Page 38 of The Kiss Countdown

I open my eyes. The first thing I notice—and am instantly thankful for—is that the car is stationary. We’re surrounded by a canopy of green trees, and through branches I see the sky is quickly darkening.

“We’re here,” he says. “You made it.”

“We’re here?” I repeat. At his nod, I close my eyes and let my head fall against the headrest with my hands over my heart. “Thank you, Lord.”

“Remind me to get you some antianxiety pills for next time.”

Next time?Yeah, that’s not happening.

I open my eyes to tell him just that, but stop at the sight before me. “I thought you said we were going to your family’s cabin?”

Vincent gestures forward. “Yeah. We’re here.”

“But that’s not a cabin.”

“Yes, it is.” He shrugs. “At least, that’s what we’ve always called it. See the siding and the deck? It’s all wood.”

“This looked a lot different in my head,” I murmur.

I pictured those cute little cabins a kid might draw with two windows on each side of a wooden door, large logs holding up the frame, and a triangle roof. This is... not it.

While it’s technically made of long logs, it’s a two-story home with a large deck winding around the second floor. Floor-to-ceiling windows give it a clean modern look, and the open curtains bathe the front porch and green shrubs in a picturesque glow.

Vincent has parked beside an old red pickup truck, and I wonder how long he’s been sitting out here to let me sleep.

“Should we go in?” I ask.

“Yeah.” Vincent lets out a heavy breath, then opens his door.

I follow suit and meet him at the bed of the truck. It’s once again a game of speed when I reach for my overnight bag, but Vincent grabs it first and slings it over his shoulder before reaching for his own. Again, he heaves a sigh before turning away.

We walk toward the front door, and I’m reminded of how tense he was when we got to the New Year’s Eve party. His jaw is set in a tight line and his shoulders are stiff. It looks like he’s walking toward his doom, not about to see his family.

Once we approach the wooden steps, I wrap my hand around his forearm in a show of support so he knows I’ve got his back this week.

Vincent looks down at me in surprise, then a smile helps to relax some of the strain around his eyes.

“My first time meeting the family,” I say as brightly as I can. “Do you think they’ll like me?”

He covers my arm with his hand. “They’ll fall for you as quickly as I did.”

I know his words are fake, just like mine were, but my heart jumps into my throat.

We face the door, but it swings open before we can knock.

“Vincent’s here!” A woman who must be Vincent’s mom lets loose a joyous laugh before throwing herself out the house.

I let go of Vincent and step to the side as his mom wraps him in a fierce hug. “You’re finally here.” After getting her fill, she steps back and wipes a tear away.

I’m caught off guard when she turns her attention to me.

The woman inspecting me, Mrs. Rogers, is beautiful. She’s in her midfifties, though I never would have guessedif Vincent hadn’t told me beforehand. Her brown skin has a bright, youthful glow, and her arms have more definition than mine. She looks like she could be Vincent’s slightly older sister, and I can’t help but compare her to my mom, who seems to age with each hospital visit. A knot of sorrow pinches my chest.

“Finally, the woman my son’s been hiding away from me,” Mrs. Rogers says.

“Momma,” Vincent says. “This is Amerie.”

I blink, and like a light switch, I flip on my best smile while holding out my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Rogers.”

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