EPILOGUE
Noah
After we’d finished desserts, Charlotte collected everyone’s plates and carried them into the kitchen. My mom offered to help, but my girlfriend politely declined. She claimed it was because my mother had done the majority of the cooking, but I knew the real reason.
It’d be better if everyone stayed out of her way.
She already had her camera and lighting set up to film a timelapse of her cleaning up our Thanksgiving feast.
Hosting it at my house had made the most sense. My parents’ place was too small because both my brothers and their families had come in for the holiday. There were twelve of us, but my oldest nephew was a teenager, and he’d eaten enough food for at least three people. My mom had been prepared, though, cooking larger portions and bringing an extra can of cranberry sauce that was solely for him.
I sat at the dining table I’d bought recently, catching up with my family while keeping one ear pointed toward the kitchen. Charlotte knew if she needed any help, all she had to do was ask and I’d be there. Otherwise I’d stay out of the shot. My brief appearance on her livestream had been more than enough for me.
Was she happy to have a break from my family right now? The introduction to everyone seemed to have gone well, but my younger nieces and nephews were loud and had zero boundaries, and honestly, so did the rest of my family. They were fascinated by my girlfriend, partly because I’d had so few in my life and brought even fewer ‘home.’
But Charlotte didn’t seem to mind. She thrived on attention, after all.
When I heard the dishwasher start, I stood. “Anyone need more wine?”
My mother held up her nearly empty glass. I nodded and strolled toward the kitchen, lingering in the doorway.
“Permission to enter?” I teased.
Charlotte chuckled. “Permission granted.”
She stood by the island, wearing a pair of rubber gloves that went to her elbows because she didn’t want to mess up her nails, and used a sponge to wipe down the countertop. Pans and cutting knives were stacked and drying on dishtowels beside her.
When she glanced up to see my approach, a bright smile warmed her face. Shit, even with those garish yellow gloves, she was so goddamn beautiful, it made me ache.
“Need any help?” I asked.
She nodded toward the pans. “You want to dry those?”
“Sure.” Although I’d come a long way, this was still one of the few tasks she trusted me to be able to handle.
I got out a clean dishtowel and went to work.
“When do you think you’ll have the video ready to upload?” I asked. “Squarespace wants approval before posting.” Her sponsorships had grown considerably over the last month since she’d surpassed a hundred thousand subscribers.
“At least a few days because I need to record the voiceover, edit, and I might reshoot the stuff I did yesterday. I think I could do it better.” She came to the sink, standing beside me as she rinsed the sponge and put it in the hanging holder she’d asked me to buy.
Charlotte wasn’t my employee anymore. We’d done a great job compartmentalizing, but she was my girlfriend who didn’t have the time for it, and she’d trained me well enough. It also helped that she was here a lot of the time, keeping me in check, and she continued to use my place for content.
I didn’t mind cleaning. In fact, sometimes I sort of enjoyed it—although I’d never admit that to her. I liked the sense of accomplishment when it was done, the better organization, and the way it could lift my mood.
Why the fuck hadn’t I lived like this before?
“Remind me,” I said, “what time tomorrow?” Because we were doing Thanksgiving with her side of the family at her parents’ house.
“My mom said three, so that means dinner won’t be ready until at least four.” She’d been amused with herself, but it vanished, becoming totally serious. “But be there at three. Because she gets mad if anyone points out she’s running behind.”
“Got it.” I wiped away the water droplets clinging to the inside of the roasting pan. “Are you nervous about tomorrow?”
She hesitated and her voice dipped low. “About going to the club?”
Heat spread through me at her meaning. After dinner tomorrow, we had plans to go to Club Eros.
Since we’d fallen in love, we hadn’t played with anyone else. These last two months, we’d just been enjoying our time together. We’d discussed if we wanted to play with others, but we’d see how we felt about it when we got there and only do it if we were both interested.
There was a strong possibility we’d be satisfied just watching this first time. No matter what, I was confident the evening would be a lot of fun, not to mention, hot.
“No,” I said, “I meant the part where I’m meeting your family.”
“Oh.” She considered it as she rinsed the sink. “No, I think they’ll love you.”
