11. Daire
11
DAIRE
Last year, I missed Thanksgiving with my family since I had an away game that weekend. This time, I have no legitimate excuse to avoid going home, despite how badly I wish I didn’t have to face this.
We board her family’s private jet, since Cash called dibs on my dad’s. Ironically, when my dad called to tell me Cash would be using the jet to fly home from Colorado, he’d already arranged for me to travel with Rosie, since we’re literal neighbors. It would’ve been the perfect opportunity to say, “Cool, I was going to fly with her anyway, since she’s my wife.” But I kept my mouth shut.
It’s been easy enough until now to ignore reality.
My family can’t know the real reason I married Rosie. They have to believe this is real, just like everyone else.
The two of us don’t speak until after the plane has taken off for New York. It’s a short flight, so we settle in quickly. Rosie puts a corny rom-com on and slips a set of headphones onto her head. She’s makeup free, which is a rare sight. It’s been years since I’ve seen her when she wasn’t completely made up. She looks softer without it. Younger.
She slides the headphones off and rests them on her shoulder. “I can feel you staring at me. What do you want?” She doesn’t ask it with malice, but rather simple curiosity.
“Nothing.” I reach for the bottle of water our flight attendant delivered earlier. I’d prefer something stronger, but I know better than to show up drunk to her family’s home or mine.
“It must be something.” She angles forward and pauses her movie.
“Nope.”
She rolls her eyes. “Liar.” Hands on her headphones, she moves to put them back on but stops. “You know, in order for this marriage to work, we need to communicate.”
I snort. “This isn’t a real marriage, Rose. Let’s not get it twisted.”
“You’re impossible.” She crinkles her nose in annoyance. “We don’t know how long this is going to last. We need to at least try to get along. Think you can do that? Need I remind you, I’m doing you a favor, not the other way around? I also really miss sex.”
The last part she tacks on has me snickering. “The eyeful you got of my dick didn’t satiate you?”
“After I stopped gagging? Hardly.”
“Please.” I fight my smile. “You were drooling, but I could certainly make you gag on it if you’d like.”
Rosie’s cheeks turn a shade reminiscent of the bright red lipstick she usually wears.
“I’m done talking to you.”
She slips her headphones on, but before she can settle them in place, I touch her arm, halting her. Lips pursed, she arches a brow in response, clearly annoyed that I’m interrupting her again.
“I don’t want to tell anyone about Sammy yet.”
She closes her eyes, inhaling a long breath. “No talking about Junior yet. Got it. Are we done here?”
I nod, and she puts her headphones back in place, then starts her movie once more.
Set on getting some much-needed sleep, I recline my chair and close my eyes. It’s not a long flight, but hopefully with a nap, I’ll be better prepared to handle whatever shit’s about to go down.
“Who are we telling first? Your dad or my parents?”
We probably should’ve discussed this before we boarded the plane this morning. At the very least, we should have worked through it before we got in the car that’s taking us to our families’ homes.
“My dad,” I finally reply.
In front of us, the driver glances at us in the rearview mirror, brow arched. We’ve kept the conversation cryptic, since Tony has worked with Rosie’s parents for years and will certainly tattle before we can confess.
“Good idea,” she agrees, digging through her purse. She pulls out a mirror, then a small fabric bag. From there, she proceeds to apply a full face of makeup. I don’t see why she needs it, but if it makes her feel better, then who am I to tell her not to? She wipes beneath her left eye where her mascara has smudged and then applies her red lipstick. Once she’s capped the lipstick, she nods at her reflection, almost like she’s giving herself a silent pep talk.
“How many of your brothers are going to be there?”
I look at my watch. “Cash should already be here, so all of them.”
“Okay.”
She’s not at all unnerved by the idea of facing all four of them. She actually likes them. I’m still wrapping my head around the idea that she stayed in touch with them after our friendship imploded. And not a single one of the fuckwit traitors mentioned it to me.
“Hey, Tony,” she says, like he hasn’t been eavesdropping on our conversation. “I’ll get out at Daire’s house. Let my parents know I’ll be over later.”
He arches his brows in the rearview mirror. “Do you want me to give them a reason why?”
