17. SARAH
My clammy palms grip the leather wheel as my stomach twists into a thousand knots. I rest my forehead against the smooth steering wheel, idling in the street out front of Paul’s family home, or more like mansion, surrounded by a pristine metal gate and perfectly trimmed bushes slightly covered by last night’s dusting of snow.
What am I doing here?
I won’t fit in with these people. I know I won’t because Paul has two things that I’ll never have.
Money.
And a family.
Paul offered to drive me, but I didn’t want to risk appearing as more than friends to his family, so I told him I’d meet him here. Besides, I wasn’t lying when I told him I wanted to take things slow because I had things to figure out. Things like how to get Greyson to end his blackmailing tirade over me. There has to be a way. I know there is. I just haven’t been able to figure it out yet.
But I will.
I just need time.
And once I figure it out, I’ll be able to tell Paul everything.
And I mean everything—no more lying.
The wrath I’ll face from Paul for holding out on this information will be understandable, but I did it for both of us. Actually, make that the three of us. And I hope he’ll be able to forgive me.
I internally shake my head, knowing this isn’t the time to think about this. Instead, I need to focus on the task at hand: Thanksgiving dinner with Paul’s family.
My stomach recoils, nerves eating away at me. I can’t even remember the last time I celebrated Thanksgiving.
My mom always taught me never to arrive empty-handed, which is why there is a pathetic-looking pumpkin pie sitting on the seat beside me. It was the only thing I could afford with my bills getting bigger and bigger after each doctor appointment and each new thing I was learning online that I needed to buy to be ready for a baby.
My chest tightens as the daily financial panic plays out in my head, reminding me that I won’t be able to do this.
I’m going to fail.
Even with my lists, spreadsheets, and binders, it’s inevitable. Because if I can barely afford to take care of myself, how am I going to—
Tap. Tap.
I startle, slamming my hand down on the horn for a split second. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Taking a deep breath, I sit up and turn to the window beside me to find Paul taking my breath away in a pair of black slacks and a button-down green shirt with the sleeves rolled up a bit over his muscular forearms. Holy hell.
He smiles, motioning for me to roll down the window, which I do. And yes, I have to crank down the window because my car is an ancient relic.
After the window is down, I face straight ahead as Paul leans in, placing his large hands over the window ledge.
“How’s it going?” His deep voice reverberates in the tiny space, sending a shiver across my skin.
I nod. “Good. Really good.”
“I see you brought a pie.”
“Yup. Pumpkin.”
“That’s one of my favorites.”
“Good. Good.” I nod again like a damn idiot.
“Sarah?”
“Yes?”
His hand gently wraps around my chin, turning my head to the side so my eyes lock with his. “Were you planning on coming inside, or did you want to stay out here during dinner?”
I let out a deep breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding in. “I’m just…nervous.” My eyes fall on my outfit that I’m now completely second-guessing. Maybe I should have used what was left on my emergency credit card to buy something that made me more presentable than this old beige sweater dress. But it was the only thing in my closet that covered my tattoos. “I don’t think I’m going to fit in very well,” I admit.
“Why?” he asks.
I let out a little chuckle. “No offense, Paul, but your house might be bigger than the White House. And here I am, showing up in a seventeen-year-old car with a dress I’ve had for as long as I can remember and a pie that, honestly, might have passed its expiration date.” I push away from his hand and smooth out my hair. “This was a bad idea. I should probably go. I don’t want to hold your family up. They’re probably waiting for you.”
Paul laughs, shaking his head. “Oh, you stubborn woman.” With extreme precision, Paul swiftly opens my door, reaches inside, turns off my car, and unbuckles my seat belt. The warmth from his breath caresses my cheek as he gets right up in my face. “I don’t give a fuck what kind of car you’re driving or what you’re wearing. I don’t care if that pie is a day old or two weeks old. I’ll still eat every last bite because you brought it. The only thing I care about is that you’re here.” He grabs the pie and backs away, putting his free hand out for me to take, which I hesitantly do. “And they’re not waiting for me. They’re waiting for you. My mom, for one, is very excited to meet you.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry. I told everyone you’re just a friend.” His lips press against my forehead as his hand cups my cheek, his thumb gently stroking back and forth. “Don’t ever think for a second that I care how much money you do or don’t have. That shit has never mattered to me and never will.”
A small smile graces my face from his words. I’ve never felt like I’ve had to be anyone but myself when I’m with him, and that’s exactly how I feel right now. I feel like me.
I brush down my dress and straighten the black belt around my waist. “Do I look okay?”
“Well, honestly, I would prefer you not wear anything, but I suppose since you’re meeting my family, clothes are required.”
My cheeks blaze as I lightly smack his chest. “Paul!”
“You look beautiful, Sarah.” His fingers push back a piece of my hair. “I love it when you blush. It lets me know that even when you pretend you don’t feel this thing between us, you do. And it gives me hope.”
My heart hammers in my chest. “Paul, I—”
His eyes look over my head. “We better go inside. We have an audience.”
I turn around, finding several pairs of eyes watching from one of the main windows before the curtains quickly close.
We laugh as Paul’s hand finds mine, leading me toward the most enormous oak door I have ever seen.
As we step inside, I remove my hand from Paul’s and pull down my dress, ensuring it covers everything, even the tattoos on my thighs.
“You can all come out now,” Paul announces, walking farther inside.
