My family is arriving home tonight, and I can't wait to see everyone.
Driving up to the new house, I'm reminded that my parents spared no expense in building this beautiful property. The house sits on seven acres and looks like a colonial mansion from the 1930s but smaller at just over 5,000 square feet. It has five bedrooms and seven bathrooms, a chef's kitchen, and a three-car garage. The pool and gazebo with a grill and bar set up are on one side of the house, and a separate one-bedroom guesthouse is nestled up the hill across from it. The massive lot, with its own private pond and a garden with outdoor benches, trees, and countless flowers and plants, looks more like a well-manicured park than a backyard. The only thing missing is a playground for Noah, which will be arriving in a few days. I'm sure Dad and I are going to have a field day trying to put that thing together.
Once inside the house, I get to work and prepare a simple dinner of roasted chicken and salad, knowing everyone will be tired and hungry when they arrive.
As I put the chicken in the oven, the doorbell rings.
"Hi, Son," says Dad as soon as I open the door. He's holding a suitcase in each hand.
"Dad!" I exclaim, throwing my arms around him.
I take the suitcases from him and see Mom walking up the steps behind him.
"Hi, Sweetheart," she says, kissing me on the cheek. "I'm so happy to see you."
"I'm happy to see you too, Mom," I say, looking behind her, "Where's Noah?"
"He fell asleep in the car," she says. "Shay is taking him out."
"Go give her a hand," says Dad.
I put the suitcases down in the foyer and run out to the car.
I can see Shay reaching into the car. She's wearing a gray striped sundress, and her long hair is braided down her back. She's struggling with the seatbelt, trying to extract Noah from the seat.
"Hi, Shay," I say. "Here, let me help you."
I hear her say thank you before she turns around to face me. I feel the entire universe stand still when I'm met with a captivating, genuine smile and the most mesmerizing emerald-green gaze I've ever seen.
It's her.
Chapter 3
Sharon
So this is Jon , I think to myself, eyeing him as intently as he's eyeing me. While Noah favors his mother, Jon definitely takes after his dad. He's tall and has broad shoulders and a muscular build. He has a strong, square jaw and a full mouth. His eyes are dark gray with gold around the irises. They're framed by long, thick eyelashes, and there's a small scar on the corner of his left eyebrow.
I'm staring, and he knows it.
"Hi," I say, extending my hand to shake his. "You must be Jon." His handshake is warm and firm, but he doesn't smile back.
"Are you okay?" I ask when I notice him turning pale as a ghost.
"Yes," he says, "I'm fine."
He doesn't say more but he doesn't let go of my hand either. We're at an impasse, a standoff, deadlocked.
"Can I have my hand back?" I ask when the awkward silence and prolonged contact make me blush.
"I'm sorry," he says, letting go of my hand. "It's just that, well, I wasn't expecting, I wasn't expecting you to be—"
"Be what?" I ask, wondering where this is going.
"Sharon," he finally says. "I wasn't expecting you to be Sharon."
"That is my name," I say, not understanding what he means.
"My parents and brother always called you Shay. I never knew you were Sharon."