by Sylvia Day
“How about you?” he asked.
“I’m starting to get into it. In this crazy world filled with billions of people, we managed to find each other. As Cary would say, we should celebrate that.”
We talked about first dances and seating arrangements as Angus maneuvered us through the traffic that seemed to always clog Midtown. Looking past Mark out the window, I watched a cab come to a stop at the light beside us. The passenger in the back pinched a phone between her shoulder and ear, lips moving a mile a minute and hands furiously flipping through a notebook. Behind her, on the corner, a hot dog cart vendor did brisk business with a waiting line of five people.
When we finally arrived and I stepped out onto the sidewalk I knew right where we were. “Hey!”
Tucked below street level, the Mexican restaurant was one we’d been to before. And it just so happened to employ a server I was very fond of.
Mark laughed. “You quit so suddenly Shawna didn’t have time to request the day off.”
“Aww, man.” My chest felt tight. It was starting to feel like an ending I wasn’t ready for.
“Come on.” He caught me by the elbow and directed me inside, where I quickly spotted the table that held a party of familiar faces and Mylar balloons that said GREAT JOB and BEST WISHES and CONGRATS.
“Wow.” My eyes burned with a sudden wash of tears.
Megumi and Will sat with Steven at a table set for six. Shawna stood behind her brother’s chair, their bright red hair impossible to miss.
“Eva!” they shouted in chorus, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.
“Oh my God,” I breathed, my heart breaking more than a little. I was suddenly filled with sadness and doubt, faced with what I was giving up, even if only in one way. “You guys are so not getting rid of me!”
“Of course not.” Shawna came over and gave me a hug, her slim arms strong and fierce around me. “We’ve got a bachelorette blowout to plan!”
“Woot!” Megumi wrapped me in a hug the second Shawna stepped back.
“Maybe we could skip that tradition,” interjected a warm, deep voice behind me.
Turning in surprise, I faced Gideon. He stood beside Mark with a single, perfect red rose in hand.
Mark flashed a big smile. “He touched base earlier to see if we were doing anything and said he wanted to come.”
I smiled through my tears. I wasn’t losing my friends, and I was gaining so much more. Gideon was always there when I needed him, even before I realized he was the integral piece that was missing.
“I dare you to try their diablo salsa,” I challenged, holding my hand out for my rose.
His lips curved faintly with a subtle smile, the one that did me in every time—and every other woman in the room, too, I couldn’t help but notice. But the look in his eyes, the understanding and support for what I was feeling … That was all mine.
“It’s your party, angel mine.”
4
The two-story house that sprawled along the coastline glowed with golden warmth spilling from every window. Lights embedded in the curving driveway glittered like a bed of stars in the gloaming, while hydrangea bushes the size of small cars burst with petals around the edges of the wide lawn.
“Isn’t it pretty?” Eva asked, her back to me as she knelt on the black leather bench seat and stared out the window.
“Stunning,” I replied, although I was referring to her. She was vibrating with excitement and a childlike delight. I took that in, needing to understand it and the cause. Her happiness was vital to me. It was the wellspring of my own contentment, the weight that balanced my equilibrium and kept me steady.
She glanced over her shoulder at me as Angus slowed the limo to a halt by the front steps. “Are you checking out my butt?”
My gaze dropped to her ass, cupped so perfectly by the shorts she’d changed into after work. “Now that you mention it …”
She plopped down onto the seat with a huff of laughter. “There’s no help for you, you know that?”
“Yes, I knew there was no cure the first time you kissed me.”
“I’m pretty sure you kissed me.”
I held back a smile. “Is that the way it went?”
Her gaze narrowed. “You better be joking. That moment should be seared into your brain.”
Reaching over, I ran my hand down her bare thigh. “Is it seared into yours?” I murmured, pleased by the thought.
“Hey, now,” Cary interrupted, pulling his ear buds out. “Don’t forget I’m sitting right here.”
Eva’s roommate had been unobtrusively watching a movie on his tablet during the nearly two-hour drive through evening traffic, but I could never forget he was there. Cary Taylor was a fixture in my wife’s life and I accepted it, even if I didn’t like it. While I believed he loved Eva, I also believed he made bad choices that put her in tough situations and even posed a risk.
Angus opened the door. Eva was out and running up the steps before I put my tablet away. Monica opened the front door just as her daughter hit the top landing.
Surprised by my wife’s enthusiasm, considering she barely tolerated her mother most of the time, I stared after her curiously.
Cary laughed as he gathered his things and shoved them into a small messenger bag. “One whiff. That’s all it takes.”
“Excuse me?”
“Monica usually bakes these crazy good cookies with peanut butter cups. Eva’s making sure she stashes some before I get in there and eat ’em all.”
Making a mental note to get that recipe, I looked back toward the two women on the porch, catching them exchanging air kisses before they both turned to look my way. At that moment, with Monica dressed in capris and a casual shirt, the similarities between them were striking.
Cary hopped out and took the steps two at a time, barreling directly into Monica’s open-armed embrace and lifting her off her feet. Their laughter rang out through the gathering dusk.
