2. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
CHRIS
G arry, my mother’s boyfriend, tips his head back and laughs while I regale them with stories about my buddies and time thus far as a wide receiver for Ann Arbor. This isn’t the first time I’ve met Garry, and I’m relieved to see my initial impression of him wasn’t wrong. No man is worthy of my mother, but this guy seems to be as close as it gets. For starters, he’s not a douchebag?quite the opposite, actually?and both times we’ve hung out, we seem to hit it off.
It helps that he’s a huge Griffins’ football fan, and I’m more than happy to share insider information with him about the team and stroke his interest, mostly because this dinner tonight means a hell of a lot to my mother. She’s nervous about meeting Garry’s daughter, so if taking the reins and leading the conversation helps put her at ease, I’m more than happy to oblige. My mom deserves happiness, and it’s about damn time she’s tried to find a little slice of it since my dad died.
“Wine?” Garry uncorks a bottle of red, holding it up for inspection.
I shoot Mom a questioning look, to which she nods, a soft smile lifting the corners of her mouth. I’m not yet twenty-one, and I know she’s under no illusions that I’m an angel. She knows I drink at school, but I’ve never so much as sniffed a drop of alcohol in front of her, so this is new to me.
I nod and take the glass he hands me while he pours one for my mom, then himself, checking the time on his wristwatch. “My daughter should be here any minute,” he says with a nervous edge to his tone.
I take a sip, noting the way my mother tenses beside me. Wanting nothing more than to put her at ease, I say, “You know, I get a couple tickets to each home game if you want to come. Just hit me up or tell my mom. You could come together, or if Mom is busy with the kids, you could even come with a buddy or one of my brothers.”
Garry’s eyes brighten. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all. It would be nice to have those seats filled.”
Mom wraps her arm around me and squeezes. “I went to a couple games last year but haven’t been able to make it back. I keep saying I will, but then one of the kids gets sick or I need to play chauffeur or . . .”
I lean down and press a kiss to her head, cutting her off. I know she feels guilty for not attending all my home games, but there’s no need. She’s busy being a mom to my younger siblings and that’s where she needs to be, so I completely get it.
“Well, yeah. I might just take you up on that. And maybe I could find us a sitter, Barb.” He nudges her. “I know how much you’d love to go to another game.”
I note the way he uses the word us , and I can’t say I mind it. We Collins’ have a large extended family, and we pride ourselves on always being there for each other, but all my aunts and uncles have their own broods with equally busy lives. Help is hard to come by, and though my mom does well for herself as an ER nurse, she can’t afford to hire help all the time. Not that Mom would ever consider it; she prides herself on handling her own business, but the truth is, she could use a lesson in self-care. She needs to treat herself, live a little, and I can’t say I hate Garry encouraging it.
Mom’s cheeks flush at the offer, but I’m more than pleased when she nods and says, “Okay, that would be lovely.”
I lift my wine glass, hiding a smile behind it as I take a sip. I can’t say I hate the prospect of Mom having someone like Garry to lean on while I’m away at school. In fact, it’s straight up heartening. Not to mention I haven’t seen her this effervescent and alive in a long-ass time?at least not since Dad was alive.
Mom stares up at him, beaming with big, round doe eyes, and maybe I’m reading too much into it, or maybe I’m crazy, but I’m pretty sure she’s in love with him.
I wait for the pang that acknowledgment incites, but it’s surprisingly absent. All I feel is gratitude because love looks pretty damn good on her.
When a knock comes from the front of the house, Garry lifts his arm, checking his wristwatch. “That must be my little Bug,” he says, using his nickname for her. “I’ll go walk her in, make sure she doesn’t need help with anything.”
I nod my approval, waiting until he’s gone to turn to my mother.
“Garry’s pretty great, Mom.” Even though this is the second time I’ve met him, I feel the need to say it. The first time we met was brief?a quick lunch off-campus last month when I was still getting used to the notion she had a boyfriend.
“You really think so?” Her eyes brighten, twinkling like a sparkling sea.
“Totally. I can see why you like him.” I pull her in for a hug and squeeze before releasing her. “You look good together.”
“I know it’s been fast, and we’ve only been dating a couple of months, but”?she hesitates, a tentative look in her eyes I don’t often see?“it’s serious,” she finishes, confirming my earlier suspicions.
I nod, acknowledging her confession as I ask, “He’s met the rest of the kids, right?”
“Yeah, many times, actually, and they all love him.” Her smile spreads. “Especially Tucker and Bailey,” she says, referring to the youngest of the brood.
