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.
So I went to find her.
She was gone.
She was the funniest person in the room.
“Have you seen Skyler?” I asked Dan.
“Green jacket? She left ten minutes ago.” He frowned. “Honestly, I think she was crying.”
My stomach dropped.
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.
“Honestly, I think she was crying.”
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.
A year later, I proposed. She said yes.
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.
But Grandma just stared.
Then she said slowly, “Are you by any chance…”
“What if they hate me?”
Skyler suddenly laughed.
“I’m so hungry from the drive! Something smells amazing in here.”
Grandma stopped talking.
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.
“Are you by any chance…”
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.”
I believed her.
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.”
“Truth or Hot Sauce.”
“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.
“You two are going to be so happy.”
Mom took it.
Then she stopped.
Her eyes dropped to Skyler’s open palm.
“Huh,” she murmured. “That’s odd. There’s no line.”
“What line?” I asked.
“It’s nothing,” Mom said quickly, letting go. “Silly hobby. Forget I said anything.”
“There’s no line.”
Skyler curled her fingers into a fist.
Then she laughed. “Blank slate. Fresh start.”
Everyone laughed.
Except Grandma.
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.
“Blank slate. Fresh start.”
“Truth,” I said.
“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.
“Truth.”
She gave it one slow spin and watched it turn.
It slowed down. Stopped.
It pointed at Skyler.
“Truth or hot sauce?” Grandma asked.
The room went still.
Skyler looked at the little red bottle.
“Truth or hot sauce?”
“Hot sauce,” she said.
She said it too fast.
Mom handed her the spoon. Skyler swallowed it without blinking, then coughed until her eyes watered.
I laughed and rubbed her back.
She didn’t laugh.
She said it too fast.
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.”
My whole body went cold.
“You know perfectly well you can’t tell him anything,” Skyler whispered.
Skyler’s side of the bed was empty.
Silence.
“Maybe I can’t,” Grandma said. “But you can. And you should.”
“Please. I love him.”
“Then stop lying to him.”
I leaned forward. My foot hit a loose step, and it creaked like a gunshot.
The kitchen went silent.
“Please. I love him.”
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?”
I didn’t suspect that this wouldn’t be my last sleepless night.
“Can you give me some time?”
“We’re getting married.”
“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.
“Can you give me some time?”
“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.”
Then she turned to me.
“If you marry Skyler, you won’t inherit a single dollar.”
Nobody moved.
“I’ve decided to change my will.”
“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 am.”
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.”
“Then what is it about?”
Grandma looked straight at Skyler.
“She knows.”
Skyler didn’t say a word. She sat pale and frozen.
“Tell me why,” I said.
“She knows.”
“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.
I took Skyler’s hand.
“Keep your money, Grandma. Keep the cabin. I’m marrying her.”
“Which is exactly why he deserves the truth.”
“Daniel…”
“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.
“I’m marrying her.”
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?”
She started crying.
“Are you sure you won’t regret this?”
Stress, I figured. It had been a brutal day.
I woke up alone.
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.
Her engagement ring sat on the pillow.
I’m sorry. You deserve someone who can give you everything you want. Please don’t look for me.
I read it five times.
Everything I want? I had just given up the cabin for her. What else was there?
I shoved the ring into my pocket and went to find Grandma.
She was in the kitchen.
“What did you say to her?”
You deserve someone who can give you everything you want.
“Nothing. We haven’t spoken since the living room.” Her voice shook. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“You got exactly what you wanted. She’s gone. Are you happy now?”
Her eyes were wet. “No.”
“Then tell me how you know her.”
“I can’t. Whatever I know about her isn’t mine to share.”
“But you can use it to wreck our engagement?”
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
She had no answer.
“I don’t want to see you again,” I said.
I drove back to New York that day.
Skyler’s apartment was empty. Her phone stayed off.
I called her friend Madison, who was as scared as I was. Then I called everyone else I could think of.
By evening, Madison called back.
“Someone saw her at St. Luke’s,” she said. “The hospital.”
My blood ran cold.
A hospital. Something had happened to her.
Skyler’s apartment was empty. Her phone stayed off.
I ran out without my coat.
“I’m looking for my fiancée,” I told the woman at the front desk. My hands were shaking. “Please. I think something happened to her.”
She typed something and shook her head.
“I’m sorry, sir. We don’t have a patient by that surname.”
“I’m looking for my fiancée.”
“She was seen here. I know she was. She’s about five-six,” I said. “Brown curls. She laughs at her own jokes before she finishes them. She always has a hair tie around her wrist.”
The woman stopped typing.
“Wait.” She tilted her head. “Curls? Green jacket?”
