Half an hour later, the car pulls up to the curb on a busy, congested street, and Christopher opens the door and climbs out. “Thanks.”
“Have a good night.” Hans smiles.
“Thank you.” I smile. Christopher holds his hand out to take mine and helps me from the car, and we begin to walk up the street toward the restaurant. I’m as nervous as all hell. “Any tips?” I ask.
“For what?”
“To meet your family.”
He puts his arm around me and kisses my temple as we walk. “They’re going to love you, Grumps.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I love you.”
I smile up at him, and he stops and kisses me softly. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For . . .” He shrugs. “Putting up with me.”
I smile, feeling a lot better about us, and we kiss again. Our lips linger over each other’s. “You ready to do this?” he asks.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
He takes my hand and leads me into the restaurant. It’s trendy, and every table is full.
“Good evening, Mr. Miles.” The waiter smiles.
“Hello,” Christopher replies.
“This way.” The waiter turns and walks off, and we follow him. I notice a few people turn their heads to watch Christopher walk past.
Does everyone in this godforsaken town know who he is?
We walk through a large archway into a semiprivate area. Still a part of the main restaurant but a little separated. People are sitting around a huge round table, and they see us and all stand. “Hi, everyone.” Christopher smiles. “This is Hayden.”
“Hi,” I squeak as I look around nervously.
“Hey,” they all cheer, excited.
“This is my brother Jameson and his wife, Emily.”
“Hello.” I feel faint. He didn’t tell me his brother is ridiculously hot.
They both kiss me on the cheek. “Hello.” His wife is pregnant.
“And this is my mother and father, Elizabeth and George.”
“Hello.”
His father kisses my cheek, and his mother pulls me in for a hug. “Hello, darling, it’s so good to finally meet you.” She holds my two hands in hers as she studies me.
She’s so well put together that she looks like a queen or something, super attractive for her age.
“Okay, Mom, you’re being creepy now.” Christopher widens his eyes at her as he pulls out my chair. I fall into it beside his brother’s wife, wishing this night was over already.
Emily fills my glass. “Drink,” she whispers.
I giggle. I like her already. “Good idea.”
“Where are the Anderson Mileses?” Christopher asks.
“Oh, they’ll be late as usual, darling,” his mother says as she picks up her wineglass. “Hayden.” She smiles over at me. “Christopher didn’t tell me you were so beautiful.”
“Oh.” I frown, embarrassed.
“She is, isn’t she?” Christopher smiles proudly as he reaches over and takes my hand in my lap.
Emily watches us and then hunches her shoulders in excitement. She looks around the table at the others, and I feel like an amusement in a freak show.
“So . . .” His mother smiles as she looks between us. “Tell us how you two met.”
“Come on, Mom.” Christopher sighs. “We just got here. Can we leave the fifty questions until Hayden is drunk, please?”
Everyone chuckles, and I sip my wine. Not a drill. For real.
A boy comes running through the restaurant. “Grandma,” he yells as he grabs her in a headlock from behind.
She laughs out loud. “Hello, my sweet Patrick.”
He dives to sit beside her, and she wipes the hair back from his forehead as they talk between themselves. I would say he’s around ten years of age.
“Hello, Patrick.” Everyone smiles.
“This is Patrick, my brother Tristan’s son,” Christopher says. He gestures to me. “This is Hayden.”
Patrick looks over at me in surprise and then back to Christopher. “Where have you been?”
“I went on a trip.”
“Why so long?”
Everyone chuckles.
“Sorry we’re late,” a woman says as she takes off her coat. She’s pretty, with dark hair, and heavily pregnant. “I’m Claire.” She smiles as she shakes my hand. Christopher stands and laughs and takes her into his arms. It’s obvious the two of them are close.
“What have you done with my brother?” he teases.
“He’s coming.” She rolls her eyes.
I turn to see a large boy, a teenager, walking toward us, and behind him is a man who is Christopher’s double. My mouth nearly falls open. The resemblance is uncanny.
“Hi,” he says. “Sorry we’re late.” He smiles and comes straight over to me. “You must be Hayden?”
“Yes.”
He pulls me out of the chair and into his arms for a hug. He’s tall and good looking like the other two brothers. Talk about a gene pool.
Oh . . . he smells good.
“I’m Tristan.”
“Hello.”
“This is my son, Harry.” He introduces me to the large boy. God . . . he must have had this kid when he was ten.
“Hello.” The boy smiles as he shakes my hand.
Tristan pulls the chair out, directing Harry where to sit. “What do you want to drink, babe?”
Claire exhales, clearly sick of being pregnant. “You know what I want to drink.”
He raises a cheeky eyebrow. “Lemonade?”
“Can’t wait,” she mutters dryly.
Claire smiles over at me. “How long have you got to go?” I ask.
“I’m eight months. Hopefully a few weeks.”
Tristan reaches over and puts his hand protectively on her pregnant stomach. “You stay in there and behave yourself,” he says casually. He turns back to talking to Jameson.
Claire rolls her eyes. “Tristan is obsessed with babies. This is our third in four years.”
Emily and I laugh.
“He’ll annoy the poor thing to death.” Claire rolls her eyes again.
I look to the older boys sitting at the table in confusion.
“These are my sons,” she explains. “Tristan’s now too. He adopted them when we got married. Their biological father died.”
“Oh.” I smile as I connect the dots. “I see.”
I look to Tristan with love hearts in my eyes. He took on her children: not at all what I would expect. He’s a good guy.
Harry is watching something on his phone with the volume turned up so loud that everyone can hear it. Tristan gestures to his neck as if saying, Cut it out.
Harry rolls his eyes, and Tristan looks at him deadpan. Harry exhales and turns it down, and I bite my lip to hide my smile.
Patrick is chatting away to his grandmother, and she is laughing and talking to him like she has all the time in the world as he fiddles with her hair. He’s telling her some in-depth story about what happened at baseball practice as she listens to his story intently.
I like her.
I turn my attention to Emily. She has dark hair and is pretty. “How far along are you?”
“Five months.”
Oh, I would have thought further along than that.
“I’m huge.” She exhales. “Baby number four. My stomach is stretched to the shit. It’s like a fucking tent in there.”
Claire hushes her. “It will bounce back.”
Jeez.
Jameson stretches out and puts his arm across the back of Emily’s chair as he talks to the boys. His finger traces a circle on her shoulder.
“Everyone’s babies are so close.” I smile.
“Too close.” Emily rolls her eyes. “Jameson wants the diaper stage over as quick as possible.”
“Makes sense.”
“How do you like New York?” Claire smiles warmly.
“It’s . . .” I shrug.
“It’s a lot to take on,” she whispers.
Emily reaches over and takes my hand in hers. “We were the same.”
They know.
“Tell me this gets easier.”
They exchange looks and laughs. “Oh, sweetie,” Claire says. “It doesn’t, but you do get used to it.”
I force a smile.
“Dad,” Patrick says across the table.
Tristan keeps talking to Jameson and Christopher.
“Dad.”
He still doesn’t hear him.
“Dad.”
Tristan keeps talking.
“Dad.”
“Dad’s talking, Patrick,” Claire says. “Use your manners, please.”
“Excuse me, Dad!” he screams.
The whole table stops talking, and Tristan looks across the table, startled. “Yes, Patrick, what is it?”
“I want fries tonight.”