasn’t thinking about the food that had just been served.
All he could think about was Henry. Stupid Henry, with the gorgeous chocolate eyes and the hair and the—Alison touched his shoulder, which brought him crashing back to reality.
“Stew,” she said, her voice quiet. “You okay?”
Stewart turned to look at her. She was the quietest one of them all and the one most in touch with her emotions. Stewart liked being around her the most, but she rarely left her house without her husband and that atrocious little dog of hers she kept in her purse. Stewart had banned the dog during dinners. He didn’t mind seeing the dog at the dog park, but he certainly didn’t want to see him when he was trying to eat.
She frowned, her perfectly threaded eyebrows small and fierce. “Stew?”
“I’m fine,” he said.
“Are you sure?” Bonnie asked. Every time Stewart spoke, it was as if all three of them had to stop talking. It was a little endearing but mostly terribly annoying.
“I’m fine,” Stewart repeated, a little more harshly than he meant to.
“Yeah, it sounds like you’re totally fine,” Beatrice said, raising her eyebrows. “What’s going on?”
He knew they weren’t going to leave him alone if he didn’t fess up, or at least admit to something. The three of them were like dogs with bones, and until they knew something, they weren’t going to let it go. When it came to Stewart’s love life—what little there was of it—he preferred to keep it to himself, mostly because he knew they had a vested interest in it turning out how they wanted.
Still, they were normally his confidantes, and the Henry thing had hit Stewart way harder than he had expected it to. After weighing his options, he decided not to share. He would, he supposed, if they pressed him about it.
He just hoped to God they wouldn’t. He sighed before he spoke, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did. “It's not really something I want to bother you guys with.”
There was a long moment of silence. They were clearly expecting him to say more, so Stewart decided to bite the bullet, regardless of how much he didn’t want to. They were all staring at him, too. There was no way to get out of it. “The truth is,” he said quietly. “I don't even know if I want to talk about it.”
They exchanged a significant look. Stewart kind of hated them a little bit right then. There was no way to ask them to drop it without them prying even more.
Beatrice was the first one who spoke. She looped a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and tilted her head before setting her gaze on Stewart. “You know you can always talk to us,” she said. “About anything. We won’t even tell Mom.”
Stewart snickered. “We’re not teenagers anymore,” he said. “Mom is hardly what I’m worried about.”
“Really?”
Stewart shook his head. “Well, I’m always a little concerned about what Mom is going to say. I mean, I’m still a person. And Mom is…”
He didn’t have to say anything else. They all knew exactly what their mother was like. Magnificent, a little scary. That’s why she wasn’t invited to these dinners, though she knew they had them. They had a special monthly thing with her, one which was much more formal and about five times scarier than this one. A murmur of assent passed through all of his sisters before Bonnie turned to look at him again, her eyes slightly narrowed. “Is this about Elle?”
Stewart cocked his head, mirroring her head tilt. He didn’t know how this conversation had taken this turn, but he didn’t dare ask. “No, why would it be about Elle?”
There was that significant look again. It was putting his teeth on edge.
He shrugged before he spoke once more. “Honestly, I haven't heard from Elle in a couple of months.”
Beatrice reached across the table and touched his hand. They had all been eating while having this conversation except for him. “Eat, dear.”
He did as he was told, taking small bites of his chicken. He was almost positive the food was good, objectively. He could smell how good the aroma was. In his mouth, he could taste the salt, the herbs, the little bits of green. Everything had been cooked to perfection, so it was a shame that it all tasted like cardboard. He chewed it slowly as he looked at his sisters, his gaze darting around at all three of them, waiting for them to say something else about this. Anything else about it. He didn’t want to carry the conversation and he didn’t want the conversation to start being about Henry.
Bonnie nodded, setting her gaze right on him. “That's what we're talking about. She said she would be getting in touch with you. You really need to talk to her, because you're going to lose her if you don’t.”
Stewart shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Lose her to what? Lose her how?”
Beatrice turned to look straight at him, her glare now icy. “Lose her to anyone,” she said. “Look, we all know you were a catch ten years ago. You’re still a catch now… but do you really think her family is going to keep waiting for you to step up?”
Stewart shook his head. “I have no idea what you mean.”
Bonnie rolled her eyes. “As if we would ever believe that,” she said. She was smiling, but she got serious when she looked at him again. “Look, none of us are crazy about this.”
“You guys act pretty crazy about it,” Stewart replied under his breath. He was pretty sure they all heard him, but none of them said anything about his little snarky comment, which suited him just fine. This had the potential to devolve into a fight, one which he didn’t want to have. His family was wound so tight, he always dreaded an argument with them. Even though his sisters meant well, they frequently ended up ganging up on him. With how exhausted he was from the way his date had gone, he didn’t want to get into it with them. He didn’t have the mental energy for that and he didn’t have the reserves of good mood he normally used to handle pressure like this.
“Look, I get it,” Beatrice said. “It’s hard for you. Do you think it was easy for us?”
