“Yeah, yeah, let’s shit on Ty all night long.”
Remy punches Ty in the shoulder, effectively shutting him up and giving me a chance to respond.
“Thanks. It’s really nice to meet all of you, too. And I don’t blame you for the confusion…it was confusing.”
Ha-ha-ha. God. Someone help me.
“Well,” Winnie replies, looking around the room and meeting everyone’s eyes in a way I can tell means something. “We’ll get the details later. For now, I want to say welcome to the family. And I’m sure,” she adds, eyeing everyone closely again, “everyone at this table feels the same way.”
“Of course, of course,” Uncle Brad says with a nod and a raise of his glass. “Welcome to the family, Daisy!”
The whole room joins in, and their unexpected kindness causes my heart to flip-flop in my chest.
Flynn’s hand moves to my thigh underneath the table to give it a squeeze, and when I meet his gaze, he offers a reassuring smile.
What in the world have I gotten myself into?
Flynn
Daisy was silent the entire ride home from my sister’s house and locked herself in the bathroom as soon as we got back to “get ready for bed.” It’s pretty obvious that she feels I blindsided her by taking her to my family dinner without warning, but while it might seem a bit cruel to an outsider, I still think I did the right thing.
Daisy has shown time and time again that once she gets locked inside her head, it’s nearly impossible to get her out. Her panic takes her in an endless circle of indecision, and I didn’t have the time to both tell her the news of tonight’s family dinner and fuck the anxiety out of her before we got to my sister’s. We were running late as it was.
Still, I’m aware I’m going to have to deal with the repercussions of my decisions, and I’m ready for it.
I open the group text message with my siblings to kill a little time while I wait for Daisy to get ready to face me, and fucking hell, it’s busy. If I didn’t have it on Do Not Disturb, my phone would be on its way to being diagnosed epileptic.
Remy: We’re going to fucking discuss this later, Flynn Winslow. Seems to me now that our lunch conversation should have been expanded a little bit.
Jude: Dude, I cannot believe you’re married before me, you fucker. I didn’t even know we were racing, or I would have tried harder.
Winnie: How did you meet? What was your first date like? Was it love at first sight?
Ty: Does no one even care that Flynn fucking scooped a woman right out from under my nose?
Remy: She was never really with you. He was married to her before family dinner, you dumbass. Plus, the bastard even told me he was married at lunch last week.
Winnie: WHAT? YOU KNEW?
Remy: Relax. I only sort of knew. I didn’t exactly believe him.
Jude: You didn’t believe Flynn, dude? He’s the only one of us who doesn’t lie.
Remy: I remember that now. Obviously.
Ty: She really looks like a woman who’d be my type, though. Like, I feel as if I know her.
Jude: DUDE. Shut up. This really isn’t about you.
Winnie: Seriously, Ty. I want answers from Flynn. Not to hear you whine.
Ty: Wow. Brutal, sis. Brutal.
The door to the bathroom finally cracks open, and I immediately click the button to lock my screen and set my phone down on the kitchen counter.
She’s walking on eggshells, but not because she’s afraid she’s going to upset me. No. She’s a woman at the very end of her rope, trying not to explode all over everything.
As far as I’m concerned, though, the sooner the big boom happens, the sooner I can start putting the pieces back together.
“Go ahead,” I prompt. “Let it rip. I know you want to.”
“God, Flynn!” She tosses up her hands and stomps the rest of the way into the kitchen. “This is just a lot, you know? First, I arrive after traveling across the country a week after giving my boss a practical ultimatum, almost die on the luggage carousel, and then, I find out there’s only one bedroom! And after that, we go straight to your sister’s house without any warning from you, and everyone thinks I’m there with your brother because you left me to fend for myself! And everyone was staring at me and looking for answers that I don’t have to give them! Because this marriage is a pact marriage, and I don’t actually know all that much about you!”
I nod, and she takes a deep breath, gearing up to go again.
“And your sister! She’s so freaking nice and kind, and after she knew that I was with you and not your brother Ty, she was so welcoming and interested in me and jumping to include me. I’m having lunch! With her and Sophie! Next week! Did you know that?”
I shake my head because, no, I didn’t know that.
“I am! Because they were so sweet and I couldn’t say no, and so now I’m having lunches with your sister like it’s a thing! Like we’re a real thing! Oh! And Sophie! She was so excited that she asked me to be a bridesmaid in her and your brother’s wedding! A bridesmaid, Flynn, in your brother’s freaking wedding!”
I raise my eyebrows.
“And I wasn’t prepared for any of it! Because you didn’t think it was important to tell me that we were going to your family dinner tonight! I don’t know what to do with that.” She inhales a deep breath, and I’m not surprised when she keeps going. “I mean, we probably should’ve at least worn our damn wedding rings! Your sister kept asking me, and I had to come up with a random excuse about them being fitted at the jeweler! When she asked me which jeweler, I pretended to have a coughing attack and told her I have a history of asthma—which I don’t! But I do have a growing web of lies with your family!”
“What would be different if you’d known ahead of time?” I interject, and her chin jerks back.
“What?”
“Would you not be going to lunch with Winnie and Sophie?”
Her eyes narrow.
“Or Sophie and Jude’s wedding? Would you have said no to being in it if you’d prepared ahead of time?”
“No, Flynn, that would be rude. But that’s not the point—”
“It is the point, Dais. None of the results would have changed, but the amount of stress you’d have felt leading up to it would have been exponentially higher. You have a tendency to freak out a little.”
“I don’t freak out that much.”
“Daisy.”
She huffs. “Okay. So, I freak out. But the decision to freak out or not should be mine and mine alone. I’m Julia Roberts, dammit, and I say who, I say when, I say how much!”
I stalk toward her with quick, deliberate strides, and she tilts her chin back dramatically to keep her eyes on me during my approach.
Her breathing quickens as I put my hands to her jaw and tip her head back even more, running the pad of my thumb over her plump pink bottom lip.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“I am? You are?”
I nod. “Even though I was trying to protect you from feeling anxiety I didn’t think you should have to feel, I should’ve given you a heads-up.”
“Okay,” she breathes out through a whisper.
“Okay, you accept my apology?”
“Yes, I accept.”