“And what does Garry think about us?” I ask, with a grin. My siblings range in age from nine to sixteen, and I know how wild the youngest two can be.
Mom’s lips twitch. “Well, he went to the Collins’ family reunion last month and had an absolute blast.”
I bark out a laugh, because the Collins’ reunion happens every year in September. It’s a potluck with games and loud music. Between the adults consuming enough beer to drown a whale and the kids hopped up on sugar, it’s usually mass chaos. Almost every time at least one person gets hurt. So, if Garry can endure the reunion and have a good time, then as far as I’m concerned, he’s a keeper.
“Wow.” I scratch a hand over the stubble on my jaw, letting that sink in.
“I know, right?” Mom beams. “I guess he didn’t have a lot of family around growing up and wasn’t close to his parents, so he loves our large, tight-knit family.”
Just the fact he doesn’t have a strong family unit, but loves ours, warms me toward him. I have no idea what a world without my family would look like. Hell, I’d hate to imagine it. Boring is a word that comes to mind, because they’ve been the center of my universe for as long as I can remember. Even football comes second, and I fucking love football. If my family needs me, I drop everything to be there. No questions asked. In fact, the fall football season has been somewhat of a struggle because I can’t run home constantly like I did in the summer. Now that we’re in season, Coach is far more demanding. I barely have enough time to take a shit, let alone visit the brood. Part of me will be relieved when the season ends and I’m available to help out more.
The clacking of heels on the hardwood floor echoes toward us, and I straighten.
Beside me, my mom inhales, fussing with her hair and smoothing a hand over her blouse, before she plucks off a piece of nonexistent lint. I can practically feel the nerves emanating from her at the prospect of meeting Garry’s only child.
I know nothing about her. Only that he sometimes calls her Bug, and we’re about the same age. From what I’ve been told, Garry’s divorce wasn’t amicable, which took a toll on their relationship. Makes me wonder how well my mom will be received by her.
I reach out and give my mom’s hand a squeeze, nervous on her behalf, as I train my gaze toward the sound of footsteps.
Garry fills my line of vision first, blocking the view of his daughter who’s following directly behind him. I can barely make out the top of her head, she’s so short, so when he reaches us and steps aside, I freeze.
My eyes widen in shock as I take her in. The chocolate chin-length bob and the bangs framing her face. Dark eyes. Pert little nose. Full lips I know firsthand are almost always pursed in a perpetual pout.
Her espresso eyes home in on my mother first before flickering to me, and she stiffens. All the blood drains from her face, leaving her already fair complexion pastier than the tub of glue I used to eat in preschool.
“Barb, Chris”?Garry spins around, beaming at her as he waves an arm in her direction?“I’d like you to meet my daughter, Charlotte.”
#
The corners of my lips tip into a smile at the sight of Charlotte’s shell-shocked expression. Though I’m every bit as surprised as she is standing face-to-face with me, I’m a little better at hiding my shock.
“Chris?” She blinks three times before shaking her head. “No. Just no.” She glances up at her father, then back to me again. “Is this some kind of joke?”
Garry’s forehead wrinkles, clearly confused as he glances between us, but he doesn’t have time to answer before her gaze whips back to me again. “Did you follow me here or something?”
I snort and roll my eyes. “Yeah, because that makes sense, considering I’ve already been here for thirty minutes.”
And she thinks I’m the dummy.
She brings her fingers to her temples, a pained expression taking over the shock etched in her delicate features. “Oh my god, this cannot be happening. Please tell me this is a dream, a very, very bad dream.”
Beside me, my mom shifts, exchanging a panicked look with Garry that I can’t ignore.
“It’s cool, right?” I ask, forcing a smile and hoping Charlotte plays along. I mean, she can’t be completely oblivious at how her less-than-enthused reaction might upset our folks.
“Cool?” Charlotte scoffs, blinking at me like I’m crazy, and even though I’m kind of used to her looking at me like that?with a mixture of disdain and disgust?right now is not the time.
“Does somebody want to tell us what’s going on here?” Garry asks at the same time I step forward and grip Charlotte’s arm in my hand.
“A word, please?” I ask, ignoring him and dragging her from the room and down the hall.
“Hey!” she protests.
With a growl, she yanks her arm back, but she’s no match for my iron grip.
Once we’re out of earshot, I spin around to face her and hiss, “What the hell, Lettie?”