“No,” she says brightly, unfazed.
I shake my head. Tony probably suspects that we’re dating. He assumes that’s the news. We wisely removed our rings before getting off the plane since we weren’t sure whether we’d be picked up by a driver or family.
The homes in the neighborhood we grew up in each sit on several acres. The wide-open space makes it feel like we’re in the middle of nowhere, even though we’re only an hour outside Manhattan. It’s an exclusive area, though, and every homeowner here is making billions.
Tony stops in front of the massive gates at the entrance to the neighborhood. A hidden camera scans the car—the license plate and even the number of occupants—before they slowly swing open.
The road in is lined with trees for the first mile. As it opens up, we come upon the first house—or I should say property, since the house isn’t visible from the road. I’ve never met the people who live there. Over the years, my brothers and I made up stories about who it might be. Asher, my eldest brother, is convinced it’s owned by a European prince or something. While Roman, my baby brother, thinks it must be a spy, since we’ve never once seen any sign of life on the property—not even staff. I have a hard time believing a spy would have that kind of money, but who knows.
When we finally get to the driveway that leads up to my dad’s house, Tony stops the car to wait for yet another gate. Not only is the entire neighborhood fully gated, but so is every individual house.
He follows the curve of the driveway and pulls up in front of the massive house. Growing up, this was all I knew. For the longest time, I had no idea that the vast majority of people don’t live in houses this size. Even I don’t understand why anyone needs a home so large. Now that I’ve been out on my own, I can’t imagine ever living in a place the size of a shopping mall, no matter how much money I have.
“Thanks, Tony,” Rosie says to him, getting out of the car.
He waits until I’ve climbed out too before he asks, “Should I unload your luggage here, Mr. Hendricks?”
The question stops me in my tracks. Stupidly, I didn’t even think about what will be expected after we tell our families we’re married. I’ve had too much other shit on my mind to worry about how strange it will look if we stay in separate houses.
Fuck.
“Yeah, you can leave it here.” There’s a good chance I’ll have to throw it in my car when we head to Rosie’s family’s house, but I know better than to make this decision on my own.
Ice slithers down my spine.
We’re married.
Not dating.
They’re going to set us up in a bedroom together. Why wouldn’t they?
The idea of sharing a whole bed with Rosie has me spiraling.
I’m borrowing trouble, though, so I shove those thoughts away.
Regardless, I stick to my decision. This way, I can prolong the inevitable. If I told him he didn’t need to leave it here, then his suspicions would be confirmed, and I have no doubt he’d run right to Rosie’s dad. At least this way, he can’t be totally sure.
“All right,” he says, mistrust gleaming in his eyes.
Rosie and I head for the front door, careful to keep almost two feet of space between us.
The door opens before we get to the top of the stairs, and Roman comes running out with a hoot of joy.
But it’s not me he’s happy to see.
He throws his arms around Rosie, almost tackling her to the ground.
Jealousy burns in my chest. Not because he’s touching Rosie, and I’m hit with a wave of possessiveness over her. It definitely can’t be that. No, I’m jealous because he’s my brother, yet he’s more excited to see her.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, grasping her upper arms and steadying her before she falls.
I narrow my eyes on where he’s holding her, even though she’s got her feet firmly planted on the ground.
“This one dragged me along.” She tosses a thumb at me.
My lip curls.
Roman chuckles, running his fingers through his shaggy blond hair. His is a shade darker than mine. Wavier too.
“You mean to tell me you two have kissed and made up after what…? Five years?”
Rosie side-eyes me. Do we tell him? That’s what she’s silently asking me.
I hold back a sigh. If we tell Roman, he’ll save us the trouble of breaking the news to the rest of my family. But I can’t imagine my father would appreciate that approach.
I give a subtle shake of my head.
“I guess you could say that,” she replies with a genuine smile.
Her smile has nothing to do with me, and fuck if that doesn’t make me all the more annoyed.
“Well, come on.” He throws his arm around her shoulders, tugging her up the last few stairs to the front door. “Get in here. Cash will be happy to see you.”