Stewart shook his head. “I didn’t say that,” he replied, mumbling.
“You might as well have,” Allison said. She rarely sounded pissed off, but she did then. He turned to look at her, an apology on his lips, but she was shaking her head. “We all do what we have to do. Every single one of us. That should include you.”
Bonnie nodded. “Al is right,” she said. “Why do you get to be excluded from all of this? Just because you're the oldest, just because you're the boy?”
“No,” he said. His patience had worn thin and he was starting to get a little angry. “It’s because, unlike you guys, I actually care about my future.”
“Wow,” Bonnie said.
Stewart sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I swear. Okay, look, that’s the thing. You three are really good daughters. You do what Mom says and it works for you.”
“We don’t just do it because Mom says it,” Beatrice replied. “Think about it.”
“I do,” Stewart said. “I think about it a lot. I get it. I’m the odd one out. I’m the weird uncle your kids worry about. The more I keep thinking about this, the more I just don’t understand.”
“What don’t you understand?”
Stewart shook his head. He had already said too much. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was still upset about Henry and, as such, much more vulnerable than usual. “It doesn’t matter.”
“No, it does matter,” Bonnie said, “because we care what you think about us. That’s why it surprises me that you don’t seem to care what we think about you.”
Stewart sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly. He did care what they thought about him. They just never seemed to be able to get that he didn’t put what they thought about him above his own happiness, because that made absolutely no sense to him. “That’s not true,” he said. He was unwilling to elaborate. He knew that they knew that.
Beatrice sighed. “We got married to people who are very good at what they do, who have brought our family even more fortune. They’re guaranteeing what we have for generations to come.”
“What about us?” Stewart said.
Beatrice scoffed. “It’s not just about us,” she said. “We have all been set up with people who make sense for us. That’s what we’ve done.”
“Right,” Stewart said.
Beatrice sighed. “That’s what I’m saying. So have you. There’s nothing wrong with Elle.” Stewart nodded. He pushed his plate aside, though he was only half-finished. He didn’t like wasting food, but there was no way he was going to be able to finish his food now. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get through the rest of this dinner, full stop.
“Absolutely, there is nothing wrong with Elle,” Stewart said. “She would be the perfect match for me if I was even slightly interested in her that way.”
“I guess that’s what I don’t get,” Allison quietly said. “Why aren’t you interested in her?”
Stewart sighed. He leaned back on the chair and craned his neck to stare at his sister. Maybe this time she would finally understand. “I don't think I'm in love with her. She's nice.”
“She’s nice,” Allison repeated.
“She is! She's more than just a nice woman; she's my friend. I don't want to marry her. This isn’t the Victorian times. I should get to decide who I marry.”
“You should,” Allison said, nodding, “but see, that's exactly the problem. Because from where I'm standing, there's nothing wrong with her, and you yet have no plans to get married.”
Stewart waved his hands in front of his face. “I would maybe have plans to get married if I was interested in getting married to her at all. I'm just really not.”
His sisters exchanged a significant look.
“Okay, well let me put it this way then. Do you have any interest in marrying at any point?”
“To Elle?”
“To Elle,” Allison said. “To anybody.”
Stewart looked at her. He had never admitted that he had accepted a life as a solitary person to his sisters. Of course, he had admitted it during his first date with Henry because he was an utter idiot, but he had never actually said anything of the sort to his sisters. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess if I find the right person.”
Bonnie cocked her head. “Let’s make a deal.”
“A deal about who I’m marrying?”
“Yeah,” she said.
Stewart shook his head. “I don’t understand what you think I would get out of this.”
“Think about it,” she said. “You don’t like having these talks, right? We never let up though.”
“You don’t,” he said, rubbing his temple. “It’s really…”
“Grating?” Beatrice said. “We know, so listen to us. Then we will stop nagging you about it.”
“Fine,” he said. “What is it?”
“Well, you have what? Five months? Before you turn forty,” she said. “If you find someone else you want to marry in that time, marry them. We’ll stop bothering you about it.”
“Or…”
“Marry Elle,” Allison said. “Then we’ll let it go, too.”
“Just do what you guys want me to do?”
“Do what is good for you,” Bonnie said. “Do what is good for the family.”
“I don’t understand why I would take this deal.”
“Why wouldn’t you?” Bonnie said. “We just want you to be okay, hon. We want you to be fine. I don’t think not getting married by forty is fine.”
Stewart gawked at them.
Bonnie nodded. “Look, you don’t need to have sex with her. She could just be company or whatever,” she said. “You don’t need to do that.”
“Jesus,” Stewart said under his breath. “Fine. If it’ll get you guys to stop talking about my sex life.”
“Yes,” Allison said. “Pinky swear.”
She extended her hand and held her pinky out. They all did, all together, and the childish gesture was enough to make him smile. He wasn’t taking them seriously, but he knew they would bring it up again and again.
As they ended their pinky swear, he realized he might have the opportunity to do exactly what he wanted to do. That was, if Henry would have him.