Page 58 of Ticket to You

On a scale from one to ten, how bad would it be if I spend the weekend with Adam and his family?

She texts back within seconds.

If you’re asking me, the opposite of bad. If you’re asking Jane Sommerland…Maybe just don’t ask Jane Sommerland.

To make it to the party on time, I have no choice but to get ready for it in the airport bathroom. Though I did my hair and makeup this morning, the eight-hour flight was not kind to me, tangling my hair and zapping my skin of any moisture. I brush through my brunette waves, touch up my under-eye concealer, and douse my skin in a facial spray. I don’t even have the luxury of having my endless wardrobe at my fingertips, so I rifle through my bags looking for anything halfway decent for meeting Adam’s family for the first time. Thankfully, I’m a chronic overpacker, so I still have a weekend’s worth of clean clothes.

After about an hour of begging on the flight, Adam finally told me that his family usually dresses in simple basics, so I pull on the faded straight-leg jeans I packed. My best blouse, the cream silk one with delicate lace detailing at the neckline and sleeves, is covered in wrinkles, so I splash a bit of water on it and “steam” it under the hand dryer. It’s not perfect, but with time winding down, I ignore the finer wrinkles and slide my black chunky loafers on. The last thing I do is secure my strawberry-print watch Adam gave me before meeting him outside.

As soon as he sees me, Adam scoops me up into his arms as if we’ve been apart for months, not minutes. It’s a bit strange seeing him go from Mr. Broody to Mr. PDA, but I don’t mind one bit.

After Adam drops me back to the ground, I do a quick spin. “How do I look?”

“Like you aren’t jet-lagged one bit.”

“I think that’s from the triple espresso.”

He holds out a small box to me. “Your watch. Safe and sound.”

It’s almost too good to be true. I snatch the box without wasting a second. Inside, my grandfather’s watch lays, the gold of its face shining up at me. There’s the old warn strap. There are the hands that don’t keep time. And there, on the inside of the band, is my grandfather’s handwriting. I think he would have liked Adam.

I hand the watch back to Adam, and it passes between our hands gently, like a piece of fine China we’re afraid to shatter. “Can you help me put it on?” Adam begins undoing the strap of my strawberry-print strap, but I yank my hand away. “My other wrist.”

“Are you actually going to wear both watches?” Adam asks.

I know it’s a ridiculous look, but I don’t care. “Areyoureally givingmefashion advice?”

Adam left his car parked at the airport, a Subaru hybrid because,of course, he drives a Subaru hybrid. We have an hour’s drive until we get to his mom’s house, and I waste no time interrogating him on all things Abrams family.

I tap my fingers against my knees. “Are you excited to see your family?”

Adam’s mouth twists up. “Sure. Or we can skip the party and spend the evening just the two of us,” he says in a dramatic, sultry voice.

“Are you second-guessing your decision to have me meet them?” My tone is playful, but my body tenses, unsure of what his answer will be.

Adam’s expression darkens. “Not exactly.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, a fresh wave of nerves crashing over me.

“Since the holiday party, I’ve been very careful, verycalculatedwith how I present myself to you. I’m not great at showing what I’m feeling or at opening up. I know it. I’ve tried to be better about it. But my family… I just don’t want anything to throw you off, freak you out. They’re not as coy about their feelings. And…”

“You think they won’t like me?” I ask, trying to make sense of where his sentence was going.

“They’d be stupid not to. My mom can be difficult, but…” Adam shakes his head. “They’ll like you. They will. Eloise is excited to see you again, of course. And my brothers are probably planning what they can say to embarrass me the quickest.”

“Well then, they and I can have that in common.”

* * *

Adam turnsthe car into a lavish New Haven neighborhood. It’s the kind of area where I wouldn’t be surprised to see Oprah or Ryan Reynolds walking around. The road is lined with trees and flowers. Beyond them, sprawling yards surround homes that must have cost millions.

I roll my eyes as Adam pulls into one of the long, ornate driveways with immaculately trimmed greenery on either side. “Very funny.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “What’s funny?”

Outside my window, a massive home stands tall, shrouded on either side by thick, old trees. Its stone base and steel blue shingle sides gleam in the evening sun, and a porch wraps around the front of the house. Even from a distance, I can see intricate detailing on the porch railings.

“Adam, this is your house?” I gawk.

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