I clench my jaw at the comment. My older brother had a thing for Rosie for years when we were growing up. For all I know, he still has a thing for her, since I had no idea they kept in touch.
Out of all my brothers, I’m the closest to Cash, who’s only a year older than me, and Roman, who’s two years younger.
I’ll never understand how my parents handled having five boys practically back-to-back, regardless of how much help they had.
Inside the foyer, Roman hollers out, “Cash! Guess who’s here?” To Rosie, he says, “I think he’s in the kitchen. Are you hungry?”
“I could have a snack.”
“Perfect.”
I stand on the threshold, watching them head in the direction of the kitchen. Part of me is tempted to go off on my own, but a bigger part, the nosy part, wants to witness the way Rosie interacts with my brothers.
“Rosie!” Cash grins from ear to ear when he spots her. He’s sitting on one of the barstools at the large kitchen island, mouth stuffed with a piece of the fudge Elsie, our family cook, makes every holiday season. “What are you doing here?”
He pulls her out of Roman’s arms and envelops her in a hug. I swear he even sniffs her hair. Cash holds her a little too long, at least in my opinion. Clearing my throat, I step closer and wait for him to let her go, but he doesn’t.
Rosie doesn’t encourage him to release her. In fact, she hugs him back just as tightly.
“You smell good,” she tells him. “New cologne?”
“Maybe.” He kisses her cheek.
Okay, now I’m pissed.
Rage courses through me, heating my blood, as I stride closer. “Hands off my wife, Cash.”
Everyone in the room freezes, myself included, and every eye goes wide.
Fuck. Why the hell did I say that?
Rosie shoots a what the fuck? look my way. It’s warranted, since I just told her not to spill the beans to Roman.
“Wife?” Cash laughs uproariously. “You’re fucking joking, right?” He shakes his head. “I didn’t know we were pranking each other this early, but this is a good one.” With a wag of his finger, he spins, picks up a piece of fudge, and offers it to Rosie. “Fudge?”
She takes it from him with her left hand. Where, suddenly, her wedding band has appeared.
Hand trembling, I dig in my pocket for mine and wiggle it on.
Cash’s jaw drops as he grabs her hand and gapes at the ring. “You’re going all out for this prank. Those look like real diamonds.”
“It’s not a prank,” Rosie says softly, her cheeks pinkening. She glances over at me, lashes lowering so she doesn’t fully meet my gaze. “We’re married.”
I lift my left hand as well, now that I’ve put my ring back on, and wiggle my fingers. The glower is still firmly fixed to my face, since my brother still hasn’t removed his hands from my wife. I don’t care if it’s Rosie, if I still hate her. I’m legally bound to her now, and that should be enough of a reason for my brother to keep his distance.
“I’m not going to ask you again,” I bite out through clenched teeth. “Take. Your. Hands. Off. My. Wife.”
Cash chuckles with a shake of his head, but he finally lets go of Rosie and holds both hands up. “How was I supposed to know? My invitation must’ve gotten lost in the mail.”
Rosie’s cosplaying as a tomato now. “It was pretty sudden.” She darts a look at me, silently asking whether what she said is okay.
I eat up the distance between us and put a hand on her waist. I can’t yell at my brother for manhandling her and then act like I don’t want to touch her myself.
“Wait,” Roman keels over laughing, “does Dad know?” When I shake my head, he sobers, his eyes going wide. “Do your parents know?” he asks Rosie.
“No.” She bites her lip. “We’re telling everyone today.”
Cash reaches for another piece of fudge and pops it into his mouth. “I’m so glad I’m here to witness this.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “Stop reveling in this.”
He chuckles. “Nice try, but I’m going to enjoy every second of the show when Dad chews you out, and I thoroughly hope Chandler tears into you,” he says, referring to Rosie’s dad. “Oh, yeah.” He rubs his hands together eagerly. “This is going to be great.”
Brothers—we’d go to war for each other, but we also take immense pleasure in watching one another suffer the consequences of their actions when it comes to our dad.
“What’s going on in here?” Elsie’s voice echoes through the room. “Do I hear my favorite?”
“If by me, then yes, but you already saw me,” Cash says as Elsie enters from the hallway on the other side of the kitchen.
