Chapter 26
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
DONNIE
“Darling, do you mind favoriting this song for me, please?” I sneak a quick glance toward Connor who’s been staring out of the passenger window for the past twenty minutes.
He drags his gaze away and taps on my phone where it’s clamped to the holder on the dash. “For your spin list?”
I’m always on the lookout for songs to design workout routines to and Connor has been kind enough to let us listen to a new music playlist while we drive up to his parents’ anniversary weekend. “Yes, please.”
Connor immediately goes back to staring out of the window and the sight of it makes my heart clench.
He’s been like this for days now. Sullen and sad, with the weight of the weekend settling heavier and heavier on his shoulders.
I even suggested we put on a scary movie two nights ago and he opted to go to bed instead.
That’s when I knew that the prospect of an entire weekend with his family is really bothering him.
I’m not exactly clear on what the problem is either. Connor can’t seem to articulate it. He says they argue about nothing. They never apologize. Then they pretend it didn’t happen and argue again. It goes around and around in a cycle that sounds exhausting. And frankly, unhealthy.
It’s hard to know whether it’s actually that bad.
Connor has a tendency toward the dramatic, which I suppose fits with the whole storyteller and filmmaker thing.
It does give me pause though, if they’re really that nitpicky, how the hell are they going to react to me?
I have to admit that this unknown factor has made me less than excited to spend an entire weekend in the same house as Connor’s parents.
“I’m sure everything will work out.”
Connor lets out a sigh filled with defeat. “I know. I’ll be fine.”
I hate that he feels this way, but short of turning around and going home, all I can do is be there for him. Perhaps his family will be less inclined to argue with a stranger in their midst.
It takes almost four hours to drive from Brooklyn all the way up to Springfield, Massachusetts. We get to the Hill’s house with barely a minute to spare. Three generations of them are gathered out front and they all turn to stare when we pull up.
Connor slouches low in his seat. “Do I have to get out?”
“No, we can turn around and drive back to New York, if you want.” I’m only half-joking. I wouldn’t be opposed to turning tail and running.
“No, let’s go. Brace yourself.” Connor pops open the car door.
Well, that’s not ominous at all.
An older version of Connor is standing in the driveway with his hands on his hips. “You’re late.” That must be Brad.
“You said dinner. I’m here before dinner.”
Brad shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “At least you’re here.”
“Yeah, great to see you too.”
Whoa, the tension isn’t just palpable, it’s thick enough to cut with a cold, dull butter knife.
A little girl breaks away from her mother and comes charging at Connor. His demeanor flips in an instant and he’s smiling as he bends down to swoop her up and swing her around. “Hey, little girl!”
“I’m not little anymore!”
“Hey, big girl.”
I catch Connor’s wince as he sets her down and I bite back my smile. He’s going to thank me for that proper office chair soon.
“Wait! I’m bigger than her!” Another girl has joined them now. The older sister, I believe.
Connor gives her a hug. “You’re big too!”
“Come on, girls, go get in the car.” Their mother comes to give Connor a kiss on the cheek. “Good to see you, Connor.”
Then she turns an appraising eye to me. “I’m Hazel, Connor’s sister-in-law.”
“Lovely to meet you.”
Her eyes light up when I shake her hand. It happens sometimes when I open my mouth—ah, the magic of the British accent. She mouths a not-so-subtle “nice job” to Connor before turning back to corral her kids.
Connor’s mother is right behind her, pulling him into a hug so tight, he’s wheezing. “Hi, Mom,” he squeaks.
She holds him at arm’s length and pins him with a stare that even scares me. “It’s about time.”
“For what?” Connor sounds like a mouse.
“You’ve been away too long.”
“I’ve been busy?” He doesn’t sound certain.
Her eyebrow twitches and Connor flinches. “Too busy to visit your family?
Connor looks panicked for a moment before he turns to me. “This is Donnie!”
Great. Time to lay myself down on the sacrificial altar, it seems.
Except Connor’s mother cuts a sideways glance at me before narrowing her eyes back on him. “Donnie with the fever?”
How did she know about the fever?
“Uh, yeah.” Connor looks sheepish. There’s something there that he hasn’t told me about.
A polite mask drops over her face as she introduces herself. “Welcome, Donnie. I’m Kathleen. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
I’m not sure what she’s referring to but I can play along. “Likewise, Kathleen.”
Brad comes up to physically lead her away. “Car. Restaurant. We’re already late.”
I don’t think I’m going to like Brad.
An older man claps Connor on the back hard enough that I wince. Then he holds his hand out to me. He squeezes hard, so I squeeze back equally hard. Cycling isn’t only about the legs, you know. The muscles around his eyes tighten just enough that I know he notices. “I’m Harold.”
“Donnie.”
“Enough chatting! Let’s go! We can talk at the restaurant!” Yeah, I’m not going to like Brad, there’s no question about it.
“We get it, we get it,” Connor grumbles under his breath and I can’t blame him.
I’m pulling the car away from the curb when I glance over at Connor. He’s slumped in his seat again, arms crossed over his chest, staring out the window.
“How does your mother know I had a fever?”
His cheeks go pink and he drops his hand into his face. “I might’ve called her,” he mumbles.
“What is that?” I ask because I can.
