Chapter 16 #2
“Alex, I’m sure it will be great,” I offered her what I hoped was a comforting smile, but she looked about as convinced as someone facing a court martial. She shifted in her seat, flexing her feet back and forth, her mind seeming to evaluate every possible disaster scenario in a matter of seconds.
“I love my family, don’t get me wrong. They’re just… a lot.”
“You mentioned that,” I kept my voice steady, the way I used to talk nervous wingmen through rough weather. “I promise I’ve been in worse situations.”
“That didn’t involve being shot at, blown up, or kept in a medically induced coma?” She raised an eyebrow, her precise timing and dry delivery catching me completely off guard.
The laugh that escaped my throat was sharp and surprised, and her whole face lit up with delight.
She glanced back at the house just as Jason and the tiny mob reappeared, this time successfully tackling him to the ground in a writhing pile of squeals and limbs.
The dogs now bounced around the spectacle yapping wildly, and I wasn’t sure if it was in support or protest.
“That’s the chaos machine?” I nodded toward the carnage still rolling around on the front lawn, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice.
“That’s them,” she confirmed, tilting her head to watch the show as we cranked the windows closed.
“My aunts drove down from up north, and I think Marcus mentioned a handful of cousins and their kids were coming. Mom and her sisters insisted on inviting everyone. I think there might even be a great-grandkid or two in that pile somewhere.” She sighed dramatically, though her smile cracked through the mock despair.
“And to think, this used to be such a nice neighborhood.”
As I reached for my door handle, an obnoxiously red convertible whipped around the corner and pulled into the driveway.
Graham climbed out, checking his hair in his phone camera while he waited for Diana to get out.
Even from across the street, everything about him screamed “I have a tiny dick and I hope nobody finds out.”
I didn’t realize I’d balled my hands into fists until Alex’s palm smoothed over my knuckles, working her fingers between mine as the tension released.
“It’s fine,” her voice was carefully flat.
“It’s not fine,” I growled.
“You’re right. It’s not,” she relented. “But there’s nothing we can do about it right now. So we’ll just show everyone we’re the dream couple. Barbie and Ken.” She winked, “but with the good bits.”
That pulled another laugh out of me, and I squeezed her hand before climbing out. The evening air carried the rich scents of barbacoa and fresh bread, along with the distinctive cacophony of a family gathering in full swing.
I walked around to open her door, offering my hand as she climbed out.
She was wearing a bright blue jumpsuit with wide legs and a button front, the double belts emphasizing the indent of her waist. She’d chosen her worn leather Birkenstocks over heels—very Alex—and pulled her pink hair up in two high buns.
I caught myself staring longer than I should have as she moved her sunglasses to the top of her head.
“If you need a break, promise me you’ll tell me,” she didn’t let go of my hand as I shut her door, her touch clearly meant to anchor rather than cling.
“I promise,” I squeezed back before letting go to retrieve the large bowl of fruit salad we’d assembled at her house.
Once everything was locked up, I took her hand again and we started toward the house.
I tried to not think about the slight tremor she must have felt in my grip—nerves and anticipation instead of my brain, but still.
The voices from the backyard grew louder in a symphony of overlapping conversations, silverware clatter, and the distant sound of children’s laughter mixing with what sounded suspiciously like mariachi music.
Alex tugged gently, stopping me at the sidewalk. The chaos machine had moved to the backyard, but the energy they’d left behind seemed to vibrate in the air around us.
“What is it?” I turned to her, realizing her hand was shaking slightly as well.
She swallowed, licked her lips. “Steady,” she whispered, her eyes warm and certain.
The tightness in my chest loosened at the way she said it—a command and a reminder all at once. How did she already know me so well?
“Steady,” I nodded, pulling her closer. She fit against my side perfectly, and for a moment the tremor in both our hands settled. “Let’s do this.”
A familiar engine rumble announced Enzo’s Porsche before we saw it—the sleek silver car sliding smoothly into the space behind Alex’s Range Rover. Dom climbed out first, straightening his shirt, followed by Enzo who emerged already grinning like he’d just won the lottery.
“Well, well,” Dom called out as they crossed the street, his golden eyes taking in the way Alex and I stood together—her tucked under my arm, my hand resting protectively on her shoulder. “Look at you two. Practically glowing with all that fake domestic bliss.”
I flipped him off.
