“Well, listen, if it’s too soon for your bo—” Dammit, I almost slipped again. “The guy you’re dating to meet your family, you can introduce me as a friend.”
“Are you kidding? And miss the chance to introduce a hot, sweet, successful business owner as my boyfriend? My mom is going to weep with joy that I finally met someone worth bringing home.”
I don’t miss his own use of the b-word, my smile growing wider.
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
Watson
Apparently, I have a boyfriend. The fact that I managed to say it so casually and not squeal like a dork and bounce in my seat is a true show of restraint.
The two-hour drive flies by. It’s not until we pull up in front of the small house I grew up in, the driveaway already full of cars, that it hits me that I’m bringing someone home for the first time. Like I told Ev, I’ve considered it with a few boyfriends, but the relationships always seemed to fizzle before I ever got the chance.
“Are you ready for this?” I ask, anxiously.
“More than ready,” he assures me, pressing a kiss to my cheek and reaching into the back seat to grab the bottle of wine and pumpkin pie I have back there.
We walk hand in hand up to the front door, a mixture of trepidation and giddiness warring inside me. I’ve always had this silly romantic idea that one day I’d bring a man here to my childhood home and introduce him to my big, loud, non-traditional family, and he would be the man I’d spend the rest of my life with.
I glance over at Ev, who’s looking at me with anticipation, waiting for me to open the front door. Ev, who’s gorgeous and thoughtful, who’s an amazing father, somehow enjoys my sense of humor, and is the most passionate man I’ve ever met. Fucking hell, it is so me to go and start falling in love with a man who is never going to stay.
“Everything okay?” he checks, squeezing my hand and looking at me with concern.
“Great,” I lie, swallowing down the chaotic feelings raging inside me, and open the front door. “The favorite child has arrived,” I announce loudly as we step inside.
We both remove our shoes, and I lead him through the house toward the cacophony of voices coming from the living room. The house smells like stuffing and cranberry sauce. The warm feeling of home wraps around me, somehow made more intense by Everett’s hand in mine. My stupid, sappy heart is enjoying having him here entirely too much.
“Watty,” my foster sister, Kaitlyn, greets excitedly as soon as we step into the living room.
“Hey, Kait,” I drop Ev’s hand and open my arms for a hug. Before I have a chance to introduce him, I’m swept up in a wave of hugs, kisses, backslaps, and comments about my supremely stylish bowtie choice for the day.
“And who do we have here?” my mom asks, noticing Ev, hanging back to avoid the fray of greetings.
“Mom, Dad, everyone, this is my boyfriend, Everett.” I wiggle out of the mass of bodies to stand next to him. “Ev, this is my mom and dad, my foster sisters Kaitlyn and Rava, my foster sibling Sam, and my foster brothers Calvin, Nick, and Anthony.” I point at each person as I name them.
“And there will be a test later,” my dad warns with mock-seriousness.
“I’ll do my best to remember all of that,” he promises.
“Oh, I’ll take those,” my mom says, noticing the bag in Ev’s hand that contains the pie and wine. “Watson, why don’t you come help me for a second.”
I roll my eyes in Ev’s direction, and he smiles. “Are you okay for a couple of minutes?” I check with him.
“I’ll be fine, go ahead.”
I follow my mom into the kitchen, bracing for an interrogation. I love the woman, but you’d think with six other children to worry about, she’d have less time to focus on my love life.
“It must be serious if you brought him for Thanksgiving. Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone?” my mom says casually as soon as we step into the kitchen.
“It’s not serious,” I answer. “We’ve only been on two dates.” Two incredible, perfect, swoon worthy dates, I add silently. “I just didn’t want him to be all alone on a holiday.”
“That’s very sweet of you. You’ve always had a big heart.” She gives me a kiss on the cheek, leaving me sticky with lipstick.
“Gross, Mom,” I complain with a laugh, grabbing a rag to wipe my face clean.
“I’m your mother; it’s my prerogative to embarrass you.”
“Lucky me,” I grumble. She uses her thumb to wipe my cheek and then turns to put the pie into the fridge while I uncork the wine and pour myself a glass.
“Will it be more embarrassing if I ask you all of my prying questions about your new boyfriend? Or should I ask him?” she checks with a conspiratorial smile.
“Please ask me,” I say, and her smile widens.
“Where would the fun be in that?” she takes the bottle of wine from me and pours two glasses. “Everett,” she calls loudly, hurrying out of the kitchen with the drinks before I can stop her. “I’m dying to get to know you better. You know, our Watson never brings men home; you must be very special.”
“Kill me now,” I mutter to myself, taking a healthy gulp of wine and going after her.
Ev gets the full treatment—questions from my mom, embarrassing childhood stories from my siblings, requests for DIY advice as soon as my dad learns he’s in construction.
“Regretting saying yes yet?” I ask in a whisper when we all sit down for dinner.
“Are you kidding? This is fantastic. When I was growing up, I always wished I had a big family. Holidays were so boring with just me and my parents. I always wished Livi had some siblings for that very reason.”
My heart stutters to a stop and then starts beating again double time. “You…” I clear my throat. “You want more kids?”
“In the right circumstances, yeah, I could see maybe adopting or something.” His eyes flicker to mine, and I can see the hope and uncertainty shining in them. “What about you?”
“Yeah,” I answer as casually as I can manage. “I want kids.”
“Wats, pass the mashed potatoes,” Sam calls from the end of the table.
“It’s the kind with the bits of skin in it—you hate those,” I remind them, and they wrinkle their nose.
“I made a special one without any skins just for you,” my mom says, grabbing a much smaller bowl of mashed potatoes and passing it to Sam.
“You’re the best, Mom,” Sam says, and she lights up. When I was younger and she told me for the first time about how she always dreamed of having a ton of kids, I felt so sad for her that she couldn’t have more the usual way. But eventually I realized that just because you can’t birth a bunch of kids, doesn’t mean you can’t have a huge, loving family.
After dinner, we all help to clean up, and then everyone starts urging me toward the dusty old piano that is only ever touched during the holidays when I’m here.
“Come on, guys,” I complain.
“It’s a tradition,” Rava insists, and I sigh.
Ev’s eyebrows go up, his eyes lighting with interest. “You play piano?”