“I know you have to work, but do you think we can keep having dinner together every night as a family, even if it’s late?”
“Sure bud,” Gareth answers gruffly, and I tighten my hand around his when his fingers squeeze mine.
“Cool.” He says softly before he tucks his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be back.” He turns and walks away and I watch him go then look up at Gareth.
“So—” I clear my throat. “—is it me, or did a lot just happen?”
“A lot just happened.”
I bite the inside of my cheek then shake my head, “I wonder how long they’ve known I’ve been sleeping over.”
“No idea. Also know it really doesn’t matter. I’m just happy they’re cool with you stayin’ the night.”
I drag in a deep breath. “I guess you’re right.”
“They both adore you.”
“I love them,” I admit.
“Only them?” he asks quietly as his eyes search mine.
I look around. “I’m not going to tell you that I love you the first time in the middle of the grocery store.”
“Why not? I don’t give a fuck where you tell me, just as long as you mean it when you say it. Besides I already know you love me,” he says smugly, letting my hand go to place his arm around my shoulders.
“What do you mean you know?”
“It’s written on your face every time you look at me,” he says, and I wonder if that’s true. Actually, I’m sure it is. I probably look like one of those emojis with the big heart eyes.
“Whatever. Let’s just focus on getting the stuff for dinner,” I mutter.
He brushes his lips across mine then leans back, grinning. “You’re even cute when you’re annoyed.”
“I’m not annoyed.”
“You are,” he returns, and I roll my eyes. “Are you happy though?”
At his quietly asked question, I rest my hand against his stomach, and tell him the truth. “I’m happier than I ever have been.”
“Then I’m doing my job,” he says, still talking gently. I don’t know how we got to this point, especially after the way things between us started out, but I’m glad we’re here now.
“You know, you’re very mushy for a guy who looks so gruff,” I say, and he laughs. “What? It’s true.”
“Babe, I’m not mushy.”
“You kinda are.”
“I’m not,” he denies.
“You really are,” I say just to tease, and he shakes his head then ignores me as I pick on him through the rest of the store.
“Aw, fuck,” Gareth mutters from the driver seat, and I look up from my Kindle, wondering what has him annoyed, and notice his eyes are on a bright blue Mustang parked next to my car in his driveway.
“Shit,” Mitchell growls from the back seat.
“Mom,” Max whispers, and my heart starts to pound when I see a petite woman with shoulder-length dark blond hair and alabaster skin get out of her car then slam the door with her slim, denim-covered hip. Her eyes lock with mine and narrow to slits through the windshield as she turns when we pull in to park. But even with the ugly look on her face, she looks like she belongs on the arm of a rock star… or a cool mechanic and tattoo artist.
“This is not fucking happening,” Gareth says on a low growl, sending a chill down my spine as he shuts down the engine. Then the back door opens, and Max runs around the hood to his mom. I hate her a little when she barely spares her son a glance, her attention now fully focused on Gareth. “Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, grasping my hand. “Baby.” I turn my head toward him. “It will be okay.”
Will it? This isn’t zip lining or the boys meeting my parents. This is Beth, the boys’ mom, his ex—a woman who he admitted messed him up—showing at his house looking beautiful and cool.
“Wait for me to come around to help you down,” he orders, and I nod, unhooking my belt feeling sick to my stomach. When he gets out and shuts the door, fingers wrap around my shoulder from the back seat, and I turn to look at Mitchell.
“I’ve got your back.” He gives my shoulder a squeeze then opens his door and hops out, slamming it closed before I can tell him he’s a really fricking great kid but that I’m an adult and will find a way to deal.
As soon as my door is open, Gareth reaches in, taking hold of my waist. I lean into him, placing my hands on his shoulders, and then let gravity work as I fall safely into his hold to my flat feet.
“That’s December, Dad’s girlfriend,” I hear Max say from behind the open door, and Gareth rumbles a quiet expletive as he hands me my purse then puts pressure on my hip in a silent demand to move so he can shut it.