Chapter 2
two
the cousin group chat
R yan sat with arms crossed on the big, overstuffed leather recliner in the living room, glaring at his father and brother as they waited for his mother to join them.
The lack of cars outside when he arrived and the quiet interior had set off alarm bells.
His gut insisted he’d walked into a trap, or else the rest of the family, all those aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, and great-whatevers, would be here to enjoy the food he smelled cooking in the kitchen.
At the DeMarco clan’s annual Christmas brunch, Ryan had politely declined his father’s invitation to join them for New Year’s dinner.
He’d hoped to hook up with the holiday hire before she went back to college in California in two weeks.
He should have figured out his parents’ plan earlier.
The clues had all been there. His parents had each called several times, but he’d never returned those calls. Instead, they’d sent their minion.
His older brother Alex had shown up at the bar where Ryan worked minutes before the New Year’s party officially started.
Immersed in the chaos of New Year’s Eve and with his arms around the holiday hire—what had been her name?
—Ryan’s stomach plummeted when he caught a glimpse of his brother.
His parents weren’t going to take no for an answer, apparently.
“What is it?” Ryan asked.
“You need to come for dinner tomorrow, Ry.”
“I don’t want to come for dinner tomorrow, Alex. I want to sleep and not deal with the parental bullshit.”
“Don’t make me do this.” Alex pulled out his phone and typed.
“Do what?”
“Invoke the cousin group chat.”
Fuck. That was at least a dozen people between his mom’s side, his dad’s side, and several second cousins, all living in and around Tucson. Best-case scenario, his phone would blow up with messages. Worst-case, they’d all crash the work party and make his night a living hell.
“Fine.” He slammed down a heavy beer mug and glared at Alex. “I’ll be there. Six?”
“Yeah, six will work. See you then, Ryan.”
His mother finally strode in, the tapping of her heels on the terracotta tile silenced by the colorful rug. She made herself comfortable on the couch next to Alex and shared a look with her husband. All eyes turned to Ryan.
“We are concerned about your future, sweetheart.” His mother’s expression was appropriately grave.
Oh, shit. His mother only called him “sweetheart” when she wanted something from him. Or when he was in serious trouble. Or when they told him his Nonna was dying. The warmth fled his body, leaving his hands cold.
“You graduated over five years ago and are still working as a bartender,” his father said. “I know it must be difficult to find a job with a degree in global studies, but have you even considered doing something with it?”
Alessandro DeMarco couldn’t keep the scorn out of his voice when mentioning Ryan’s one shining moment.
He had earned his BA in global studies, with honors, thank you very much, but for his father, he may as well had never gone to college.
If it wasn’t related to the family business, or an obvious career path like pre-med or pre-law, it didn’t count.
There were plenty of jobs with non-profits and government agencies for someone with his credentials, but he had other ideas.
“No, Dad, I’m just going to blow my trust fund and be a bartender for the rest of my life.”
His words had their desired effect. With his father’s reddened face and lowered brows, Ryan was once again in familiar territory. It seemed he’d spent his entire life on the wrong side of this man. Why should his late twenties be any different?
“You need to take this seriously, Ryan,” Alex said. “Do you want to work for tips for the rest of your life when you have other alternatives?”
“Better than wasting away in an office all day.”
The answer was quick and hot, laced with a venom he hadn’t expected of himself.
It was an old wound, an old argument. Ryan had never wanted to be part of the real estate empire his grandfather had started and his father had brought to fruition.
Half the reason he worked as a bartender was it pissed off his father to have a DeMarco working for tips.
The other half was he’d rather spend his time in more creative pursuits.
“You don’t leave me a choice, Ryan.” Alessandro’s voice was sharp and firm, the no-nonsense press of his lips sending Ryan right back to his teenage years.
“Your grandmother may have tolerated your attitude, but I won’t.
As of next month, you will no longer be receiving your allowance from the trust fund. ”
“But—”
His father held up a hand, and Ryan shut his mouth with a click of his teeth.
“The trust fund allows the trustee to release the remainder of your portion to you on your thirtieth birthday. Prove you can get your life in order before then, or I will redistribute your share to the other beneficiaries.”
That was over two years. Ryan stood with his hands fisted at his side. “You can’t do that!”
His father remained seated, calm as though he’d merely doled out mundane family news. This wasn’t his cousin dumping her boyfriend. This was his entire future. He had plans for the money. Important plans.
“I talked to my lawyer. I can, in fact, do that. All decisions regarding the trust fund are in my hands now that your grandmother is gone. And as you have yet to show any ambition or talent or desire to be a grown man, I’ve decided you won’t receive the money until you can prove otherwise.”
Ryan could try to fight this, but it would require the money he no longer had access to. He opened his mouth to protest again but closed it. His father had won this round.
Alessandro rose and stalked out of the room, leaving Ryan simmering in his anger. They sat in silence until the door to the office slammed shut.
“Mom…” Ryan turned to her with his best puppy-dog-eyed look, but her face hardened before any further words fell out of his mouth.
