“You did that,” I grumble.
“And then you hung out with me all day, played X-Box while we washed your clothes, and you pretended you weren’t procrastinating as your phone blew up.”
“I hate you.”
He chuckles. “And now you’re right here, still touching me, begging me to demand you stay.”
“I don’t want to go home,” I admit. “You’re right, I don’t want to go. Because when I do, I have to tell them where I was. My father will mentally rearrange his will. My stepmother will try to be my hip, cool girlfriend. Word will spread faster than bushfire in a drought-stricken country. Everyone will know my business, and then I’ll be made to feel guilty for something I don’t want to regret.”
Finally, he accepts my words as truth and plops a gentle kiss on my lips. “No matter what happens with them, you always have a home with me. You don’t need a trust fund, Maddi. You don’t need judgmental asswipes telling you to feel bad for something you shouldn’t have to feel bad for. So…” He chews on his bottom lip while he thinks. “Why not stay right here for the next couple hours? Enjoy dinner, and learn how we, the trailer trash, interact over the dinner table.”
“Don’t tell them I said that,” I plead. “Please don’t tell them that thing about trailer trash. I was only telling you what I’d heard.”
“It’s okay.” He crushes me against his chest for a long hug. Presses his lips to the crown of my head. Then he pulls away and leads me over the lawn of the yard at the top of the estate. “This will be like a cultural experience for you.” Now he’s teasing. “No cloth napkins. No heels. And people will probably talk with their mouths full.”
“Uncivilized.”
He bursts out with a loud laugh, leads us through the front door, and past crowds of kids. “These are all my cousins, but there are too many, so I’m not gonna tell you their names. You can learn them when it becomes relevant.”
“Er…” I clear my throat and wave to a little boy sucking on a pacifier. “Okay.”
He pulls me into the kitchen, and stops so we’re the main attraction, and dozens of grown adults stop speaking and turn to us.
I see Evie and Ben. Bean and Mac. Even Brooke, the sister that I held pre-conceived notions about. She sits beside a guy with an obvious fighter’s body – they’re easy to spot once you’ve hung around one for long enough – and the little girl. Alyssa. Kit sits toward the end of the table, and Bobby, beside her.
Kit smiles for us, and runs her gaze along the length of my body. Curiosity. Not judgment.
Finally, Bry pulls me close under his arm, and smacks an obnoxiously loud kiss on my temple. “Hey, trailer trash. We’re here.”
“Bryan!” My face burns fiery red as I elbow him so hard that I hurt myself, but I finally elicit a gasped – albeit, laughing – breath as he swings an arm down and grabs his ribs.
“Ouch!”
“Why would you do that? I begged you not to!”
“I didn’t do anything.” He laughs. “Come on in.”
He leads me around the long table filled to the brim with food. He passes a set of identical twin guys – not children, but men – and presses a kiss to Alyssa’s head as he moves behind her. He squeezes Brooke’s shoulder, and taps the back of the head belonging to the man sitting beside her. He kisses a tiny woman, and dodges a fist when Jack Reilly – his uncle – swings just for fun.
“Mom.” He stops in front of her as she stands, keeps my hand clasped tightly in his, and bends forward to press a kiss to her cheek. “Sorry we’re late. Maddi had an existential crisis in the driveway.”
“I hate you so much,” I grumble.
Kit only laughs. “It’s fine. We only just sat down. Take a seat and dig in.”
“Mrs. Kincaid.” My manners insist I step toward the woman that kind of terrifies me. I take her hand when she offers, and lean in – Awkward! So fucking awkward – and hug her. “Thank you for having me.”
“My name is Kit.” When I try to end my weird hug and pull away, she yanks me back in and changes it. From stiff, formal, and weird, to a real mom hug. She presses a kiss to my cheek and whispers, “Welcome.” Releasing me, she steps back but holds my hand. “Why don’t you sit with the real Mrs. Kincaid?”
“Hmm?” My eyes move to the older woman who sits on Bobby’s other side.
“Tell her your name, Maddi.” Kit sits so fast and clasps her hands. “Do it, I wanna see.”
“Uh…” I look into a pair of dark eyes, dark hair, beautiful, soft skin, and a kind smile.
This is her. This is the woman I was convinced was a horrible harlot with no morals.
She turns to me, stands when I say nothing. And when the whole room stops breathing and waits, she looks around in search of the punchline. “I don’t get it.”
“You didn’t tell her?” Bry asks.
Bobby shakes his head and grins like the Cheshire cat. “We voted on it, and decided we’d prefer to watch it live.”
“What is going on?” With a huff, the woman lifts her chin and stares straight into my eyes. “Hello, sweetheart. I don’t understand the undercurrents. But since every single person I’m related to is rude, I guess I’ll introduce myself. Nelly Kincaid. And you…” She smiles. “Seem to be very much attached to my grandson. He’s cute, ain’t he?”
“Um…” The pressure. The pressure! “Yes, ma’am. Hello. I’m Madilyn.”
“Finish it,” Evie coughs. “Say it all.”
Nelly watches me with curiosity burning in her eyes.
“Um…” Oh god. “Madilyn… Tosky. I heard you might have known my grandfather.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh shit.”
I slept in Bryan’s home last night. That’s two nights in a row. Same panties. Same clothes… well, except for the eight or so hours I wore nothing at all.
I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what the hell I’m thinking. I have no clue how the hell I ended up with a man I despised just two days ago. A man that I was willing and ready to fuck over however I could manage it.
Now it’s like I’m living in an alternate universe. My blood seems to pump differently, my brain works differently. My feelings have taken a full one-eighty, and now I feel myself wishing I was born into a different family.
Knowing that I answer to no one – well, except my father and grandfather – I wait at Bryan’s home until after breakfast, then, at just before nine, I race back to my house, get changed, whip my hair back into a neat bun, don a pair of heels, then I roar across town in my car and pull up at my office. I’m only fifteen minutes late, but I have a billion unread texts, more emails, and dozens of missed phone calls.
I essentially went missing on Saturday night and told no one where I was. Not my dad, not my stepmother, with her ‘Hey, girlfriend. I just wanted to check in on you’ texts. I ignored Jackson’s calls, I ignored Jenna’s. The only person I replied to was Chrissy, and that’s because she, like I, so rarely participates in the family bitching.