by Meghan March
“I’m so glad to finally meet you, Scarlett. You have no idea how long we’ve been waiting for one of these boys to meet someone we could invite over.”
“Mom . . .” Q’s voice comes from behind the two women, who are still blocking the doorway.
“She knows what I mean, Marcus. It’s not like she wasn’t aware of Gabe’s reputation when she started dating him.” Joanie turns her attention back to me. “Please, come in. It’s probably not what you’re used to, but it’s our home, and we hope you like it.”
The younger girl bites down hard on her lip, and I think I see a little of what’s going on here. They know exactly who I am.
Sometimes, being well-known is a double-edged sword because people have all sorts of opinions and expectations about you before you even say hello. So I do the only thing that I can think of to reset things to even.
“I’ve never been to a family barbecue before, so you’re going to have to tell me if I’m screwing something up. I don’t know how to cook, but I am really good at setting a table and washing dishes. Please, put me to work. I’ve got two hands, and they’re at your disposal.”
The girl’s eyes go wide. “You wash dishes? No way. Seriously?”
I wiggle my very capable hands in the air, spirit-finger style. “Of course. That’s what you do after you get them dirty, right?”
“But you’re Scarlett Priest. You’re like a bajillionaire celebrity. If you still have to do dishes . . . what hope is there for me?”
Thankfully, her teenage exasperation breaks the ice, and everyone, including Gabriel, Q, and Joanie, starts laughing.
“Poor kid. She was really hoping that when she’s a rich and famous YouTuber someday, she won’t have to cook, clean, or do laundry,” Joanie says, wiping a tear from her eye. “Her dreams are crushed.”
“You’re a YouTuber?” I ask Melanie.
She shrugs. “Not really yet. I make a ton of videos, but Mom and Dad won’t let me post anything. They’re worried that people are going to make fun of me or say mean things, and that it’ll hurt me. I have to wait until I’m sixteen before I can start posting.” She rolls her eyes. “Like age is going to make it easier to take.”
I can’t argue with her parents being protective or waiting until she’s a little older, but she certainly has the personality for it, at least from what I’ve seen and heard so far.
Joanie moves out of the doorway and ushers us inside. “Come on, get your appetizers while the food is hot. Mike will eat everything in sight if you don’t claim them quick. The man is a garbage disposal. Luckily, it doesn’t take away from that cute butt of his, so I haven’t put him on a diet yet.”
Gabriel kisses both her cheeks. “You know you’d never put him on a diet. You love making all that food and watching him devour it.”
“Ain’t that the damned truth? But, still, go get you some before it’s cold. Carrie and Dani are out back with Zoe. The men were trying to tell her how to set up her projector, and I’m surprised no one has lost a limb. They’ve officially been forbidden from touching anything with a cord for the rest of the day.”
Gabriel chuckles. “Sounds like Zoe. Tony and Chris should’ve known better.”
“Damn right! Zoe’s the best,” Bump says, craning his neck to see inside.
Joanie narrows her eyes on him. “Watch your language in this house, boy. You know the rules.”
“If I want to eat, I can’t cuss,” Bump singsongs with a heavy sigh. “You know how hard that is to remember? Because your food is so f—”
“You better be saying freaking,” Melanie says quickly.
“Yeah, freaking good,” Bump says, finishing with an angelic smile.
“Mm-hmm. I know what you’re trying to do. Butter me up so you can ask me what I made for dessert. You’ll have to wait with the rest of them, Bump. Now, go on.” Joanie swats him with her towel.
This is what a real family looks like. My heart is full as Gabriel lays his hand on the small of my back, and I precede him into the house.
Once we’re all in the backyard, I’m introduced to Q’s other sisters and their husbands. Dani and Tony and Carrie and Christopher seem nice, and I feel lucky I’ve got everyone’s names memorized so I don’t make a blunder that way.
