“You made it,” he said, pulling Justin into a hug.
“Yeah, I wasn’t sure I’d get away, but we wrapped things up pretty quick.”
“Good.” He clapped his son on the back and took the six-pack from him. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”
“Quieter and less annoying,” Chloé chimed in. “But not the same.”
“Whatever.” Justin chuckled. “You just want more pasta for yourself.”
“Well, yeah.” She headed into the kitchen and slid the wine across the counter toward their père, who picked it up and frowned at the label.
“Mon Dieu. This was the best they had?” He glanced over at Justin, who shrugged.
“At the grocery store? Oui. Don’t be such a snob.”
“Yeah, Jules.” Dad walked over and took the bottle with a flirty wink. “Don’t be such a snob. This is a homemade meal with our children. I think it’s very nice that Justin bought a— Rosé? Who drinks rosé with spaghetti? Have I taught you nothing?”
“You taught me everything about alcohol. That was all they had.”
Dad looked at it again and shrugged. “Okay then, rosé it is.” He got out the corkscrew and then headed to the cabinet where they kept the wine glasses. “Sure you don’t want a glass, Jules?”
“Positive, princesse.” Père’s jade-colored eyes twinkled at his younger husband. “I’ll get a few of bottles of water out of the fridge for the rest of us. You can enjoy that all on your own.”
“Snob,” Papa said, but pressed a kiss to Père’s temple to soften the blow. “You stay put. I’ll grab the water.”
He pulled a beer out of the pack and tossed it to Justin, before heading to the fridge to get the waters.
“All right, you two.” Dad looked at Chloé and Justin and crooked a finger. “Aprons are there, flour is in the cupboard—you know the drill.”
They sure did. It was pasta-making time, and they’d been doing this long enough that they had it down to a fine art.
Justin measured, mixed, and kneaded the dough, and Chloé rolled it out and cut it. It was like a well-tuned conveyor belt, one that came with bickering siblings, bad singing, and even worse, dancing on occasion.
She was a horrible dancer. Two left feet. It didn’t matter how many times her fathers tried to teach her to waltz to Old Blue Eyes—nothing was going to help her awkward moves.
That’s why she always asked before she went on dates whether there would be—
“Merde.”
When all four men in the kitchen stopped what they were doing to look her way, she realized she’d said that out loud.
“Are you okay?” Justin moved to her side and looked down at her hands, and she realized he thought she’d cut herself.
“Yeah, sorry. I’m fine. I was just thinking about something and got distracted.”
How could she have forgotten to ask whether this date with Ethan and Zayne was just dinner? If this was some fancy thing then maybe dancing would be expected, and that would be a nightmare.
“Something?” Justin said under his breath. “Or someone?”
Chloé narrowed her eyes, and he shook his head.
“I told you to be careful about that, and look at you. Almost cutting a finger off.”
“I didn’t almost cut my finger off,” she whispered back. “And stop being such a know-it-all.”
“Can’t help it if I’m always right.”
“What are you two whispering about over there?”
Dad’s voice had Chloé whirling around to see him perched on their papa’s lap.
“Nothing—”
“Chloé’s got a new boyfriend.”
She gasped, her jaw almost hitting the floor, then turned and punched Justin in the arm—hard. “Traitor.”
“Damn, girl.” He rubbed at his bicep, but the mischievous light in his eyes told her he didn’t regret his betrayal one little bit.
“Boyfriend?”
At Papa’s serious tone, she mouthed, I hate you, then turned to face the three pairs of eyes now locked on her.
She wasn’t sure what expression was worse in that moment—the disbelief on her père’s face, the displeasure on her papa’s, or the hurt in the wide eyes staring at her over a glass of rosé.
She was going to kill Justin. If, of course, she lived through this conversation.
“Is there something you’re not telling us, mon ange?”
So much. So very, very much.
“Non, papounet. I just—” Damn Justin. “I… Okay, oui. I’ve been seeing someone.”
A couple of someones, but one thing at a time.
“I see.” Papa’s clipped answer didn’t bode all that well for her survival, but if she was going to die, she might as well continue to dig her grave.
“I didn’t tell you all because I wanted to—”
“Sneak around behind our backs?”
Again, that tone was not a good one.
“No, Papa.” She wiped her flour-covered hands on her apron and shot another glare at her brother for good measure. “I just wanted to get to know them—him—before I said anything.”
Jesus, she needed to pull her shit together. Here her fathers were already freaking out over a possible boyfriend. Two would likely make their heads explode.
“You’re in love…” Her dad’s voice was quiet, and the wistful sadness was like an arrow to the heart. She’d hurt him. He was upset that she hadn’t shared this with him. But he didn’t understand. It wasn’t like that.
“I’m not in love.” No way. “I’m just—”
“Falling…” A sad little smile accompanied his reply this time. “I can see it now. The lovely little glow to your cheeks.”
“I think that might be your cheeks. From the, uh, rosé.”
“What’s his name?” Her attention shifted past her dad’s head to eyes the same color as hers. They were locked in on her and accompanied by a frown that made her question her sanity.
Maybe she should just give it up now. Confess the truth. Put it all out on the table.
“Chloé.”
Or maybe not.
“I asked you a question.”
She blinked her papa back into view. “Ethan. His name is Ethan.” And Zayne, she thought, but decided to just stick with alphabetical order.
“And where did you meet this Ethan boy?”
Boy? Oh God, just kill me now.
“JULIEN. He had a meal there.” She tried for a smile in her père’s direction. “Another pleased customer.”
Justin scoffed behind her. “I bet.”
“Shut up,” she said.
“Don’t you get mad at your brother,” Dad said, putting his glass of wine on the counter. “He was just looking out for you.”
“He is being a busybody.”
“Well, yes, but he’s also doing it because he cares, I’m sure.”
Chloé rolled her eyes.
“Which is a lot more than we can say for you right now,” Papa added. “Is this where you’ve been spending all your time lately? Your nights?”