Ollie saunters over, going around me and taking up residence right behind me. I feel his hand snake around my waist as he lines himself up with my back. I notice a woman in the doorway, and when she sees us, her eyebrows pinch as her mouth slowly opens. No words come out before she closes them again, her head tilting to the side.
She’s pretty, with medium brown hair that has hints of red and gold as the light glints off of it. She has it pulled back in a swooping low side bun and a few tendrils escape, framing her pretty face. She’s not wearing a ton of makeup, but I can see hints of sooty lashes and rosy cheeks. She is long and lean, taller than my five-foot-six-inch frame, but she’s also wearing heels. She takes one step in our direction.
“Mom.” Her heads snaps to the right. “Dads.” Milo nods at the three men I haven’t even glanced at yet. He passes them and heads right for his mother. Her face morphs the seconds she sees him. The confusion melts away to a beautiful smile that reaches all the way to her pretty light blue eyes.
“Milo,” she responds with an unabashed joy as he makes his way over and wraps her in a tight hug. He’s a few inches taller than she, so not by much, but he dwarfs her in size. When he pulls back, she doesn’t let go. Watching him from arm’s length, she grins at him.
I glance away from them long enough to see the three men openly staring at me. It takes everything in me not to slide behind Ares’s wide back and pull Dante with me. Two of the men are big—not Ares big, but close. The third man is shorter, maybe an inch or so shorter than Milo. I know immediately which one is Milo’s biological father. It’s the eyes—he has the same navy-blue eyes as his son.
Is that hard on them, or does it even bother them? I glance at him now. He’s in jeans and a fitted, button-down shirt, just like Milo’s other dads. All of them look fit, and I would never guess that any of them were old enough to have a child Milo’s age.
I inch my hand over to Dante’s chest, barring it across him like I’m somehow protecting him, but I don’t sense any threat. I think I’m just really nervous. The man furthest to the left tilts his head, his eyes watching my every move. “Milo, is there something you want to tell us?”
I hear a throat clearing as Milo turns to face our group, an easy smile on his face as he raises his hand, gesturing over to us. My fingers itch to pull him over. I feel beads of sweat dotting my upper lip. When did it get so hot? Is Ollie doing this to me?
“Laura, I’d like you to meet my parents. Linda,” he wraps his arm around his mom’s tiny waist, “Matt, Phil, and Stephen.” He points to Matt first, the one with the same striking eye color as Milo. Phil turns to look at Milo, then back at me. Stephen lifts his fingers up to rub the stubble on his jaw.
“No shit,” Matt curses, his eyes going between me and back to Milo at a rapid pace. Linda reaches around Milo and swats his arm, and it looks to be more of a habit than an actual reprimand.
She takes a step forward, her eyes only on me. “You’re…” She clears her throat and tries again, “Are you?” Her shoulders fall the tiniest bit, and she looks over at Milo, a helpless little expression on her face.
“Yeah, she’s ours,” Milo confirms, releasing his mom and heading over to us. Ares takes a step away, making room for Milo at my side as I make a distressed noise—totally unintentional, but there all the same. So, instead, he moves behind me, and Ollie scoots over so I’m more in the middle of them.
If they think my behavior is strange, no one acknowledges it. Phil goes over to Linda’s other side, not quite touching, but close enough too. Stephen just grins, he tries to hide it behind a big hand, but gives up rather quickly. “Laura, huh? When did you find this rag-tag group?” Matt’s eyes twinkle, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was Ollie’s dad.
Trying to find my voice, I croak, “A few weeks ago.”
I hear a gasp. “Milo Andrews,” Linda says in that mom voice every kid knows. His back goes rigid.
“Oh, boy.” Phil rolls his eyes. “You’ve done it now,” he mutters, bracing his arms over his chest.
“I cannot believe you hid this from me!” Linda’s voice goes from angry to weepy in a matter of seconds. I can’t see any tears, but the emotion is clear in her tone.
“Mom,” Milo’s voice is whinier than I’ve ever heard it, “it’s not like that. I didn’t want to keep it from you.” He looks behind me at Ares, his nostrils flaring as he widens his eyes in an are-you-going-to-help-me-out-at-all expression.
“It was my fault.” I raise my hand like I’m volunteering for the punishment. Milo snaps his neck to look at me. “I… you see, I didn’t know about…” I circle my finger around our group, stuttering.
Linda wrings her hands together. There’s no anger on her face, but her lips are twisted down. Matt reaches over and drops a hand on her shoulder. Phil steps closer so his arm brushes hers, and the next thing I know, she bursts into tears. I jump back, my mouth falling open as I stare at her. Matt pulls her in, putting her head on his shoulder as Phil rubs her back and shoulders, making soft reassuring sounds.
Stephen rolls his eyes on a sigh, and Linda reaches up and swats him again, still not looking up from Matt’s chest. He chuckles. Within a few seconds, Phil pats her back, sorry he mouths to us with a wry grin.
Milo starts to squirm next to me, and I can tell he’s struggling. Only a few seconds more and Linda is straightening her back, wiping her cheeks with a delicate finger under each eye. Her cheeks are flushed, but not nearly as bad as I look when I cry. She even cries prettily. Matt looks down at her and nods like he’s proud. He kisses the top of her head in a gentle gesture and looks over at us.
Linda waves her hand, her voice still a little breathy as she says, “That was… I’m so sorry.” Her nose crinkles up in embarrassment.
“That’s okay.” I find myself saying to ease her obvious discomfort.
Linda stomps one heeled foot and widens her arms before rushing over to our group. I back up, and my body slams into Ollie and Milo behind me. I hear a sudden chuckle as her arms wrap around whoever she can reach, and she’s crying again.
I stand there, frozen, as she shakes against me, her face buried in my hair. My eyes must be big as saucers as they meet the men in front of me. Phil mouths sorry again, actually rolling his eyes this time, while Matt lifts his hands, pantomiming an embrace. He’s saying that I should hug her? I pull one arm free and wrap it under her arm, around her back. I’m still stiff, but I give all the effort I can into hugging a complete stranger. Stephen grins and gives me two thumbs up.
“Laura, I’m so sorry. I’m not usually a basket case.” Linda tells me for the third time.
“It’s okay,” I reply, which is the same thing I’ve repeated every time she’s told me. They seat her and me at the island, her with a cup of coffee Matt made her, and me with a glass of water. Milo is to my left chatting like nothing strange just happened a few minutes ago. Phil seems to be in deep conversation with Dante, while Ares is again working on his laptop. He’s on the opposite side of the counter, and his eyes dart up to me occasionally.
I fiddle with the glass in my hands, spinning it a little just to have something to do. I’m not good at the small talk stuff, I never really had to practice it much. As a waitress, there are only a few things people want to know from me: what food is good, where the bathroom is, and if I can bring them more ranch. This is different, I don’t know where to start.