“Even your dad?” I said it as a joke, but I was serious. I’d only seen Ardy twice since our meeting where I’d asked for his help, and both times had been awkward as fuck. But she assured me he’d come around.
“Yeah, even my dad.” She had a thought. “But, maybe, bring some bourbon. He likes the expensive kind.”
I chuckled. “Of course he does.”
Footsteps shuffled across the tile, and we both turned to look.
Tyson was only a few years older than I was, and he had classic middle child syndrome. The guy loved flying under the radar. He pulled open the fridge, grabbed the tin of pumpkin pie and a tub of Cool Whip.
“Dude,” I said. “We just ate dessert.”
He shrugged. “I got sent in here to see what you’re doing. Mom wants to know the status on the wine.”
I stared at him as he pulled down a plate from a cabinet and dug through my silverware drawer for a fork, spoon, and knife. “She ask you to get her some pie too?”
“Nope, pie’s for me.” He cut himself a slice and used the knife to transfer it to the plate, sending pie crust crumbs skittering across the counter. The tub of Cool Whip was opened, and the spoon scooped out a dollop and plunked it down on the slice of pie. “I figured I’d get some as long as I’m in here.”
I felt Charlotte’s intent gaze watching him as he stood at the island, holding his plate while eating and making a mess where she’d just cleaned. But she said nothing, maintaining a perfect smile. It made me think of the GIF where the dog was sitting at the table, saying everything was fine while the house around him was on fire.
“Are you two,” Tyson said with a mouthful of food, “about ready to start game night?”
I forced the irritation from my voice. “Yeah, we’ll be done in a minute.”
He scraped the plate with the fork, getting every last bit of the pie, before setting the plate down. He pulled the spoon out of the Cool Whip, tapped it on the side of the tub... and set the dirty spoon on the counter like a goddamn savage.
He did the same with the knife he’d used to cut the pie, carelessly smudging pie filling across the stone.
My brother didn’t hear her sharp intake of breath or notice how her shoulders tensed.
“Really, Ty?” I sighed.
“What?” He capped the tub and pulled the plastic wrap back in place on the pie, before putting them away in the fridge.
“Come on,” I groaned, moving swiftly to the island so I could stack his dirty utensils on the plate.
Tyson watched me with wonderment. “Bro. When did you become such a clean freak?”
His question was rhetorical. Or maybe it wasn’t, but I ignored it. Charlotte moved beside me, grabbed the plate, and swept the crumbs onto it with the sponge.
“Thanks,” he said to her.
She flashed him a smile. “Well, thanks for not making me sit at the kids’ table.”
He feigned seriousness. “We had a lengthy discussion about it, and I was the deciding vote for you to join us.” He jerked his thumb toward me. “Can you believe this guy was against it?”
She chuckled at his bullshit that he probably thought was charming, but I found annoying. His gaze shifted to me, giving me a look that said, I like her.
My irritation with him vanished. Me too.
When he turned to leave—
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” I opened the fridge and handed him the bottle of wine.
Once he was gone, I returned to the sink and my stack of drying dishes, while she handwashed the pieces Tyson had just used.
“Game night?” she asked quietly.
“It’s a tradition, and I need to apologize in advance. My family is so competitive, they can be kind of obnoxious.”
She laughed. “Should I apologize in advance for beating all their asses?”
“Definitely. They’d love that.”
We fell into comfortable silence for a moment before she pulled off one of her rubber gloves. She’d done it so she could unlock her phone and turn on the camera.
“Picture,” she asked, holding it high up and at an angle.
I leaned in and stared at the screen, seeing her wearing the rubber glove and me with the dishtowel cast over my shoulder. We stood together with bright, happy smiles, and it might have looked staged, but those grins on our faces?
They couldn’t have been more fucking real.
I’d never thought I would want something like this, but shit, she’d changed me so much. And I’d done the same to her, hadn’t I? Not just with her flourishing business, either. We’d grown into better, more complete people with each other.
Everything else? It was just a bonus.
Because we were all each other needed.
. . .
Thank you so much for reading THE brOKER!