I’d do anything for this woman to be mine, but I was too chickenshit to take my shot.
“A little,” she replies, fidgeting with a charm on her bracelet.
“How strong will the interrogation be?”
“My sister is nice but can be overprotective.” She unbuckles her seat belt. “Now’s your chance to back out. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
“No backing out, babe. I’m here for as long as you need me.”
Her shoulders relax. “You’re too good to me.”
No, you’re too good for me.
I reach over my console and capture her hand in mine, running my finger along her soft skin. “We got this, babe. We’ve made a badass team for years. It was about time we stepped our game up to see what else we could do.”
She repeatedly nods as if my pep talk is convincing her. “You’re right. We got this.”
I kiss the top of her hand before releasing her and cut the engine.
Grace’s sister’s neighborhood is exactly what I expected. A gated entrance; a large, grassy lawn, manicured to perfection; and a home that could be featured in a magazine.
It’s a far cry from where I came from.
I wasn’t the rich kid in school.
I wasn’t even the middle-class kid.
I was the dirt-poor boy whose hand-me-downs stank of cigarette smoke and whose father showed up to one of my football games, drunk off his ass, demanding I give him money for all the shit he’s done for me. Rich kids mocked me until they realized I’d beat their asses. After a few punches to their faces, the jerks’ shit-talking lessened. That didn’t mean they still didn’t look down on me.
Facial expressions always speak louder than words.
Grace adjusts her dress, inhales a steady breath, and steps out of the car. I do the same and am by her side. The scent of fresh-cut grass follows us up the driveway to the bright red front door surrounded by potted plants.
Without bothering to knock, Grace walks us in.
“Hello,” she calls out while entering the expansive entryway.
There’s shiplap—shiplap everywhere.
I only know what damn shiplap is because Grace and Georgia used to force me to watch some HGTV shit, and every damn homeowner wanted their walls covered in the shit.
Apparently, Grace’s sister fits that bill as well.
“In the kitchen!” someone out of view yells.
My attention shifts to the stairs as Raven, Grace’s niece, comes barreling down the stairs.
“Aunt Grace!” she yells, stomping down each step. “You brought Finn! He’s my friend!”
Raven tags along with Grace sometimes, especially when Noah is involved. They’ve become good friends, and it gives Noah someone to play with. During our last trip to a ski lodge for Noah’s birthday, she told me she asks her parents for a little brother or sister daily. I’m sure having a cousin will help too.
I grin. “I sure am.”
I’m good with kids—at least, that’s what people tell me. Hell, half the time, I’d rather sit and chat with a kiddo than an adult.
Raven’s red-hued pigtails bounce in the air as she hops on her feet. “Maybe we can play games later?”
“Maybe.” Grace plays with her braid, twirling it around her fingers.
Grace squeezes Raven’s shoulder. “Let’s see what your mom is up to.”
“Oh, she’s just making dinner,” Raven says, throwing her hand up as if it were no big deal while we meander down a hallway. “She’s making me dino nuggets, though, because it’s what I want.”
Grace laughs. “You’re going to end up turning into a dino nugget.”
“Hey now,” I say, winking at Raven. “Dino nuggets are pretty darn good.”
She squeals, clapping her hands, her walk turning into a skip. “See, Mommy! Finn loves dino nuggets too!”
Reaching the kitchen, we stop. The smell of garlic smacks me in the face as I do a quick once-over of my surroundings. It’s a big-ass kitchen with more shiplap, stainless steel appliances, and baby-blue cabinets. It’s a kitchen you’d normally find in a farmhouse, not a home like this.
“Hey, guys!”
My gaze shifts to the island, where a spitting image of Grace stands—only taller and with more blond in her hair. She smiles at us while slicing a knife through a tomato on the cutting board.
Grace steps to my side, somewhat in front of me as if she were my bodyguard. “Finn, this is my sister, Faith.”
With the knife still in her hand, Faith waves at me, tomato juice slipping onto the counter. “Hi, Finn.” She shoots a mischievous look to Grace. “We’ve heard so much about you. You sounded too good to be true, so Brian and I had a bet that you weren’t real.”
“Really?” Grace grumbles with a scowl.
“He’s real, Mommy!” Raven jumps up and down and points at me. “He buys me ice cream too!”
“Yes, she always raves about the ice cream you get her,” a guy says, walking into the kitchen, holding a bottle of wine. “Can I get you something to drink, Finn? A juice box for you, Grace?”
Grace rolls her eyes. “You should really go on the road since your jokes are so original. I’m sure no pregnant girl has heard that one before.” She motions toward the guy. “This is my brother-in-law, Brian.”
The guy dramatically bows. “Thank you. I always knew you appreciated my jokes.”
I expected something different—snobbery or an upturned nose—but these people seem as laid-back as our friends.
Sure, the size of their home, the large rock on Faith’s finger, and the expensive bottle of wine Brian is opening scream money, but their personalities scream cool.
“Beer?” Brian asks. “Jack and Diet? We have a full bar, so anything you want, I can grab you.”
“I’ll have a water.” I don’t want Grace to feel like the odd one out of drinking.
“I’ll take one of those juice boxes …” Grace pauses. “Actually, why don’t you grab the juicer and make me some fresh OJ, Brian?”
“Why don’t you drink Raven’s sugar-free shit?” He smirks.
“Daddy said a bad word!” Raven says with a scowl.
“Finn, I hope eggplant parmigiana is okay with you,” Faith says. “Meat makes Grace sick, so we’re trying an alternative.”
Grace pulls out a stool under the island, and I grab her hand, helping her jump up onto it.
Gripping the back of the stool, I reply, “That’s fine with me.”
And now, we get ready for our baby daddy game to start.
Chapter Eleven
Grace
“I like him,” Faith says when we’re alone. “Like, really like him and could totally smack you for not getting knocked up by him.” She shoves my shoulder. “I swear, for someone who’s so damn smart, you fail in the dating department.”
We’re outside on the patio after dinner. We ate outside, and the fresh air helped calm my nerves. No one brought up the game Finn and I are playing. Most likely because Raven was with us, and that girl is the definition of the game Telephone. Never say anything in front of her you don’t want our entire family to find out about.