When everybody starts moving through the line to get food, Melanie situates herself at my side. Gabriel smiles at her and shoots me a wink before walking up to the grill to grab a burger from Big Mike.
“How do you deal with it?” Melanie asks as I scoop fruit salad onto my plate.
I glance at her, and she dips into the potato salad. “How do I deal with what?”
“People everywhere knowing who you are. Dealing with the mean things they say about you. The nasty comments on your posts.”
I think of the troll that’s been the bane of my existence for the last several months. “It’s not easy sometimes, but it’s part of the deal.”
“Like you get so big that you don’t have a choice but to have assholes come at you?”
I turn my head, almost sure Joanie’s going to hear her swear, and somehow we’ll both get yelled at. But Joanie is bustling back into the kitchen, no doubt for more food.
“Yeah, pretty much. Anytime something or someone is popular, the haters come out.”
“It’s even worse online than in person, isn’t it?” Melanie asks.
“It can be. People don’t think as much about what they say when they type a quick, nasty remark on your post like they would if they were saying it to your face. There’s anonymity and safety behind those little avatars on our screens.”
Melanie’s mouth screws into a pout. “This is why we can’t have nice things. Because people are dicks. It’s so annoying. I’m over it.”
“Is someone being mean to you?” I ask her, feeling my protective instincts rise.
She shrugs. “Most people know who my uncle and Gabe are, so only the real idiots bother me.”
“But there is someone?” I probe further, wanting to make sure that the girl isn’t beating around the bush if there’s a real problem at hand.
“A few guys. I told Gabe all about them. They make fun of me because I’m still a virgin.”
A chunk of honeydew rolls off my plate and lands on the red-and-white-checked plastic tablecloth.
“And what did Gabe do?”
“Threatened to come to school and kick all their asses. Thankfully, it hasn’t come to that yet.”
I can totally picture him doing exactly that. Part of me wants to smile, but I keep my expression neutral. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Melanie blinks at me. “You’re Scarlett Priest. I just met you like ten minutes ago, and you already want to help me?” She says it skeptically.
“Of course. If I can help, I’d be more than happy to.”
Melanie nabs the rogue melon and pops it into her mouth. After she’s done chewing, she points a serious expression in my direction. “How old were you when you lost your virginity?”
Oh God. This is not where I expected this conversation to go. I’m panicking inside and hoping like hell it doesn’t show on my face.
“That’s probably a good subject for your mom to handle,” I say quietly, and hate when Melanie’s young face falls.
“She told me to wait until I was in love and wanted to marry the guy. I don’t want to get married. So I guess that means I should stay a virgin forever, and I can tell you I’m not thrilled about that idea at all.”
I reach for the spoon in the baked beans and pause. “I was twenty and in college, and I was tired of being a virgin when everyone else was out hooking up all the time.” I cut my eyes to Melanie. “I wish I’d waited for someone special, but I’m really, really glad that I didn’t have to see the guy every day in class for the rest of my college career, because he graduated shortly after.”
I’m trying to make a point without saying it directly, because I’m totally out of my depth with this subject. Melanie’s a pretty smart girl, thou
gh, obviously, and she picks up what I’m not saying in so many words.
“Oh my God. You’re right. What if I did have sex with one of them, and he dumped me right after, and I had to see him every day until graduation? Ew. That would suck.”
My head slowly bobs as realization floods her face. “Yeah, that would really suck. And you know what, Melanie? I’ve only known you for about fifteen minutes now, but I think it’s safe to say that you’re a bright girl, and you’ll know when it’s right. Don’t listen to anyone else. Not your friends, definitely not the boys. You will know, and who cares if you’re as old of a virgin as I was. Guess what? It didn’t hurt me any to wait longer. It was my choice, and I was good with it.”
A smile spreads across her face. “I make the decision. No one else. Just me.”
“Exactly.”
“Thanks, Scarlett. You’re way cooler than those assholes on your social media say in the comments.”