My heart jumped. “Yes. That’s her.”
A slow smile spread across her face.
“Curls? Green jacket?”
“Oh, you mean Skyler. She isn’t a patient. She’s one of our volunteers.”
I froze.
“A what?”
“She comes every week to the children’s ward. Reads to the kids. Plays games.” She smiled wider. “They adore her.”
I followed her directions in a daze.
She isn’t a patient.
Through the glass of the playroom, I saw Skyler cross-legged on the floor. A little girl in a yellow gown was handing her a puzzle piece.
Skyler laughed.
I had never seen her look so peaceful.
Then she looked up.
The smile died on her face.
“She’s one of our volunteers.”
The little girl followed her gaze and tugged her sleeve.
“Is that Daniel?”
I stopped breathing.
She talked about me to these kids?
“Mia, finish the puzzle,” Skyler said softly. She stepped into the corridor and shut the door behind her.
“What are you doing here?”
She talked about me to these kids?
“I thought something happened to you.”
“I told you not to look for me.”
“You left your ring on a pillow.”
She looked away.
“No more riddles, Sky. Why did you run? And what does my grandmother know?”
She said nothing for a long time.
“I told you not to look for me.”
Then she looked back through the glass.
“There’s something I should have told you the night we met.”
We sat on a bench in the hallway.
“A few years ago, I had a major operation,” she said. “The doctors warned me it might affect my fertility. They just couldn’t say for sure.”
I stayed quiet.
“There’s something I should have told you the night we met.”
“I had a boyfriend. He lasted three weeks.” She stared at her hands. “When I told him how bad it might be, he said…”
She stopped.
“What did he say?”
“‘Why would I want a defective woman?'”
I felt sick.
“A few years ago, I had a major operation.”
“I waited years for the final results,” she said. “And the night of Dan’s party, the hospital called. Right in the middle of the party.”
“Skyler…”
“I can’t have children. Not naturally.”
Suddenly everything made sense. The empty party. The tears.
“‘Why would I want a defective woman?'”
“Your mom’s palm thing almost killed me,” Skyler said, laughing and crying at once. “I know it’s superstition. But it felt like she was reading my file.”
No matter what unverified nonsense I considered my mother’s hobby to be… she failed to see a “children’s line” on my fiancée’s hand!
“Is that why the children’s ward?” I asked quietly.
“It’s the one place I don’t feel like I’m missing something.”
“I can’t have children. Not naturally.”
My chest ached.
“And you’d just met me,” I said.
“Ten minutes before the call. Great timing, right?” She wiped her face. “I wanted a chance anyway. Then every time I tried to tell you, I heard his voice.”
“And my grandmother?”
“Ten minutes before the call. Great timing, right?”
“She was one of my doctors. She recognized me.” Skyler swallowed. “She couldn’t tell you. Doctor-patient confidentiality. That’s what I meant in the kitchen.”
“Then why did you leave?”
“Because you were about to lose your family, your inheritance, even the cabin, for something you didn’t know.” Her voice dropped. “I couldn’t let you.”
“She was one of my doctors.”
“Your text said I deserve everything I want.”
“You do.”
“I told you what I want. At that table. And you smiled like it hurt.” I shook my head. “You decided what I want for me. Without asking.”
She flinched.
“You should have let me decide for myself.”
“You decided what I want for me. Without asking.”
“I was afraid of losing you.”
“And you almost did. Not because you can’t have kids. Because you ran away instead of talking to me.”
Her face crumpled.
“We can adopt,” I said. “If we both want that.”
“What if you regret it? In ten years? Twenty?”
I could have lied. I could have promised forever.
“I was afraid of losing you.”
“I can’t promise what our lives will look like in twenty years,” I said. “But I know I want you in mine.”
I pulled her ring out of my pocket.
She stared at it. Then at me.
She held out her hand.
The next day we flew to Colorado.
Grandma opened the door before we could knock.
“She recognized me.”
“Daniel.”
“She told me everything,” I said. “And I’m still marrying her.”
Grandma looked at Skyler, then at me.
“I was scared for you, Daniel,” she admitted. “I thought you deserved to know the truth before marrying her. But I had no right to force it out of her.”
Skyler took her hand.
“She told me everything.”
“You were right that I needed to tell him. Just not like that.”
Grandma nodded, tears filling her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Skyler. To both of you.” She turned to me. “And Daniel, I never actually took you out of the will. I was bluffing.”
“I don’t care about the inheritance, Grandma,” I said. “I just want you at our wedding.”
She stared at me.
“You still want me there?”
“I just want you at our wedding.”
“Front row.”
Grandma pulled us both into a hug.
And for the first time in weeks, everything felt right again.