9. Luke
CHAPTER 9
Luke
Don’t be yourself. Be a better version of yourself.
Picture it, Luke. And don’t let anything ruin it.
Never in my life have I ever wanted someone to like me more than Jakub Bankowski. With sweaty fucking palms, I take a step forward and reach out my hand for him to shake. “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Lucas Palmer. Happy Thanksgiving.”
Gigi’s dad eyes me with disgust and returns my greeting with a grunt. A stark difference from how he greeted his daughter just five minutes ago. If he’s upset knowing that I’m dating Gigi, wait until he finds out what she’s hiding under her baggy sweater. As far as I know, she told him we were together when she was in New York over the summer, but only her grandma knows about the pregnancy.
I might be dead after this dinner.
This man might murder me.
“Jakub Bankowski.” His grip is tight, like he’s trying to prove a point. Establish dominance. It’s working because I feel like there’s a rock stuck in my throat.
“I’m so glad that you were able to make it to Kinsdale Springs this year, Dad!” Gigi swoops in to salvage what’s left of our night, her voice chirpy. “Does everyone hate me that I’m not coming? That you’re here instead?”
As if he has a split personality, Jakub shakes his head and smiles. “Of course not, honey. But they all miss you. The last time you were in New York, you spent half of your trip lying in bed with that stomach flu.”
Gigi and I both grimace. It was morning sickness, but okay . She sends me a death glare and communicates with her eyes. Don’t start now, Luke. Time and place for everything .
Jakub and Bianca, to my surprise, get along well. Even better than Bianca and my dad. As Gigi and I set the table, Gigi’s mom brings all of the side dishes from the kitchen, and Jakub dutifully helps her with carrying the heavier stuff. I breathe out a loud exhale when I spot my own father, Bianca’s current husband and host of this dinner, perched on the kitchen counter doing nothing. Even my ten-year-old sister is pitching in, taking out the condiments from the fridge and giving them to me for placing.
The part where we hold hands and say our prayers is awkward as hell. I know me and Dad have long given up on Jesus saving our souls, and Gigi is only Catholic during Christmas and Easter—not Thanksgiving. The other three, though, are really into being grateful to the higher power. I bite my tongue when Gigi’s dad starts chanting an impromptu prayer to bless Gigi and her new siblings at the end.
“So, Giuliana,” Jakub says as he waves his fork in the air. “What is so important that I had to fly out here?” He closes his eyes and pauses for a second, crinkling his nose. “Please don’t tell me you are getting married to Luke.”
Well, shit. There goes my blessing.
Dad almost chokes on the turkey meat while Gigi’s mom does everything she can to not look at her ex-husband, shooting me an I’m sorry look.
“Not quite that.” Gigi chuckles as she fidgets with her napkin before shooting me a pained look, and then another one at her dad. “Um, well, Daddy, I’m pregnant.”
“With Luke.” Jakub digests the news as he digests his food, both in painful swallows.
“Yes, with Luke.”
“This Luke?” He points his fork at me.
“Yes, this Luke.”
“How far along are you?”
“Almost at the mid-mark,” she answers. Gigi presses the material of her clothing to her stomach, tightening the fit so that he can see her bump.
When Gigi’s dad doesn’t respond and only stares at his daughter’s belly in disbelief instead, my father chooses this moment to finally not be a silent participant in the conversation anymore, dropping another bomb on the table. “They’re having twins,” he deadpans. “It runs in my family.”
“How…how did this happen?” Jakub asks.
“I love your daughter, Mr. Bankowski.” Gigi is already blaming herself for the whole pregnancy as it is. I see it in her eyes every time she has to repeat this story. I’m taking a bullet for the team. “It was an accident, but we’re beyond happy.”
He looks like he’s about to punch me in the face but has the good grace to take his anger out on his wine instead, finishing his glass in one go. “Are you planning on stepping up and marrying my daughter?”
“Is it even legal?” my dad chimes in, and I wish he would just shut the fuck up.
“Yes,” Gigi and Bianca answer in unison.
Becca is snickering, watching everything unfold. The little punk is enjoying every minute of this. I roll my eyes and mouth the word brat to her. She grins.
“We’re not blood related,” I say, grinding my molars.
“But I don’t need to be married because I’m pregnant,” Gigi says, sighing. “You’re so old school, Dad.”
I’m about to ask Gigi why she’s so adamant on not marrying me when her dad starts speaking. “Gigi.” Her name comes out as a stern warning. “When your mother was pregnant with you, I asked her to marry me directly. On the spot. It’s the right thing to do.”
“I’m planning on doing the right thing,” I answer.
“When?” Gigi’s dad asks me with his eyes popped wide.
Ironic, good fucking sir, how you told me in the beginning of this meal that she better not be marrying me.
“You need to be baptized first, Luke!” I hear Gigi’s mom yell, overpowering the bickering of the other people on the table and Becca’s giggling. “You promised me you’d be a Catholic!”
Just when I thought this could not go any worse, my dad decides to open his mouth one more time and stir the pot even more. “Have you told your aunt and uncle that Gigi is carrying your children, Luke?”
Jesus Christ. “No, we’re no contact at the moment.”
Twin lines form between Dad’s eyebrows. “Why is that?”
“Why don’t you go ask Uncle Mike yourself?” And stop fucking talking about this in front of Gigi’s dad. He needs a good impression of us. Like we can take care of her. My biggest fear? He convinces Gigi to move back to New York. She has family there. A lot of people who love her and would drop everything to help her. If the rent there was as dirt cheap as it is in this part of America, I’d be tempted to do just that.
In the chaos of our parents talking over each other and trying their worst to decide what’s best for us, my gaze meets Gigi’s and I give her a smile. You okay? I mouth .
“Are you?” she asks in a low tone, not that it matters. Vince Palmer, Bianca Palmer, and Jakub Bankowski have resorted to yelling and talking over each other.
“I will be,” I tell her with a stupid grin on my face. “If you marry me.”
Gigi rolls her eyes from across the table, her foot kicking mine playfully. “Fuck off. You’re just scared of Dad.”
With Becca as our only witness since the parents are now fighting over which Jesus is the best, Christian Jesus or Catholic Jesus—not that it matters anyway since it’s the same fucking Jesus—I take the two steps across the table and squat next to Gigi, all smiles with my hand on her belly.
“Don’t let your dad kill me, Gi,” I say, grinning. “Just marry me already.”
“If you don’t even have a ring, Luke,” she states the obvious, smirking, “you better beg for it. It’s the right thing to do. ”
“Please?”
Gigi leans down so that her mouth is next to my ear. “But you’re going to be the one telling them that we’re going to have a courthouse wedding. Deal? I don’t want to go through the torture of the three of them wedding planning.”
I’ll take it.
Her mom is going to kill me. Her dad might help Bianca bury my body, but I’ll take it.
Picture it, Luke. And don’t let anything ruin it.