Chapter 26
Cole
DEER-IN-THE-HEADLIGHTS
“Those sneaky motherfuckers,” I grit, grinding my jaw back and forth.
Ariana laughs, dry and humorless. “Who? Your parents or mine?”
“Both.”
I cut the engine but neither of us seems eager to move.
“You don’t think there’s a priest in there too, do you?”
My face twists. “Priest?”
She blows out a breath, something between a gasp and a laugh. “Yeah, to marry us off or something.”
She’s joking, but I consider it for a moment because I know my mother and she actually does have a priest on speed dial.
And then my mind goes somewhere it’s never been before. Me, standing in a church, at the altar beside a priest, watching Ariana walk toward me. Big blue eyes locked on mine. Brown hair brushing her shoulders. A white dress.
I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut like I can force the image out.
Because what the fuck was that.
“Are you okay?” Her small hand settles on my arm as she eyes me with genuine concern.
Just picturing marrying you. No big deal.
“Just hoping this goes smoothly.” I clear my throat.
“Okay then.” She hesitates. “I’m ready when you are.”
“One second.” I reach into the back seat and grab the bottle of olive oil before I push open my door. The bite of cold air stings my face as I walk around to her side to help her out.
I’ve never really been the chivalrous type.
I know all the moves—the polite, old-fashioned things like opening doors, pulling out chairs, walking on the outside of the sidewalk—but I’ve never had the desire to actually do them.
Not because I’m an asshole. It’s just never occurred to me to be that way.
I’m a good-time guy, and that kind of behavior feels reserved for something more serious than anything I’ve ever been interested in. Even Whit never pulled it out of me.
But for some reason, I want to be that guy for Ariana.
Maybe it’s because I know she’s a romantic, or because I feel like I have something to prove, but the more I’m around her, the more it comes naturally.
I take her hand and we walk toward the front porch.
The front door swings open before we’re even halfway up, my mother standing at the threshold, already smiling like she was staring out the window from the second we got here.
“Come in, come in,” she says, steering Ariana immediately inside. “It’s so cold. Jack and Leanne are here—such a coincidence, they just happened to be free tonight—”
“Mom,” I say flatly, handing her the oil.
I don’t think anyone here believes that flimsy lie. Clearly, this was planned.
She dismisses me but grabs the bottle and keeps moving.
Ariana never lets go of my hand, squeezing it tighter the further in we walk.
The house is warm and loud and smells like my mom and Wela have been cooking since noon.
The second we cross into the great room I can see all of it at once—Jack and Leanne Ledger in the dining room with my dad, the three of them mid-conversation as if this is completely normal.
Nora a few feet away on her phone. Blake in the kitchen snacking, which earns him a look from Wela that he doesn’t notice.
A heads-up from Nora or Blake would’ve been nice.
The room quiets when they notice us.
Leanne Ledger moves first. She smiles at us warmly—at Ariana specifically—and comes forward with her arms open.
Ariana reluctantly lets go of my hand to step into the hug.
“I thought this would be a fun surprise,” Leanne says, pulling back to look at her daughter, “but based on the deer-in-the-headlights look on both your faces, I think I got that wrong.”
Ariana laughs, shaky but genuine. “Just a little.”
Then Leanne turns to me, and before I can prepare for it she pulls me in too. It’s brief—warm and unhesitating. Definitely a mom hug. When she moves back her eyes find mine and hold them.
“I always knew she’d be the one to rock the boat a little,” she says, quiet enough that it’s just for me. “But I think you can handle it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I put on my best smile and try to ignore the wave of guilt rolling through me.
“What are you guys doing here?” Ariana asks Leanne, unable to hide the alarm in her voice.
Leanne puts on a grin, her eyes cutting to my mom before returning to us.
“Well I heard about you two becoming an item so then I called up Cristina to see if she had heard and then we got to talking and thought it would be so fun to all get together. Especially when neither of us could seem to pull any information out of you two.”
She’s got that right. Ariana already told me she’d been avoiding her mother, and I was doing the same. I didn’t imagine it would lead to them teaming up against us. I didn’t even know our moms talked beyond polite pleasantries in public.
It’s kind of a mindfuck, and I hate the lack of control I feel right now.
My mother descends on Ariana next, fussing over her, telling her how pretty she is, touching her hair. I can feel Ariana tensing from three feet away.
“Mom.” I step in and tug Ariana gently toward me. “Give her some breathing room.”
