One game of truth or hot sauce. One palm that was missing a line. One conversation I wasn't supposed to hear. My fiancée has a secret, and my grandmother has just run out of patience.
The night I met Skyler, she disappeared before I could ask her out.
It was a party at my friend Dan's place in Brooklyn. She was the funniest person in the room. Five minutes in, she had me laughing about a stranger's terrible sweater.
An hour in, I knew I wanted to see her again.
"Have you seen Skyler?" I asked Dan.
"Green jacket? She left ten minutes ago." He frowned. "Honestly, I think she was crying."
Had I said something stupid?
I replayed our whole conversation that night. The next day I tracked her down through two friends of friends and sent her a message. She took six hours to answer.
Sorry I vanished. I'd love to get coffee.
Coffee turned into dinner. Dinner turned into every weekend.
A year later, I proposed. She said yes.
Now I was finally taking her home to Colorado.
I'd lived in New York for years, so Skyler hadn't met anyone in my family. Not one person.
"What if they hate me?" she asked as we pulled up to the cabin.
Her hands were wrapped around the seatbelt strap. Her knuckles were white.
"Sky. It's my parents. Not a firing squad."
The second we got out of the car, Mom hugged her.
Dad welcomed her like he'd known her for years.
Then she said slowly, "Are you by any chance..."
"I'm so hungry from the drive! Something smells amazing in here."
Dinner was loud and warm. Skyler helped Mom with the potatoes. She laughed at Dad's fishing joke, the one even I had stopped laughing at.
Grandma barely said a word.
But she watched Skyler the whole time.
"She's perfect," Mom whispered to me in the hallway. "You two are going to be so happy."
After dinner, Mom clapped her hands.
"Game time! Truth or Hot Sauce. Family tradition."
"Oh no," Dad groaned. "Last year I cried for ten minutes."
"You asked for the extra hot one," Mom said.
Everyone agreed. Even Grandma, who never agreed to anything.
"What's Truth or Hot Sauce?" Skyler asked.
"Truth or Dare, but the dare is a spoonful of this." Mom held up a tiny red bottle. "We need something to spin. Sweetheart, you're closest. Second shelf in that cupboard. The green bottle."
Skyler reached up and pulled it down. She held it out with both hands.
Her eyes dropped to Skyler's open palm.
"Huh," she murmured. "That's odd. There's no line."
"It's nothing," Mom said quickly, letting go. "Silly hobby. Forget I said anything."
Skyler curled her fingers into a fist.
Then she laughed. "Blank slate. Fresh start."
We sat in a circle on the living room floor, the hot sauce in the middle like a campfire. Mom spun first. The bottle landed on me.
"What do you want most from the future?" Mom asked.
"Easy." I grinned. "A loud house. Kids everywhere, a dog that steals socks. Basically this place, but with me in charge of the pancakes."
Mom clapped. Dad raised his glass. Skyler smiled at me.
Then Grandma reached for the bottle.
She gave it one slow spin and watched it turn.
"Truth or hot sauce?" Grandma asked.
Skyler looked at the little red bottle.
Mom handed her the spoon. Skyler swallowed it without blinking, then coughed until her eyes watered.
I laughed and rubbed her back.
I woke around two in the morning.
Skyler's side of the bed was empty. Voices drifted up from the kitchen.
I crept to the top of the stairs.
"You need to tell him the truth," Grandma said. "If you don't, I will."
"You know perfectly well you can't tell him anything," Skyler whispered.
"Maybe I can't," Grandma said. "But you can. And you should."
"Then stop lying to him."
I leaned forward. My foot hit a loose step, and it creaked like a gunshot.
I ran back to bed and pretended to sleep. A minute later, Skyler slid in beside me.
I stared at the ceiling until the window turned gray. I didn't suspect that this wouldn't be my last sleepless night.
At breakfast, once we were alone, I asked, "What truth are you supposed to tell me?"
She set her coffee down carefully, like it might break.
"It's about my past. But it doesn't change how I feel about you."
"Then why can't you tell me?"
"Can you give me some time?"
"I know." Her voice cracked. "Please."
I hated it. But I nodded. "Fine. Not forever, though."
I thought that was the end of it.
Then, before lunch, Grandma called everyone into the living room.
"I've decided to change my will," she said.
Dad blinked. "Mom, what?"
"The house in Denver. The land. The investments." She folded her hands. "All of it was going to Daniel."
"And the cabin," she added quietly. "That, too."
My throat tightened. Grandpa built that cabin with his own hands. I learned to swim off that dock. I'd always known it would be mine.
"Mom, you can't be serious," Dad said.
I stared at her. "You met her yesterday. Why do you hate her?"
"If you marry Skyler, you won't inherit a single dollar."
"It isn't about whether I like her."
Grandma looked straight at Skyler.
Skyler didn't say a word. She sat pale and frozen.
"You deserve the whole truth before you marry anyone. That's all I'll say."
Mom tried to speak. Grandma raised a hand, and Mom stopped.
"He's your grandson," Dad said. "Not a business deal."
"Which is exactly why he deserves the truth," Grandma said.
"Keep your money, Grandma. Keep the cabin. I'm marrying her."
"I never thought the woman who taught me to love people would try to buy my decision."
Grandma flinched. She said nothing.
Skyler hadn't spoken once.
That night I was zipping up our bags when Mom appeared in the doorway.
"Daniel. Whatever this is, I'm on your side."
It seemed to me that she wanted to say something else but changed her mind.
She kissed my forehead and left.
When Skyler came out of the bathroom, I said, "We're leaving first thing in the morning. I don't need the money. I don't need the cabin."
She wrapped her arms around me and held on tight.
"Are you sure you won't regret this?"
"You're the woman I want to spend my life with. What could I possibly regret?"
Stress, I figured. It had been a brutal day.
Her side of the bed was cold. Her suitcase was gone.
Her engagement ring sat on the pillow.
I called her. Straight to voicemail.
An hour later, my phone buzzed.
I'm sorry. You deserve someone who can give you everything you want. Please don't look for me.