I choke out a laugh. “Thanks. And I have pretty thick skin, so I don’t even worry about what they call me.”
Her grin grows wider. “I like you. Gabe did good. I was totally prepared for you to be a stuck-up bitch, but you’re totally not. I’ll even let you do my share of the dishes,” she says with a giggle. She has charisma in spades.
“I heard that, little girl! You know better than to put your chores off on guests. Guess who’s doing all the dishes now?” Joanie says as she sneaks up behind us.
“Nooo. That’s not fair.”
“Welcome to being fourteen,” her grandmother says in a singsong tone. “Life isn’t fair.”
Thirty-Two
Legend
Scarlett and Melanie have their heads together, as thick as thieves near the food.
I’m glad that Q’s family is welcoming her with open arms. Part of me worried that Joanie and the girls would be standoffish because of who Scarlett is, but Scarlett broke the ice right at the front door by offering to do dishes.
Oddly, she fits perfectly into all my worlds. Who the hell would have guessed that would happen? Not me, but she’s the best damn gift I’ve ever been given. Seeing her laughing and smiling with the people I love makes me fall even harder for her.
Once we get through this shit with Moses and the fight, Scarlett and I are going to have a serious discussion about our future. I already know I’m not going back to the service station. I don’t want to live that far away from her. Shit, I don’t want to live anywhere but right in the same damn place as her.
I’ve got it bad. She’s it. The one. If I had the money to buy her the ring she deserves, I’d go get it tomorrow and put it on her finger. I want her and the whole world to know that she belongs to me, and I’m never letting her go.
But, first, I have to survive this fight.
My training is all on schedule. Jeb is a master of all aspects of MMA, but he’s also a drill sergeant. I can barely lift my arms or climb stairs when I leave the gym, but it’s all worth it. Every area I didn’t have formal training in before has been shored up to the point where I’m confident about attacking with any of the skills in my arsenal. I can stand and bang, take him down, clinch, grapple, whatever.
We know Bodhi will be trying to take my head off to end the fight with a knockout, but I won’t go out that way. I’m quicker on my feet than he is, and my footwork and head movement are top notch. If I’d had this level of training back in the day, there’s no way in hell I wouldn’t be a pro fighter on the biggest stages in the world right now.
But then you wouldn’t have met Scarlett. It’s the one thing that takes away any chance of regret.
She’s . . . everything.
“You gonna just stand there and stare at her, or you gonna take some food and eat?” Big Mike asks from the grill next to me.
I jerk my head to the side and catch his narrowed eyes. “Sorry. Can’t help it. Staring at her is my favorite thing these days.”
The older man’s chest bounces beneath his you can call me big daddy apron. “Damn, kid. Not even trying to be subtle about it, are you? No playing hard to get?”
I shake my head. “Nope. No games. Not with her. Just straight shootin’.”
Bump waves Scarlett over to his chosen seat at the picnic table in the backyard, and she smiles and winks at him.
“I guess that’s probably smart. Any games she’d play would be way out of your league anyway.”
I cut my gaze to Mike’s face, wondering what the hell he’s getting at here. “If you got something to say about Scarlett, you might as well get it out, old man.”
Mike flips a brat with his grill tongs. “Not really my business—”
“But you brought it up, so you’ve clearly got something on your mind. Might as well say it.”
“Bump’s getting pretty attached to her. You think that’s smart?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Scarlett sits down across from Bump and playfully slaps at his fingers when he pretends to steal fruit off her plate. He throws his head back and laughs. He deserves someone good like her in his life.
“Why wouldn’t it be? He’s my family, and if all goes according to plan, she will be too before long.”
The tongs smack against the grate, catching my attention. I glance back to Mike and take in the look of shock on his face.
“Seriously? You’re in that deep here?”
I nod slowly. “She’s it, man. I know you’ve got your reservations, but Scarlett is good people. The best.”