As he goes in for yet another piece of fudge, she puts it into overdrive and reaches him in time to slap his hand away.
“You’ll spoil your dinner,” she scolds. With a big smile, she turns and stops in front of me. She has to stand on her tiptoes to take my face in her hands. “I’ve missed you. You don’t come home enough.”
My chest tightens. She’s right. “Sorry.”
“Sure you are,” she harrumphs. An instant later, though, her smile grows impossibly wide. “And you brought Ms. Rosie with you? I take it this means you two have finally made up. I’ve missed seeing you around, deary. Oh.” She freezes when she notices my hand on Rosie’s waist, and her eyes widen with excitement. “Are you two together?”
“Better,” Roman replies, leaning against the counter with a smirk. “They’re married.”
“Married?” Elsie blurts, bringing both hands to her cheeks. “How come I didn’t know? I would’ve made the cake!”
“It was a bit sudden,” I answer, ignoring the guilt eating at me at the mix of excitement and hurt every person we’ve told thus far has displayed.
“Yes.” Rosie beams, looking for all the world like she’s truly in love with me. She wraps her arms around one of mine and gazes up at me adoringly. “Once we made up, we realized how much we actually love each other, and now, here we are.”
Elsie puts a hand to her heart. “That’s so sweet. But no wedding?”
“It’s okay.” Rosie flashes a smile. “My boo bear promised me the wedding of my dreams this summer.” She pats my chest.
“Boo bear,” Cash chortles, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s not as built as I am, but he’s plenty muscular. “You’re never living this one down, baby brother.”
I roll my eyes. He acts like I’m so much younger than him.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask Roman, because Cash is currently dead to me.
“In his office,” he replies, opening the fridge and sticking his head in. “What’s for dinner, Elsie?”
“We better go talk to him,” I whisper in Rosie’s ear. Now that Cash and Roman know, it’ll be no time before Asher and Hudson find out. The last thing I need is for my brothers to tell my dad before I can. I’m mostly certain he’ll be cooler about this than Rosie’s dad, but I worry he’ll be upset if he hears the news from someone else.
“Okay.” She gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.
“Good luck!” Cash calls, cackling like this is the funniest thing he’s ever witnessed.
Ignoring him, I tug Rosie down the hall to the back set of stairs that will bring us close to my dad’s office on the second floor.
“Did you have a thing with Cash?” My tone is harsher than I intend and laced with an anger I have no right to feel.
She startles at my question and pulls up short. “What?”
“You heard me.” I squeeze her hand a little too hard as I try, unsuccessfully, to choke back my frustration.
“Ow.” Frowning, she tugs her hand out of mine. “No, I never had a thing for Cash.” She practically growls the words and heads up the stairs without looking back to make sure I’m following. “He wasn’t the brother I was interested in,” she whispers, like she hopes I can’t hear her.
My heart pounds, and my feet freeze halfway up the steps. “Roman, then?”
She whips around and rolls her eyes. “What difference does it make who I had a crush on years ago? I was a teenager.”
“It matters to me,” I bite out, taking a step closer so we’re eye to eye.
She scrutinizes me unblinkingly. “Are you really this big of an idiot?”
I open my mouth to reply, but she slaps her palm over it.
“Don’t answer that. You’ll just dig a bigger hole for yourself.”
Lowering her hand, she spins and continues up the wide staircase.
I stay behind, but only because the view is annoyingly nice.
She waits for me at the top, then follows me to the office, even though she knows where it is. With a steadying breath, I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants, then knock on the door and wait.
“Roman,” my dad hollers, “I told you already, I’m not building a skate park in the backyard for Christmas.”
I chuckle. “It’s me, Dad.”
“Oh.” He pauses. “Come in.”
I shoot a look at Rosie. Ready or not? Then I open the door and usher Rosie in first, since it’s the gentlemanly thing to do. Plus, it gives me a few more seconds to catch my breath before facing my father.
His mahogany desk is a monstrous thing. The wall behind him is lined with tome after tome of rare and collectible literature. My brothers and I used to poke fun at him for his love of old books. Regardless of where we traveled, he’d always cart us off to used bookstores.