He glares at me. He knows I heard him the first time. “I called her, okay? You were passed out and I didn’t know what to do.”
Laughter bubbles up inside me, so bright and fizzy that I can’t hold it in.
“Yeah, yeah, go ahead and laugh. It’s not like you weren’t dying or anything. Excuse me for worrying about you.”
“Sorry! I’m sorry!” I reach for his hand and he lets me take it. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear. It’s very sweet. You’re adorable. Thank you.”
Connor pouts and I want to tug him into my lap for a cuddle. He’s usually so sunshine that when he gets grumpy, I can’t help but tease. We drive the rest of the way like that, his hand in mine, and when I turn into the parking lot of the restaurant, I don’t want to let go.
I shut off the engine and bring his hand to my lips. “Ready?”
Connor gazes at me through his lashes and my breath catches in my chest. He’s so precious, my Connor.
I want to give him everything. He leans toward me and I meet him across the middle console.
He’s been using my body wash and it smells good on him.
He groans into my mouth and I scrape my fingers over his scalp, right behind his ear.
A knock reverberates from the passenger-side window and we both jump. Brad’s bent over at the waist, peering in.
“Whenever you’re ready to join us,” he deadpans. He really is a jerk. No wonder Connor doesn’t like him.
“I suppose we should go in.”
Brad’s made such a big deal about being late, but it only took us fifteen minutes to get to the restaurant, and it turns out that he booked the private dining room at the back.
He’s sitting at one end of the long table with Hazel and the kids.
Kathleen and Harold are on one side of the table and Connor and I take the other.
Connor reaches under the table and I take his hand in mine. His shoulders drop an inch as we intertwine our fingers and my heart clenches a little more for him.
“So, Donnie.” Kathleen looks back and forth between us. “How did the two of you meet?”
Connor has a vise grip on my hand and it might leave bruises. But he’s got nothing to worry about because I’ve got it handled. “I’m a spin instructor at the gym where Connor’s a member.”
“You go to the gym?” Brad scoffs. “Since when?”
Oh, Brad had better watch himself or Connor’s not the only one who’s going to get goaded into a fight.
“I go to the gym,” Connor shoots back.
“Boys,” Kathleen says quietly but deadly, and they both snap their mouths shut. She smiles at me like she didn’t just threaten the well-being of her only two children. This woman is fierce. “I’ve never done spin before. What’s it like? It’s the one with the bikes, right?”
I can answer this question in my sleep and I give her my most charming smile. I might lean into my accent too, but who’s keeping track? “It is. The classes are fairly high-intensity. They’re designed to be both cardio and strength training.”
“I love spin!” Hazel chimes in from the other side of the table. “I mean, when I can get to a class. These two are my own private spin classes these days.” I like Hazel. What is she doing with a guy like Brad?
One of the girls—Brooke, I think—tugs on her mother’s sleeve. “Mommy, I can spin, too! Lemme show you.” She tries to slide off her chair but Hazel very deftly keeps her in place.
“We know you can spin, honey. But not now. You can show Grandma and Grandpa some other time.”
We’re interrupted by waiters who bring dish after dish of Greek mezes until the entire table is overflowing.
Brad’s popping off descriptions of each plate as they come, like he’s the one who made them.
I have to hand it to him though, it’s an impressive spread.
Pastries and cheese and grilled meats and veggies.
There’s enough to feed all of us for a week.
There’s even a giant plate of fries for the girls.
“Donnie, am I correct in assuming that you’re not from America?” Kathleen asks.
What gave it away? “You’re correct. I’m from London, but I’ve lived in New York for more than twenty years.” No need to go into why I came, obviously.
“New York’s expensive,” Harold says to no one in particular. “Real estate prices are unreasonable. It’s impossible for normal people to buy a house.”
He’s not wrong, though he sounds rather bitter about it. Maybe he wanted to get into the market but got priced out? He wouldn’t be the first.
“Donnie owns his own place,” Connor jumps in with pride in his voice.
I grit my teeth. That’s not something I usually share right away.
It tends to throw people off—how can a spin instructor afford an entire house in New York—and then I have to explain about inheriting the place and Roger’s life insurance and all our savings.
That’s way more information than anyone needs to have.
I can see it’s having that effect around the table now.
“It’s a brownstone. Three floors, plus a finished basement and a backyard.” Connor sounds so pleased with himself and well, I can’t hold it against him when he’s beaming like that.
Harold doesn’t look like he believes Connor though, and Kathleen’s got a furrow between her brows. “That’s… very impressive, Donnie. All that for yourself?”
Oh, no. Connor might have bragged us right into a corner. I glance over to see how he wants to play this. He looks guilty enough that there’s no point in denying it. “Well, no, not anymore.”
“I moved in.” He fumbles for my hand under the table again and I give it to him.
Kathleen’s staring daggers at him. “You moved in?”
Connor squirms in his seat. “Yeah, I did.”
She opens her mouth, then clamps it shut into a tight-lipped smile. She cuts through a piece of roasted eggplant, her knife screeching across the plate.
I stab a piece of calamari with my fork and shove it into my mouth. Maybe if we’re all too busy eating, we can forego any more conversation. The faster we get through this dinner, the better off we’ll all be.