“She comes from a totally different world, son. That kind of barrier is hard to navigate, even for someone as smart as yourself.”
I’ve always loved it when Big Mike calls me son. It makes me feel wanted. Like I belong. The Quinterro family didn’t just save Bump’s life; they saved mine too. Without this family, I don’t know where I’d be today.
Because of the bond we share, I don’t take offense to Mike’s questions. He’s looking out for me the same as he would for one of his own kids, and that kind of concern isn’t something I take for granted. I know all too well what it’s like to have no one give a shit about me, and I’ll take this any day of the week.
“We understand each other,” I say, reaching out to stab a burger with my fork off the plate he’s loading up. “She’s from a different world, but that’s not who she is. She gives a damn about people. She loves Bump. She knows what it’s like to get the shaft from family. Apparently, that’s an experience not just reserved for people who come from shit like me.”
Big Mike’s bushy eyebrows knit together. “She got a crap mom?”
“Mom’s dead. But her dad, he’s a piece of fucking work.”
Big Mike’s expression turns thunderous. “I’ll never understand parents who don’t give a damn about their kids. They brought them into this fucking world. It’s their responsibility to do their duty. Too many people have forgotten what the fuck that means.”
It’s a lecture I’ve heard more than once, and something I believe in to my bones. My kids will never know anything except how much I fucking love them, and how goddamn grateful I am that they’re mine.
“Scarlett’s cut from the same cloth as me when it comes to that, old man. She’ll be fierce as fuck as a mother. I can only imagine what she’d do if someone riled her up.”
A smile crosses Mike’s face. “Good. That’s what you need. Someone willing to go to bat for you and yours when it matters. If that’s what you’re getting from her, then you’ve got my wholehearted approval, son. Not that you need it, but you got it all the same.”
Warmth fills my chest. “Thank you. Means a lot to me.”
“Now, go take these burgers over to the table. We’ve got more if anyone’s still hungry.”
I take the plate, but Mike holds out the tongs to stop me.
“I know Mel talked to you about her bully problem. Thank you for giving her a pep talk. That girl is going to set the world on fire one of these days, if some stupid boy doesn’t get in the way.”
I give him a chi
n lift. “Anytime. That’s what family does.”
“Damn right. Now, go eat, Gabe. No letting these burgers and brats go to waste. Joanie’ll kick my ass.”
Thirty-Three
Scarlett
I’ve never been so full in my entire life, but I don’t regret a single bite. Joanie and Mike laid out an amazing spread, and every bit of it was delicious.
True to my word, I volunteered for dish duty, but Joanie tried to turn me down in favor of making Melanie do them. However, I persisted, and now I find myself elbow deep in a sink of suds while I hear gasps and cheers coming from the backyard over whatever is happening with the football game. Since my appreciation of the game starts and ends with the fact that the players are wearing tight pants, I’m not too worried about missing anything.
Footsteps alert me to the fact that someone is heading into the kitchen. When I glance over my shoulder, I expect to see Joanie coming in with another tray of dishes, trying to shoo me out of the way, but it’s not.
It’s Q, and his expression is more serious than I’d expect to see at a casual Sunday cookout. I gesture to the plate in his hand with my elbow.
“You can set it on the counter. I’ll wash it for you.”
He comes toward me slowly. “What are you trying to prove here? You’re Scarlett Priest, Manhattan socialite, not some chick who washes dishes for a Puerto Rican family you barely know.”
“Still not my biggest fan, huh? Despite what you assume, I don’t think I’m better than you or your family. And washing dishes is my way of thanking your parents for inviting me into their home and treating me with such gracious hospitality.” My tone thankfully remains unaffected, and I’m proud of that.
“You sound like you really believe that.” Instead of sounding like a dick, Q’s statement comes out confused.
I pull my hands out of the soapy water, wipe them on a dish towel, and turn around to face him. “Simple explanation for that—because it’s the truth.”