Enzo laughed, but his gaze sharpened as he studied us. “Dom’s not wrong. You both look disgustingly happy for two people who are pretending.”
Alex straightened but didn’t step away from me. “Maybe we’re just really good actors.”
“Sister, we work in Hollywood,” he flashed his shit-eating grin. “This isn’t acting.”
Before either of us could respond, he was already moving toward the house, Dom falling into step beside him and twining their fingers together.
“Come on,” he called over his shoulder, “before Papa sends out a search party. I think I spotted at least three different types of glue-gunned monstrosities from the car. We could’ve played ‘craft store or borrowed from church’ bingo. ”
As we followed them toward the backyard, I caught glimpses of what Enzo meant through the side gate—hand-painted banners strung between trees, tissue paper flowers in every color imaginable, and at least twenty years’ worth of mason jars wrapped in fairy lights or filled with flowers.
The contrast to Dom and Enzo’s sleek and shiny Hollywood engagement party couldn’t have been more obvious—or more genuine.
It was the kind of wholehearted, unhinged family celebration that money couldn’t buy, and I couldn’t help smiling despite my nerves.
Alex must have noticed my expression. “I had nothing to do with the decorating,” she said quickly. “Mom and my aunts took over completely. I was specifically uninvited from the planning committee after I suggested we keep it simple. They probably tried to put a hex on me too.”
“It’s amazing,” I grinned, meaning it. “He’ll kill me if he finds out I told you this, but Dom secretly loves this homemade hodge-podge sort of stuff. It reminds him of growing up.”
We made it around to the back of the house where a man I assumed was Tony appeared, wearing an oversized red apron emblazoned with “Grill Sergeant” and sporting a grin that decidedly meant trouble. So that’s where Enzo got it.
He engulfed Alex in a bear hug, his enthusiasm radiating warmth. He released her and immediately turned his megawatt grin on me, extending a hand.
“You must be Finn!” His grip was firm but controlled. “I’ve heard so much about you. Antonio Martinez, but everyone calls me Papa.” He gave a quick nod toward Alex. “Except our Sasha who likes to be stubborn.”
“Great to meet you, Papa,” I smiled, and his grin somehow got even brighter.
“Suck up,” Alex muttered under her breath. Tony barked out a laugh.
“And Dominik!” He spun toward my brother, already reaching for another bone-crushing embrace. “My handsome soon-to-be son-in-law! How are you holding up with all this wedding planning?”
Dom submitted to his hug, slapping Tony on the back. “Surviving, Papa. Enzo’s the one with all the opinions about flowers and seating charts.”
“La reina makes the decisions, sí?” Tony laughed, clapping his hand on his son’s shoulder hard enough to stagger a smaller man.
Behind us, the backyard unfolded in layers of bright decoration.
String lights crisscrossed between mature oak trees, their warm glow competing with tiki torches that cast dancing shadows across mismatched patio furniture.
Someone had draped every horizontal surface with fabric in oranges and yellows.
More decades-old mason jars filled with wildflowers and fairy lights were clustered on top.
An elaborate sound system occupied the far corner opposite what looked like a professional-grade outdoor kitchen. The music mixed with children’s laughter and the steady hum of conversation from at least thirty adults scattered across the space.
“Come, come,” Tony ushered us toward the crowd. “Everyone’s dying to meet Sasha’s new amante. And some of the aunts still haven’t gotten their hands on Dom properly.”
“You hear that, Dom?” I called over my shoulder. “More women who want to grope you.”
“Still more than want to grope you, a-hole!” Dom shot back.
Alex’s hand found mine, her fingers intertwining with casual possession that sent warmth up my arm. “My aunts will have questions. Lots of questions,” she murmured the warning.
“Joan, mi vida!” Tony bellowed across the yard. “They’re here!”
Alex’s mother appeared almost instantly, weaving through conversations and around wandering children. She had Alex’s sharp eyes and expressive hands, though her gray hair was styled in a way that probably hadn’t changed since the early nineties.
“There you are,” she reached for Alex, at least four inches shorter than her daughter. “I was starting to think you’d gotten lost.”
“Just fashionably late, Mom.” Alex accepted the hug that looked genuinely warm despite the scolding—but I caught the way Alex stiffened at the contact, suddenly understanding what she meant by not liking to be touched.
Joan’s attention shifted to me, pulling me into a hug whether I was ready or not. “And you must be Finn. I’ve heard quite a lot about you, though not from Sasha.”