My mother’s eyes narrow—not offended, just delighted. “So protective,” she says, her tone teasing.
I put my arm around Ariana and keep it there. “Yeah. I am.”
My mother and Leanne exchange a look over our heads. I get the feeling they’ve been talking about us since the news broke.
Across the room Jack Ledger hasn’t moved. He’s smiling, but it’s guarded and strained—eyes moving between me and Ariana and the arm I have around her. I would imagine his thoughts mirror Ethan’s. Ariana is his baby and I’m probably not who he would’ve chosen for her.
And it doesn’t matter that this isn’t real and I’m not the man she ends up with—it still feels like shit.
My dad, to his credit, has been hanging back through all of this. Reading the room. Letting the mothers run the greeting while he waits for the noise to settle.
Ariana slips out from under my arm and crosses to her dad first. She goes up on her toes to hug him and kiss his cheek and something in Jack’s whole body relaxes the moment she’s in his arms.
He says something into her hair I can’t hear and she laughs quietly against his shoulder.
Then she turns and gives my dad a briefer hug, easy and warm, and my dad—who is not a demonstrative man, who shakes hands and nods—hugs her back with both arms.
I shouldn’t be surprised Ariana managed to soften him up.
“Dinner is ready,” Wela announces, poking her head out from the kitchen. “Everyone find a seat.”
The dining table is extended to its full length to accommodate everyone.
I pull out Ariana’s chair before she can do it herself and she rewards me with a small, shy smile.
While we all get settled around the table, Wela emerges from the kitchen carrying a serving dish, her eyes scanning the room. “?Y dónde está la munequita?”
Ariana leans into me. “What did she say? The only other language I speak is French, which is useless right now.”
“She’s wondering where you are,” I whisper just as Wela sets down the dish in the center of the table, her attention zeroing in on Ariana.
“There she is,” Wela says with a smile.
My grandmother speaks fluent English, but her accent is still somewhat thick, making it difficult for outsiders to understand her sometimes. We’re all around her often so we’re used to filling in the blanks and deciphering her stories when she mixes up he and she in English.
Blake is the most fluent in Spanish out of us kids. Nora and Wyatt are average and I fall somewhere in the middle. Not great, but not terrible.
I think if Wela didn’t sprinkle in Spanish around us, I would’ve lost it completely by now.
“Qué linda eres,” Wela says, gently grabbing hold of Ariana’s chin to tilt her face up.
I tense up, knowing this isn’t normal. We’ve tried to tell her she can’t just go around grabbing people’s faces but it’s never gotten through to her. After a decades-long career in the beauty industry, she’s overly comfortable getting up close and personal with strangers.
Ariana smiles warmly at her and I feel myself relax a fraction.
At least she’s not freaking out from my invasive grandmother.
“What does munequita mean?” Ariana asks, pronouncing the word slowly.
Wela releases her chin and slides her gaze to me before returning it to Ariana.
“It means little doll. Because you look like a beautiful little doll.”
Ariana’s eyes dart to mine. Like she just made the connection on where her nickname came from.
During the grand opening of the tasting room, Wela stopped by and eventually wandered over to Novel.
When she came back with her cafecito, she wouldn’t stop talking—in Spanish—about the cute little doll who made her drink.
By then, I was already fighting a growing fascination with Ariana, and Wela wasn’t wrong.
She was this stunning, untouchable doll.
Fair skin, pink cheeks, bright blue eyes. Almost too beautiful to be real.
The first time I called her doll, it just slipped out. But then it stuck. And I guess I never really told her why.
Nora appears, noticeably without Levi, in the doorway of the dining room still holding her phone, slightly breathless. “I’m so sorry,” she says to the table, already moving to her seat. “Client emergency. Completely unavoidable. I missed everything, didn’t I?”
“Just lots of awkwardness,” Blake provides. He’s been steering clear of everything. Always more of an observer than a participant.
“You think everything is awkward,” Nora says to Blake before sitting down and turning to Ariana. “Hi.” She grins. “So you’re really with my brother? Because I do not want it held against my coffee order when he inevitably fucks up.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Nor. Really appreciate it.”
Ariana chuckles. “I’ll grant you full immunity.”
That seems to please Nora enough to keep her from pestering Ariana.
Dishes get passed around. Mexican rice, refried beans, Wela’s chile rellenos.
As everyone is serving themselves, my dad stands, clearing his throat and clinking a butter knife against his wine glass.