Continuation 2
"How was your drive in from Atlanta?" I ask, motioning around the condo which is littered with boxes and huge plastic containers. "What's all this stuff?" "Beads, lace, fabrics," Ainsley says. "You must have hit every estate sale on your drive in," Brody says. Ainsley is wicked smart, scored a perfect thirty-six on her ACT. I credit myself for helping her through Honors Biology II. But beyond being book smart, she's got a creative side to match. She designs wedding dresses for a living. Her creativity and brains earned her a full scholarship to the Savannah College of Art and Design. It was hard for Brody to let her go away to school, but ultimately knew it was best for Ainsley. Before moving back to Charleston, Ainsley's been working in Atlanta. Her dream is to own her own shop. She loves to take beading and lace from vintage dresses, and use them in her work. No one designs dresses like her. She hand-stitches every bead herself. "I can't wait for you to get started on my dress," Skye says. "I've already got some things sketched out," Ainsley says. Wedding dress talk? That's my cue for a beer, getting up to grab some cold ones out of the refrigerator. I take out three and hand one to Brody. I offer one to Skye, but she shakes her head. "Still trying to lose those last five pounds before the wedding," she says. I roll my eyes. Skye is always on some sort of diet. In the years that I've known her, she's been every size under the sun, but Brody loves her no matter what. I hold out the beer to Ainsley, who takes it with a smile.
"Thanks, Rhett," Ainsley says.
Brody's eyes dart to me. "Don't give her . . ." Ainsley's in her mid-twenties. Brody is really overdoing it today. "Sorry, I forgot. Can I see your ID, miss?" I snark. Ainsley busts out into a huge laugh, popping her top and taking a long sip, smacking her lips for good measure. "Got to love a woman who likes beer," I say then bite the corner of my mouth, realizing that was a slip of the tongue. Skye elbows Brody again—harder this time. "Sorry, sis," Brody says, and Ainsley throws him a smile. That smile. Her smile could melt any guy's heart. I want her to smile at me like that. To make her smile like that. I try not to stare at her, but the combination of her shorts and those knee-high socks has me struck stupid. I can't help myself. It doesn't hurt to look, right? Truthfully, she isn't dressed provocatively. She looks more like a college girl, but the curve of her neck seems to call to me. The way her lips linger on the bottle is driving me crazy. Something about the way she moves makes me unable to concentrate. "Where's the pitching? You call that a slider!" Ainsley scolds the television. Skye looks at her like she's an alien. "What? I spent my formative years with these two," Ainsley says, pointing to me and Brody. "We raised her right," Brody says, raising his beer to me. "Beer and baseball," Skye says, smiling at Ainsley. "And a wedding dress designer. Interesting combo." "That should be my personal ad. Hopeless romantic who likes beer and baseball . . ."
"What personal ad?" Brody asks.
"You better not be on some dating app," I add, a wave of heat shooting over my body. "I don't want to hear about you swiping right!" "She was kidding," Skye says, smacking us both this time. "Ainsley, I don't know how you survived being raised by us." "The Three Stooges," Ainsley says. "I laughed a lot. And snuck around." "Don't tease your brother," Skye says. "He may have a heart attack. And I'd like to finally walk down the aisle after over ten years together." Ainsley smiles again. She's one of those people that smiles easily. Even after all the pain in her life, smiling is as natural as breathing to her. Smiling while hurting is a talent she and I have in common, only she does it to make the world a better place, and I do it to keep the world from looking too closely.
The truth is, Ainsley was a good kid. Living with two twenty-one-year-old guys couldn't have been easy, but it was often funny. Thank God, Skye had been there to provide a female influence. Brody was the hard ass. And I was the fun, laid-back one, who protected her from Brody. The three of us are bonded for life over raising Ainsley. My parents were a big part of the process, too. Brody and Ainsley became a feature at all my family gatherings. My parents love them both. Ainsley went to high school while we finished college and vet school. The day Ainsley left for college was bittersweet. I went from seeing her every day to only seeing her on the holidays, and somewhere in between all that, she went from being a girl to a woman, at least for me.
Brody and I opened our vet clinic in Charleston, and Skye became a nurse at a fertility clinic. Life just moved on, no longer about who was carpooling Ainsley, who could help with her calculus homework, or teach her how to drive. "I'm so glad you guys are finally getting married. You are so perfect together and college sweethearts. It's so romantic," Ainsley says. That's my cue. Time for another beer. This is when Ainsley looks younger than her age—believing in a happy little fairytale marriage. She hasn't outgrown the notion that one day she'll meet her prince. I guess we did something right with her, if she can still believe in love like that. Turning back, I find Ainsley's blue eyes right on me. She gives me a small, reassuring smile like she can read my mind. I smile back at her. She had her heart broken recently, so maybe she needs reassurance that everything will be alright. I know for her it will be. She breaks our gaze and turns her attention back to the game. Sitting down on the floor next to her chair, I pat Sadie, who promptly licks my cheek, her own little reassurance. Ainsley reaches over and pats Sadie, too. I can't resist. I gently glide my finger over her pinkie, just one time so she'll assume it's an accident. She doesn't squirm. She doesn't blush. Still, I see tiny goosebumps on her pale skin. My eyes wander down to Sadie's fur, where both our hands are patting her. My hand is as close as it can be to hers without touching. Time to test the waters. I move my pinkie slightly, but her voice stops me.
"How about you, Rhett? Still seeing that girl from Christmas, Meghan?" Ainsley asks. "Who?" I ask, no clue who she's talking about. "Meghan, stunning, long-legged flight attendant." "Nah," I say, wondering what made Ainsley think of her. Skye rolls her eyes. "She was perfect for him. Out of town a lot, no big commitment." "Until she used the love word," Brody piles on. "Kiss of death." "Yeah, like after two weeks," I say, the ridiculousness of that conversation coming back to me. "Here's the thing, Ainsley. Now that you're living here, you should know—don't ever set Rhett up with any of your girlfriends because they'll all end up hating you," Skye says.