With a smile, he slides his reading glasses off and sets them aside. The expression on his face has nothing to do with me, though, and everything to do with the woman at my side.
Despite our falling out, my dad and brothers still love Rosie.
“Rosie,” he crows, getting up from his desk and coming around to pull her into a hug.
“It’s good to see you, Mr. Hendricks.”
He pulls away from the hug but keeps a hold of her shoulders. “How many times do I have to tell you? Call me Peter.”
“Peter,” she parrots with a tiny laugh.
I stand in the middle of the room, hands hanging limply at my sides now, eyes on the ceiling, doing my best not to be hurt that every person here is more excited to see an old friend than they are to see me, a member of the family.
“Daire,” he says, finally turning to me. “I’ve missed you.” He opens his arms for a hug.
The anger fades and is quickly replaced by a comfort I only feel when I’m with him, and I squeeze him back.
Despite his workaholic tendencies, he’s been more present than most parents. When we were kids, he was always home by five. Even if he usually holed up in his home office after dinner.
Still, I can’t complain. He lost the love of his life and runs a billion-dollar company, yet he still managed to be present in our lives.
“Does this mean you two have finally made up?” he asks me with an arched brow. “You guys were so close, practically attached at the hip, until you weren’t.”
“Uh… yeah, I guess you could say that.”
I glance over at Rosie, who’s worrying her bottom lip, silently urging me to get this over with.
I swallow back the trepidation rising inside me. I might be a full-blown adult, but that doesn’t stop me from being mildly terrified of my father. As a teenager, I spent more than a few nights getting chewed out in this room. I earned each of those lectures, but that knowledge doesn’t ease my feeling of dread.
“Dad.” I clear my throat.
“Hmm?” He hums, cocking his head to the side. Before I can answer, he blanches. “You didn’t get her pregnant, did you?”
Rosie bursts into laughter. No doubt the little hellion is thinking to herself that no, she’s not pregnant, but I did knock someone up. I’ll give her credit, since she makes no move to rat me out.
“I’m not pregnant,” she says through her laughter.
“Oh, good.” His shoulders sag. “I’m too young to be a grandpa.”
“Uh… Dad? Asher’s married. I’m pretty sure you’ll be a grandpa in no time.”
He waves a hand dismissively. “They’ve been fighting since they got here. I’m pretty sure a divorce is more imminent than a baby.”
I frown. “Asher and Veda are having problems? I… I didn’t know.” I actually like my brother’s wife. She keeps him in line and is a pretty cool chick. They’ve been together for years. The idea that they could split has a pit forming in my stomach.
“You could pick up the phone and call your brothers now and then.”
“We text,” I say, though his comment hits with perfect accuracy. I’ve done a shitty job of staying in touch.
“In a group chat?” he asks, chin dipped and brows raised.
I run a hand down my face and swallow thickly. “Yes.”
“And you think Asher is going to talk about it in a group text chat? Come on. You know him better than that.”
I do. No one would describe my oldest brother as rowdy, like they would the rest of us. He’s the kind of person who bottles up his emotions. So maybe it’s possible that his marriage is struggling. If he can’t communicate, then it’s hard not to think he’s destined to fail.
“I’ll talk to him while I’m here,” I mumble.
“Anyway,” he leans back against his desk, “what was it you were going to tell me?”
With my heart in my throat, I loop an arm around Rosie’s waist and tug her against my side. She’s soft against me, her sweet-smelling perfume permeating the air.
My dad’s eyes light up as he takes us in. “Are you two dating? I’ve been waiting for this day since?—”
I clear my throat. “We’re married, actually.”
If I had to guess how my father would react to the news, I never would have even considered what happens next.
“What?” he asks, clutching his chest. “M-Married?”
“Dad?” I lunge forward, grasping his arm as he sways, unsteady on his feet. “Dad?” I say, louder this time.
His legs give out then, but before he can hit the floor, I catch him.
Behind me, Rosie screams.
Panic floods me, but I have the wherewithal to check his pulse. I find it, but it’s weak.
“Call 911,” I tell Rosie.
I think I just killed my dad.