Chapter Twenty
Two
Her brother wants to meet me.
Officially.
And apparently, I should be scared.
Gemma fidgets nervously in the passenger seat of my car. She checks her phone for the millionth time.
“He’s not going to beat me up,” I say, gassing it when the light turns green. “You can stop panicking.”
“You don’t know Dempsey. He’s a punch first, ask questions later kind of guy. Plus, he’s super protective over me. Our only saving grace is Sloane will be there to run interference.”
I reach over and take her hand in mine, squeezing it. “It’ll be fine. If shit gets tense, I’ll start talking about Cedarwood Mansion. That usually does the trick to put the mere mortals to sleep.”
She snorts out a laugh. “Turn there. And you’re right. I can imagine the utter look of boredom on my brother’s face. He slept through most of his classes in high school. Just pretend you’re his professor.”
I’m glad that she seems to lighten up as we make our way through her brother’s neighborhood. Our final destination is a small home with Dempsey’s nice-ass car parked out front beside a police SUV.
We’re barely out of the car when a dog comes barreling our way, barking animatedly. I scoop the hyper little thing up and hug it to me.
“Hey there, pup.”
“That’s my niece, Beauty,” Gemma says, scratching the dog behind the ears. “She was so tiny weeks ago and now she’s this giant thing. They say she’ll keep growing too.”
The dog seems to be a mix of Golden Retriever and something else. Maybe a husky. Either way, she’s cute and goofy. I love her immediately.
All happiness at the furry greeting fades as tension pulsates behind me. I turn around, Beauty still in my grasp, to find Dempsey several steps away, glowering at me.
“Be nice,” Gemma growls.
Her growls are as vicious as this goofy pup’s probably are.
“I didn’t say anything,” Dempsey growls back, definitely with more promise of a bite.
“Two, this is my twin, Dempsey. Demps, this is my, uh, boyfriend, Two.”
I glance over at her, unable to keep the grin off my face at how she introduces me.
“‘Sup,” I say with a lift of my chin.
A blond woman comes up behind Dempsey, steps past him, and offers me her hand. “Sloane.”
Her clipped, brisk tone makes me bristle more so than Dempsey’s asshole-ish one.
“Detective,” Dempsey adds smugly.
Gemma smacks her brother and then gives Sloane an exasperated look. “He’s rubbing off on you, girl. Be nice to Two. He’s good people. Can we go inside now?”
The intensity crackling in the air dissipates quickly as we start herding our way inside. I’m grateful for the pup, who won’t stop licking my jaw like it’s a lollipop. She’s a sweet distraction from this uncomfortable encounter. Once inside, my stomach grumbles with hunger. The scent of decadent garlic and cheese fills my nostrils.
“Damn,” I mutter. “Smells good in here.”
“Demps is a fantastic cook,” Sloane says with pride, no longer playing the grumpy cop lady part. “It’s the only reason I agreed to marry him.”
Dempsey chuckles, his hackles also no longer raised. “I can think of another big reason.”
Sloane gapes at him, cheeks burning pink. “Go check on the bread, Troublemaker.”
I glance around the small, homey living room. It’s nice but not as nice as I’d expect for someone in Gemma’s family to live. Hell, my house is nicer than this one and we’re not millionaires like the Parks. Regardless, I like the space. It’s decorated with cool artwork on the walls—a few pieces are of people, one of which is Sloane in a navy-blue dress.
“I like your art.”
Sloane grins at me, wide and beautifully. Even though she’s a lot older than Dempsey, I can see why he’s attracted to her. “Dempsey. He’s a man of many talents.”
Beauty yelps and squirms, so I put her down. Then I walk over to admire the illustration.
Gemma takes my hand and leans her head against my shoulder. “Sorry for the less than friendly introduction. They’re good people, I promise.”
I squeeze her hand. “I’m good, Golden. Swear it.”
A moment later, Dempsey announces dinner is ready. I wash up at the sink to rid myself of the puppy smell and then take a seat across from Dempsey at the square table with Sloane on my left and Gemma on my right. I take a moment to scan my gaze over the spread. Lasagna, Caesar salad, garlic cheese bread. My stomach grumbles again.
“Mom’s a way better cook,” Dempsey states, “right, sis? But I learned a few tips and tricks from the old lady.”
Sloane gasps. “Call her old again and I’ll haul you in for elderly abuse.”
He cracks up laughing and I can’t help but smile too. Gemma, used to her brother’s antics, just rolls her eyes as she starts making a plate. The conversation is light and friendly as we all make grabs at the delicious-looking food. Once I take my first bite of lasagna, I decide I can get along with Dempsey so long as he cooks for me again.
“This shit is good,” I say around a huge mouthful of food. “Really good.”
Dempsey starts cackling and it’s aimed at Gemma. “Where’d you find this one? A barn?”
I flip him off, fully aware that I’m shoveling food in and dribbling sauce down my chin. I’ve always been a messy eater. It’s part of my charm, what can I say.
“We’re still working on domesticating him,” Gemma says, tossing a napkin at me. “He’s a good boy, though. Aren’t you, buddy?”
I flip her off next.
Sloane starts to laugh, so I go ahead and give her the bird to make it a trifecta.
Despite all the ribbing, all of it aimed my way, I find myself relaxing. Dempsey is just protective of Gemma and I have no issues with that. Sloane is a cop, so it’s in her nature to be suspicious. I like both of them and will make an effort because of Gemma.
“Just wait until Mom and Dad see him eat,” Dempsey says with a chuckle. “I’d pay money to capture Mom’s stunned reaction.”