I heard Angus speak to me from where he stood by the open door. “You can’t spend the weekend in the limo, lad.”
Amused, I left my tablet on the seat and stepped out.
He grinned. “It’ll be good for you to have family.”
I set my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I already have one.”
For years, Angus had been all I’d had. And he’d been enough.
“Come on, slowpoke!” Eva came back to me, grabbing my hand and dragging me up the steps after her.
“Gideon.” Monica’s smile was wide and warm.
“Monica.” I held out my hand and was startled to be hugged tightly instead.
“I’d tell you to call me Mom,” she said, pulling back. “But I’m afraid I’d feel old.”
Awkwardness morphed into a prickling that ran down my spine. It struck me then that I’d miscalculated to a wide degree.
Marriage to Eva made her mine. It also made me hers, and connected me to her loved ones in a very personal way.
Monica and I had known each other for a while, our paths crossing occasionally because of the various children’s charities we both supported. We’d established particular parameters for our interactions, just as every association followed known protocols.
Abruptly, that was all blown to hell.
I found myself glancing back at Angus, at a loss. Apparently my predicament was entertaining, since he gave me a wink and left me to my own devices. He rounded the trunk to greet Benjamin Clancy, who waited by the driver’s-side door of the limo.
“The garage is over there,” Monica said, pointing at the two-story building across the road that was a small replica of the main house. “Clancy will make sure your driver gets settled and your bags are brought in.”
Eva tugged on my hand and led me inside. Cary had guessed right. I was inundated with the smell of buttery vanilla. Not candles. Cookies. The homey and comforting scent made me itch to turn around and step back outside.
I wasn’t prepared. I’d come as a guest, Eva’s plus-one.
To be a son-in-law, a true member of the family, was a possibility I hadn’t anticipated.
“I love this house,” Eva said, taking me through the archway that framed the opening to the living room.
I saw what I expected. An upscale beach house with white-slipcovered seating and nautical-themed accessories.
“Don’t you love the espresso hardwood floors?” she asked. “I would’ve gone with bleached oak, but that’s so predictable, right? And the green, orange, and yellow accent colors over the usual blue? Makes me want to go rogue when we get back to the Outer Banks.”
She had no idea how much I wanted to get back there now. There at least I’d have more than a second to myself before I had to deal with a houseful of brand-new relatives.
The expansive living area flowed directly into the open kitchen, where Stanton, Martin, Lacey, and Cary all gathered around a large kitchen island with seating for six. The entire space shared the view of the water afforded by a row of sliding glass panels that opened onto a wide veranda.
“Hey!” Eva protested. “You better save me some cookies!”
Stanton grinned and approached us. Dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, he looked like a younger version of the man I knew from our dealings in New York. He’d shed the corporate vibe along with his suit, and I felt like I faced a stranger.
“Eva.” Stanton kissed Eva’s cheek, then turned to me. “Gideon.”
Accustomed to being addressed by my last name, I wasn’t braced for the hug that followed.
“Congratulations,” he said, giving me a firm pat on the back before releasing me.
Irritation simmered. Where was the natural evolution? The gradual shifting from business colleague to social acquaintance. And from there, from friend to family?
I abruptly thought of Victor. He’d understood what my marriage meant in a way I hadn’t.
While I stood stiffly, Stanton smiled at my wife. “I think your mother stashed some cookies in the warming drawer for you.”
“Yes!” She rushed into the kitchen, leaving me with her stepfather.
My stepfather-in-law.
My gaze followed her. In doing so, I caught the wave Martin Stanton sent my way, and I acknowledged it with a nod. If he tried to hug me, he was going to get a fist in the face.
I’d once told him he could count on seeing me at family gatherings. It felt surreal now that it was actually happening. Like I was being punked.
Eva’s husky laugh carried across the room to me and drew my eye. She held her left hand out to the blonde standing by Martin, showing off the ring I’d given her when I made her my wife.
Monica joined Stanton and me, sliding into place at her husband’s side. Her youthful beauty aged him, drawing attention to the stark whiteness of his hair and the lines etching his face. It was evident, however, that Stanton didn’t care about the decades that separated him and his wife. He lit up when he looked at her, his faded blue eyes softening with affection.
I searched for something appropriate to say. In the end, all that came out was, “You have a beautiful home.”
“It didn’t look this good before Monica got her hands on it.” Stanton wrapped an arm around her slender waist. “Same can be said for me.”
“Richard.” Monica shook her head. “Can I give you a tour, Gideon?”
“Let’s give the man a drink first,” Stanton suggested, eyeing me. “He’s been in the car awhile.”
“Wine?” she offered.
“Maybe scotch,” Stanton said.
“Scotch would be great,” I replied, chagrined that my unease was apparently obvious.
I was out of my element, something I should be used to since meeting Eva, but she had been an anchor of sorts, even as she sent me reeling. As long as I held on to her, I could weather any storm. Or so I’d thought.
Looking for my wife, I turned and felt a rush of relief to find her coming toward me with a bounce in her step that had her ponytail swaying.
“Try this,” she ordered, lifting a cookie to my lips.
