I didn't realize how much pressure I was under until I stepped out onto Ryan's family's sprawling estate, a mansion, really: rich, sprawling lawns, a bit of a fountain trickling in the distance, and pillars around the place that would make it look as if it came straight out of some old movie. The second we pulled into the long driveway, I knew it would be anything but easy.
Ryan had not told me much; he said it was just a "family weekend," which he usually spends with his relatives to catch up. A casual affair, he said. I wasn't so sure about that now. The grand wrought-iron gates seemed to mock me, reminding me of the distance between my world and theirs.
Stepping from the car, I noticed delicate landscaping on pristine perfectly cut hedge and dripping wealth about every corner on the property. I had to remind myself that I was here to play a role: Ryan's girlfriend. Not as Emily, the event planner, or as the really out-of-place woman in this elitist world.
But then Ryan, quite unflappable, did not seem to be bothered by the enormity of the house. A very quick but reassuring glance he gave me before he walked toward the front door. "Just follow my lead," he muttered audibly under his breath.
I nodded, and my stomach curled into a tight knot. Meeting his family was such a big step, and I was not sure I was ready for it. But now, there was no choice. I had to convince them.
We crossed the threshold into a grand foyer, and the first face we happened to encounter was an old woman, probably in her sixties, and her expression brightened when she saw Ryan. "Ryan, darling, you're here!" Her voice was warm, inviting, and full of affection, and at the same time, I could feel the spike in my nervousness. This was his mother, after all. Of course, she would be charming.
There was no stopping her. The moment her gaze landed on me, it softened, widened: "And this must be Emily," she said, extending her hand. "So lovely to finally meet you. Ryan's told us all about you."
I shook her hand, a little sweaty on my palm. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mrs. Miller. Thank you for having me."
She chuckled in clear delight at my formality. "Oh, no need to be formal, dear. Call me Karen."
I smiled nervously; Ryan kissed his mother on the cheeks and led me into the main living room where several other members of his family were gathered. I caught sight of a large dining table set for dinner, and I could feel their eyes heavily coming to rest on us as we walked in.
A tall man in his forties, dark-haired like Ryan, looked up from his leather-bound novel and raised an eyebrow. "So, this is the famous Emily," he said with an amused grin. "Ryan's told us a lot about you."
I can feel my cheeks burning at the mention that Ryan "told them" about me. I was thinking, what has he said? Did he give them an image of who I was, or this was a completely clean slate?
"Nice to meet you," I said, extending my hand. "I've heard so much about you as well."
Ryan's brother—and I guessed that he'd possibly been called Alex—held my hand with warmth; somehow though, there was something almost predatory in the way he sized me up. I tried not to wiggle around. "I see why Ryan would be infatuated," he said with a wink. "You're quite enchanting."
I managed some nervous laughter. "Thank you. I am still adjusting to all of this."
Karen beamed at the exchange and waved us toward the dining table. "Dinner is ready, all! We'll talk more over a glass or two of wine."
I walked beside Ryan, perhaps feeling more out of place than ever. The other members of Ryan's family quickly settled into the rest of the long, polished table. Across from me were an older couple who identified as his aunt and uncle, respectively, and they started bombarding me with questions about my background. I really tried to keep up with most of it, but it was just too much polite inquisitiveness.
"So, Emily," his aunt inquired in a honey-sweetened yet sharp voice, "what grows up in the city for you? It must be so unlike all we share here."
I smiled, dry throat and all. "Actually grew up in a much smaller place, not so grand as this," I tried to sound upbeat, "but I have always loved the city; it's exciting and always changing."
The uncle of Ryan, a gentleman in his fifties with grey hair, leaned forward as if interested. "What is it exactly that you do, Emily? Ryan didn't quite say much."
"Oh, I'm an event planner," I quickly said, relieved that I could talk about something familiar. "I help organize everything, from corporate events to weddings."
"Wow," Karen said, a little surprised. "Everything sounds so interesting. It must take a lot of creativity to bring all of that together."
I nodded as this was the right thing to speak about. "Sure keeps me busy. But it's all in good fun. There's something to be said for just seeing everything fit in the end."
Then Ryan, who'd mostly been observing the talks quietly, spoke. "Emily's really good at it. She made one of the most complicated events I've attended look so easy."
I couldn't help but look at him, surprised at the words. What was so proud in the way he had said it made me feel as if I was playing a role not just in his life but in the life of his family as well.
Later into the evening, the tide of conversation turned, flowing between each of the people like water into their willing mouths. Everyone seemed genuinely interested in knowing me. But beneath the surface of asking polite questions and constantly smiling faces, I felt quite heavy under the pressure of keeping up the pretense. I was Emily, the woman who was dating Ryan Miller, the identity under which they had to agree that she would qualify in their minds as the perfect match for their son, brother, and nephew.
I laughed when appropriate, nodded when necessary, and gave warm responses to their questions. But the more I smiled and agreed, the more I felt like I was playing a part rather than living it. The harder I tried to keep up, the more I realized how much this fake relationship was starting to consume me.
After the we al stood to leave the table, Ryan's father stood and raised the glass, addressing everyone with his deep voice. "To family," he said and turned to look at each of us, softening his eyes, "and to new beginnings."
Everyone echoed him with the clinks of glasses; for a second, I almost let myself enjoy the warmth within. Until I saw something in Ryan's eyes flashing into something I knew ill-suited his facade when he raised his eyes across the table.
I am unclear what it is, but I know there is something telling me this meeting-this night-would not be only to persuade his family that I was the one for Ryan. It was also about him convincing himself.
We stood to walk away from the table, and his hand brushed against mine. I looked at him as he said, "You did great."
I lifted an eyebrow at him, for I was never really sure whether the compliment was meant to soothe me or him. "Yeah," I said quietly, "but I don't think anyone's been fooled yet."
Ryan's smile did not reach his eyes. "We will see."