My eyes dart around the massive space before me. There’s a white spiral staircase that looks like a workout to get to the top, crown molding, a chandelier, pristine furniture, and…paintings. Distracted, I approach the painting on the wall closest to me.
Clearly, someone very talented made this piece as they perfectly captured every emotion felt with each color and brushstroke.
Paul’s significant presence approaches me from behind. “Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful.” I tilt my head to the side, trying to read the signature on the bottom. “Who is the artist?”
Paul reaches out, brushing his finger over the black scribble. “My mom.”
I turn to him, my mouth agape. “Your mom’s an artist?”
He nods, smiling. “Who did you think let us use their art studio?”
My eyes widen, horror filling me. “We had sex in your mom’s art studio?” I whisper-yell, looking around to make sure no one just heard that.
He shrugs.
“And may I ask where you put the evidence of our…art session?”
Please don’t say in his family’s living room.
“Ahh. That is a surprise for another day.” He winks with a mischievous grin, tapping my nose.
“Paul!” I scold, running a hand down my face. “If someone sees my ass print, I think I might die of embarrassment.”
Paul laughs loudly. “Baby girl.” His knuckles stroke my jawline as he looks down at me. “No one gets the privilege of seeing your ass except me.”
He kisses the top of my head just as heels clicking against the hardwood floor approach us.
“Well, there you two are!”
Quickly, I take a step away, distancing myself from Paul while setting a clear boundary between us.
A petite woman with perfectly coiffed blonde hair, a warm picturesque smile, and the friendliest pair of light blue eyes I’ve ever seen approaches. It’s not hard to see who Paul did not get his height from.
“Sarah, I’m so glad you could join us. Paul has told me so much about you.” Her arms wrap around me, and I freeze, unfamiliar with the gesture from a stranger. Paul smiles, tipping his head toward me, letting me know it’s okay to reciprocate. My arms move on their own accord, wrapping around her slender frame.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Weston.”
“Oh, please, just call me Kathy.” She smiles as she separates, glimpsing up at her son beside me. There’s no way I can refer to her by her first name when she looks like she could be a freaking First Lady. It feels inappropriate. “Paul, you didn’t tell me she was this beautiful.”
“Jesus, Mom.” His cheeks redden as he pinches the bridge of his nose.
Suddenly, two guys, equally as tall as Paul, with the same light brown skin color, walk up from behind his mom.
“Hi, I’m Paul’s older brother, Ray.” Ray pushes up his thick-framed glasses before reaching out his hand toward me. He’s lean, just like Paul, with the same short hairstyle faded on the sides, but the most noticeable difference is their eyes. Where Paul’s eyes are a deep chocolate brown, Rays are a soft shade of honey. They suit him nicely.
I take his hand, smiling.
A little boy runs up to Ray, stretching his hands in the air, signaling he wants to be picked up.
“And this guy is Lucas, my son.”
“Hi, Lucas.” I smile at him and wave.
He quickly waves and bashfully hides his face into Ray’s chest, giggling.
“He’s a bit of a flirt. Takes after his father, if you ask me.” A tall, slender woman with a deep tan and long, flowing dark hair that surpasses her waist enters the room, appearing as a picture of elegance. “Hi, I’m Tina, Ray’s wife.” I extend my hand toward her, but she swats it aside and wraps me up in a hug.
I guess this family is filled with huggers.
“And I’m Kevin,” the second guy says as he scoops me up in his massive arms, bringing me up to a height I’ve never seen before. It’s immediately evident that Kevin likes to go to the gym. His body is muscular and beefy, unlike his two older brothers, who stare at him as he swings me around.
“Put her down, Kevin. She’s not a damn doll for you to play with,” Paul scolds.
Kevin gracefully places me back on the ground. “Well, someone is a little possessive over his friend.”
Paul’s hand wraps around my waist, pulling me in beside him. “I don’t share.”
“You never were good with sharing growing up. Guess that’s one thing that never changed.” Kevin winks at me.
“Now, now, boys,” Mrs. Weston admonishes. “Play nice, please. It’s Thanksgiving.”
“Yes, Mom,” all three say in unison, causing me to stifle a laugh.
“Uncle Kevin! Uncle Kevin! Pick me up like that!” Lucas wraps himself around Kevin’s leg, begging for his turn in his arms.
“Okay, little man. But no getting sick this time,” Kevin remarks as he lifts Lucas.
“I was three when that happened. I’m older now. I’m almost four,” Lucas reminds him.
Mrs. Weston laughs at the scene before her. “Well, what are we all waiting for? Let’s go stuff our faces!”
“Here! Here!” Ray and Kevin cheer in unison, leading the way into the dining room, everyone else following closely behind.
Paul pulls me aside before entering the room. “Everything okay so far? Is this too much for you?”
I shake my head, smiling. “No. This isn’t too much.” I give a half shrug. “Your mom wasn’t what I expected.” Releasing a breath, I confess, “When I got here and saw the size of your home, I envisioned getting ambushed by judgmental snobs, but she was…so warm and welcoming. Your whole family is, and it wasn’t what I anticipated.” I swallow down my emotions, giving Paul my best attempt at a smile. “They seem really great.”
“They are.” He smiles. “I’m lucky to have them.” Paul’s lips press against my temple as his hand finds mine. “Let’s go eat. But I’m saving room for dessert.”
“Please tell me you’re not talking about that horrible pie I brought?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. I’m not talking about the pie. I’m talking about you.” He winks as he enters the room, leaving me completely and utterly weak in my damn knees.