I stiffen and Gemma tears off a piece of her bread, not making eye contact with her brother.
“What?” Dempsey demands, humor dissipating immediately.
“We’re, uh, not ready for the whole ‘meet-the-parents’ schtick.” Gemma shrugs her shoulders like it’s no big deal.
Sloane’s eyes narrow as she studies Gemma. “You’re awfully secretive lately. You know you can tell us anything.”
Gemma’s guilty expression gives her away. Before she can continue to dig herself deeper, I throw myself on the grenade for her.
“It’s because of me,” I blurt out and then shove another bite of lasagna into my mouth. “I don’t want to meet them.”
“Oh God,” Gemma grumbles under her breath.
“Why the hell not?” Dempsey demands, fire in his tone.
“I don’t want to.” I shrug, swipe the napkin over my lips, and take another massive bite. “That simple.”
Dempsey’s fork clatters to the plate as he glares daggers at me. “You’ve got a fucking attitude, you know that?”
“Demps,” Sloane says softly, touching his arm. “Chill.”
“It’s not that simple,” Gemma states, rushing in to my aid now. “His parents know our parents. It’s a whole thing. We’re not that serious anyway. No sense in bringing the whole family into our relationship when it may not last the semester.”
I flinch at her words, blinking at her. “Right. Good to know how you really feel, Golden.”
She deflates, hurt pinching her pretty features.
“It is serious, dumbasses,” Dempsey argues. “Don’t play me for stupid. There’s something either of you isn’t saying. Out with it already. Stop bullshitting us.”
Gemma bites down on her bottom lip and shrugs. “It’s not my story to tell.”
Except it is her story to tell.
She is the story.
“I’m seconds from wringing both their necks to get them to talk,” Dempsey utters to Sloane. “Got any interrogation tactics that might be more effective?”
Sloane ignores him, eyes boring into me. I shift under her unnerving stare.
“What’s the ‘whole thing’ between your parents? Elaborate.” Sloane abandons her fork to cross her arms over her chest. “May as well come clean and get it out in the open. Tate says talking—”
My scowl falls away as a grin tugs at my lips. “You see Tate too?”
“He’s my therapist, so yeah,” Sloane says.
“And he’s our soon-to-be brother-in-law,” Gemma and Dempsey both say at the same exact time, creeping me out with their “twin-ness.”
I recover from that to realize the depth of their words. “Wait. Tate’s family to you?”
The three of them nod in unison.
Betrayal burns hot in my chest, licking at my cheeks. The lasagna in my belly roils violently. Was this all some sort of trick? Have they all been playing me?
“You know Tate too?” Gemma asks slowly, eyes darting all over me in concern. “What’s wrong?”
I don’t sense anything other than curiosity in her tone. Maybe they’re not all out to get me and it’s just a huge fucking coincidence. Story of my life. Gemma is a walking, talking example of that.
Scrubbing my palm over my face, I sit back in my chair and look up at the popcorn-textured ceiling. Dad would shit his pants if he saw the ceiling and would have Pops out in no time to scrape it away.
The thought of my parents further sours my gut.
“Tate’s my therapist. I, uh, told him all about Golden—er, Gemma. I didn’t realize you all were connected.” I drop my chin and meet Dempsey’s probing stare. “I really liked him too, dammit.”
“You can still see him,” Sloane says gently. “He’s not one to talk about his other patients. You can trust him.”
We’ll see.
My trust in Tate went from ten to one in a matter of minutes.
“I’m adopted,” I blurt out, returning my stare to the hideous ceiling. “My parents adopted me when I was two, hence the nickname.”
The table is silent. Gemma reaches over to touch my hand. I want to jerk it away, the hurt of my past making me raw, but I draw strength from it instead. She threads our fingers together and squeezes my hand.
“When all the stuff was going down with Dad and Callum,” Gemma interjects softly, “Mom considered giving her baby up for adoption.”
“Of course she did,” Dempsey huffs. “I bet it was me, huh? They were going to keep you?”
Sloane shakes her head. “Jamie knew she was pregnant but didn’t know about the twins until much later on. Let them speak, Dempsey.”
For his credit, he clamps down, jaw muscle ticking, and nods my way.
“She must have got in contact with my dads somehow, though I don’t know all the backstory, and promised them a baby,” I explain, skin prickling with embarrassment. “Dad named her Gemma—this baby girl they were hoping for.”
“Oh,” Sloane murmurs. “She didn’t even tell me she considered adoption when she found out she was pregnant. Jamie was probably terrified—even too terrified to confide in her best friend.” Sloane slumps as though that thought physically wounds her. Maybe she can talk to Tate—the therapist for every-fucking-one—and sort that emotional shit out later.
“Your dad came through and they decided to keep the baby. Furthermore, to honor my parents, they decided to keep the name, Gemma, if it were a girl.” I rub at my temple that’s now throbbing. “You know how fucking crushed they must’ve been? They had a nursery set up for her. I saw the pictures.”
Dempsey watches me with pity.
Hell, they all do.
Gemma, for her part, also looks guilty.
This dinner with my “not really that serious” girlfriend has gone down the toilet all too quickly. I’m eager to get the hell out of here.
“Damn, dude,” Dempsey rumbles. “That’s…so fucked up.”
Unable to deal with their expressions any longer, I push back from the table, the wood legs screeching across the floor.
“I need a breather,” I grunt out. “I’ll be in the car, Golden.”
Without another word, I bolt.