She reels back like she’s been slapped. “First of all, don’t call me that. Second, right back at you, buddy!” She pokes finger in my chest.
“My mom was so stoked to meet you. She’s been nervous for days, ever since she called me with the invite because she’s scared to death you won’t like her, and that’s your reaction as soon as you walk in?” I say, waving a hand toward the hallway.
Charlotte crosses her arms over her chest, those cocoa eyes flashing like bombs. “Oh, I’m sorry, but when I walk into my father’s house and find you standing there, what the hell do you expect?” She huffs and blows her bangs out her face while I stare down at her with a frown.
She swallows, then glances in the direction of the kitchen as she chokes out, “So, is this for real? Our parents?”
“You still think it’s a joke?”
“I mean, it kinda feels like one.”
“Well, it’s not,” I bark out. “And right now, they’re out there wondering what the hell is going on?”
“Then why’d you pull me out here?” she snaps back.
“Because I was trying to stop you from acting like a jackass.”
Her jaw drops. “You’re calling me the jackass?” She points to her chest.
“You heard me, but while we’re on the subject, let me fill you in. There’s this thing called manners, and when you meet someone for the first time, especially someone who is important to someone you love, you’re supposed to smile and shake their hand, say hello or nice to meet you . Things like that.”
She snorts, and I’m not sure which part of what I said she has a problem with. Maybe all of it.
“Now, let’s go back out there and act like adults. Be nice. Put on a happy face,” I say, turning the corners of her mouth up with my fingers until she resembles the Joker.
I stifle a laugh and release her, watching as her mouth quickly morphs back into a scowl. “No arguing with me. No rude comments or smart retorts, and act like you don’t hate the universe and everything in it for just one night.”
“I am not rude,” she protests, and I arch a brow. “At least not all the time. Only when people deserve it.” She points at me. “ And I do not hate the universe. Just mostly you.” She cocks her head as if considering. “Okay, and maybe the majority of the male population.”
I guffaw. “Prove it.”
“Oh, I’ll prove it, alright,” she says, eyes narrowing. “I’ll be as sweet as sugar and as sticky as honey. I’ll be so sweet; in fact, I’ll give you a freaking toothache!”
I barely restrain my eye roll. “I’m serious. My mother cares a lot about your father, which means she cares a lot about you, so don’t blow this for her or I’ll fucking haunt your dreams, Lettie, I swear.”
“That’s frightening,” she grumbles. “You in my dreams?” She shudders, then asks, “Are we really doing this? Like, seriously?” I ignore her pained tone, shooting her a warning look in answer, and she sighs. “Fine.”
Taking the lead, she stalks back into the kitchen where Garry and my mother are standing, hands linked.
At the sound of our approach, they glance over at us, a question in their eyes.
Garry is the first to speak. “So, I take it you two know each other?”
“Sure do,” I say, reaching down and mussing the top of Charlotte’s head.
She swats at my hand, then forces a smile that borders on manic. “He’s my best friend’s boyfriend’s roommate,” Charlotte explains.
“Oh, how fun!” my mother exclaims. “Jace is such a nice boy. I’ve only met him once, but he’s a real charmer.”
“Yeah. I thought maybe some of that charm would rub off on Chris by now, but . . .” She glances up at me, smirking. “Hasn’t happened yet.” Tearing her gaze away, she steps forward, hand outstretched. “I’m Charlotte, by the way. And you’re Barbie?”
My mother smiles, taking her hand. “Please, Barb is fine.”
“Right.” Charlotte nods, then rocks back on her heels, glancing up at her father. “So, you and Chris have met before?” She motions between us.
“Yeah. Barb and I stopped by for a visit last month and took Chris to lunch. I tried to call you, but you didn’t answer,” he says.
Charlotte crosses her arms over her chest while she peers up at me. “Funny. I don’t think you mentioned it.”
“That’s probably because I didn’t make the connection since he never mentioned you by name, and your surnames are different.”
Garry clears his throat, explaining, “After the divorce, Charlotte took her mother’s maiden name.”
Charlotte’s cheeks pinken, which lets me know there’s a story there, and she glances around the kitchen like she’s looking for the closest escape route. “Great. So . . .”
Silence settles between us.
Garry shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants, shooting nervous glances toward his daughter while my mom fidgets with the stem of her wine glass.
It’s awkward as fuck.
My stomach growls, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Garry and my mom laugh while Charlotte rolls her eyes.
Deciding to move this birthday dinner along, I rub a hand over my stomach and say, “I think that means it’s time to eat.”