“Enough, sweetheart. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, but you had to push his buttons. You’ve managed to avoid any resemblance of adult responsibility thanks to your grandmother. She’s gone now, and your father is in charge of the family.”
Her words were a knife in the gut. Ryan itched to shout at her, tell her he wasn’t stupid.
Nonna was dead, but he still couldn’t get out those words.
He knew it in his head, but the idea hadn’t burrowed into his heart.
Until today. Today reminded him of how much his grandmother had truly meant to him.
She had been the only person in his entire family, including his aunts and uncles and all those cousins, who’d understood him.
Nonna was gone, and his father now had the ultimate authority over everyone’s future, including his.
“We only want what’s best for you.” His mother’s tone softened and became her usual conciliatory alto attempting to smooth over whatever damage his father had inflicted. She reached out a hand Ryan did not take.
“If you need a real job,” his brother said, “Val is leaving soon. We could use an office manager who is at least familiar with the family.”
“I have a job.” Ryan wished he could keep the snide tone out of his voice. It made him sound like a petulant teenager, but he was beyond pissed off.
What his family didn’t know was how lucrative bartending could be, especially at a busy, high-end restaurant.
And though he didn’t plan to bartend for the rest of his life, it was more flexible and more fun than anything the family business could offer.
His family wouldn’t understand—they were doers, not creators.
Ryan needed his trust fund allowance. Though it wasn’t enough to live on, it had financed his years of research and the equipment needed to turn his dream into a reality. He was a script away from seeing the fruits of his labor of love.
“Think it over.” His mother rose from the couch to head to the kitchen. “And you know where to find us.”
Once again, his mother failed him. Instead of backing him, of trying to support him, she took his father’s side. Every damn time. And if it wasn’t his father’s side, she took his brother’s.
“I don’t get it, Ry,” his brother said once their mother left. “Everyone enjoys working for DeMarco Properties. It’s a good company.”
“If I’d wanted to join the family business, I wouldn’t have majored in global studies. Real estate was never interesting to me, and I want more from life besides buying, selling, or renting property.”
Running DeMarco Property Management someday was Alex’s dream, not Ryan’s.
“Then do something with your degree. Show Dad you’re not going to waste your life.”
“That’s impossible. The only way he’s ever going to accept me as a grown-ass adult is if I work for him. And there will be a blizzard in Tucson before that ever happens.”
Ryan rose from his chair, and it rocked back and forth for a moment. The clicks and squeaks spoke volumes in the quiet between brothers.
“Would it really be so bad?” Alex asked, his voice even.
“Yeah, it would.”
Little by little, it would eat at him until nothing was left of his soul. Ryan stormed into the foyer where his motorcycle helmet stared at him from the entry table. He grabbed it and headed for the front door.
“Wait!” His brother’s voice echoed in the tiled entry.
Ryan hesitated, fingers on the door handle.
He could storm out, ignoring Alex and possibly causing an irreparable rift.
He’d never have to worry about pleasing his parents again or competing with his older brother.
Those activities had never gotten him anywhere, anyway.
But a small voice in his subconscious, which sounded suspiciously like his Nonna, reminded him family was important and shouldn’t lightly be tossed to the side. Ryan turned around.
“I’m not staying for dinner.”
Alex held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t think you would after that conversation.”
“Why did you drag me here?”
“I didn’t know they were going to ambush you before we ate. I would’ve told them it was a very bad idea. You get hangry.” A grin softened the words.
Ryan couldn’t help himself and grinned back.
“Listen, you don’t want to work for Dad, fine.” Alex leaned against the table where Ryan’s helmet had rested a moment earlier. “But I have a proposition for you.”
More alarm bells rang through his head. Alex’s propositions rarely turned out well for anyone other than Alex.
“Spit it out.”
“Mom keeps trying to set me up with the daughter of a friend. What if you call her instead?”
“Why not you? What’s wrong with her?”
“Do you even know how many of these dates Mom has tried to con me into? Listen, dude, you’d be doing me a favor and throwing them a bone at the same time.
Date someone you know they’d approve, instead of the women I know you pick just to piss them off.
If you do it, I’ll owe you, and they’ll see you’re trying. ”
A favor from Alex was an excellent thing to have in his back pocket, and what was one date?
Hell, maybe he’d even like her. Probably not.
He’d been surrounded by the daughters of his mother’s friends for most of his life.
He refused to date any of them since they didn’t want a casual hookup but a chance at the DeMarco fortune, or better yet, at his older brother.
What choice did he have? Ryan nodded in defeat.
“Great! I’ll send the number.”
Ryan turned to the door and opened it.
“Hey, Happy New Year!” Alex’s words seemed sincere.
“Happy New Year,” he muttered before stepping out into the chilly desert evening and pulling on his helmet.
The city lights sparkled in the valley below the Catalina Foothills, the last breath of the holidays coming to a close. He straddled his bike and started it, the engine rumbling beneath him.
What could go wrong with one date?