I opened my mouth but snapped my teeth shut a split second too soon, deliberately nipping her fingers.
“Ow.” She frowned, but the literal bite of pain had the intended effect of focusing her attention on me. The frown faded as understanding dimmed the light in her eyes. She saw me, saw what was happening inside me.
“Want to go outside?” she murmured.
“In a minute.” I jerked my chin toward the bar in the living room where Stanton was pouring my drink. I also caught her by the wrist, keeping her close.
It rankled, holding her back from the group. I didn’t want to be one of those men who smother the women who love them. But I needed time to adjust to all this. The usual distance I maintained from others, including Cary, wouldn’t be acceptable with Monica or Stanton. Not after seeing how much joy Eva took in being with those she considered family.
Family for her was a safe place. She was as relaxed and easy as I’d ever seen her. For me, gatherings like this sent up red flags.
I told myself to chill as Stanton returned with our drinks. But I didn’t let my guard down completely.
Martin came over and introduced his girlfriend, both of them offering congratulations. That went as expected, which soothed me a little, although not as much as the double scotch I polished off with one swallow.
“I’m going to show him the beach,” Eva said, taking the empty glass from me and setting it on an end table we passed on the way to the glass doors.
It was warmer outside than it was in the house, summer lingering this year to the very end. A strong salt-tinged breeze washed over us, whipping my hair across my face.
We walked to the edge of the lapping surf, her hand in mine.
“What’s going on?” she asked, facing me.
The concern in her voice had me bristling. “Did you know this was some sort of family celebration because we’re married?”
She recoiled from the snap in my tone. “I didn’t think about it like that. And Mom didn’t call it that, but I suppose it makes sense.”
“Not to me.” I turned my back to her and began walking into the wind, letting it blow my hair away from my heated face.
“Gideon!” Eva hurried after me. “Why are you mad?”
I rounded on her. “I wasn’t expecting this!”
“What?”
“The assimilation-into-the-family crap.”
She frowned. “Well, yeah. I told you they knew.”
“That shouldn’t change anything.”
“Uh … Why tell them, then? You wanted them to know, Gideon.” She stared at me when I didn’t say anything. “What did you think would happen?”
“I never expected to get married, Eva, so forgive me if I didn’t think about it.”
“Okay.” She held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m confused.”
And I didn’t know how to make things clear. “I can’t … I’m not ready for this.”
“Ready for what?”
I waved an impatient hand toward the house. “For that.”
“Can you be more specific?” she asked carefully.
“I … No.”
“Did I miss something in there?” Her voice held a sharp note of anger. “What did they say, Gideon?”
It took me a moment to understand that she was rising to my defense. That only goaded me further. “I came here to be with you. It just so happens you’re spending time with your family—”
“They’re your family, too.”
“I didn’t ask for that.”
I watched as understanding sifted across her face. When pity followed, my fists clenched at my sides. “Don’t look at me like that, Eva.”
“I don’t know what to say. Tell me what you need.”
I exhaled roughly. “More liquor.” Her mouth curved. “I’m sure you won’t be the first groom who feels the need to drink around his in-laws.”
“Can we not call them that, please?”
The faint smi
le faded. “What would that change? You can call them Mr. and Mrs. Stanton, but—”
“I’m not the one who’s confused about where I fit here.”
Her lips pursed. “I’m not sure I agree with that.”
“Two days ago, they would’ve shaken my hand and called me Cross. Now, it’s hugs and ‘call me Mom’ and smiles that expect something!”
“Actually, she told you not to call her Mom, but I get it. You’re their son by marriage and it’s freaking you out. Still, is it so terrible that they’re happy about it? Would you prefer it if they were like my dad?”
“Yes.” I knew how to deal with anger and disappointment.
Eva took a step back, her eyes dark and wide in the light of a waning moon.
“No,” I retracted, shoving a hand through my hair. I didn’t know how to deal with disappointing her. “Damn it. I don’t know.”
She stared at me for a long minute. I looked away, out over the water.
“Gideon …” She closed the gap she’d put between us. “Honestly, I get it. My mom’s been married three times. Every time it’s a new instant father figure that I—”
“I have a stepfather,” I interrupted tersely. “It’s not the same thing. No one gives a shit whether a stepparent likes you.”
“Is that what this is about?” She walked into me and hugged me tight. “They already like you.”
I gripped her close. “They don’t fucking know me.”
“They will. And they’re going to love you. You’re every parent’s dream.”
“Cut the bullshit, Eva.”
She shoved away from me, her temper flaring. “You know what? If you didn’t want any in-laws, you should’ve married an orphan.”
She marched back toward the house.
“Get back here,” I snapped.
She flipped her middle finger at me over her shoulder.
I caught her in three strides, grabbing her arm and spinning her back around. “We’re not done.”
“I am.” Eva pushed up onto her tiptoes to get in my face, which still left her tilting her head back to glare at me. “You’re the one who wanted to get married. If you’re having cold feet, it’s all on you.”
“Don’t make this my problem!” Fury sizzled through my blood, ratcheting up my frustration.
