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My parents stood to clear the plates. “Here, let me help with that,” I said.
“Oh no,” Dad said. “We've got it.” He pecked Mom on the cheek, and she fluttered her eyelashes at him in exaggeration.
I loved their love. They might've been married forever, but they still acted like teenagers in love sometimes.
The silence between Matt, Connor, and me was thick and palpable. I shifted in my seat as Connor excused himself to the bathroom. I stared at my hands, with Connor out of the room, the dining room felt even more stifling.
“Becca,” Matt said, touching my arm. “Both you and Connor have been miserable since I meddled. I want you to know I am so sorry. I invited him tonight so you could have a chance to talk.”
“So you're meddling again?” I narrowed my eyes at him. I wasn't mad though, in fact, the stubborn knot in my throat loosened a little.
He laughed. “Yeah, last time, I promise. Just hear him out, okay?” He stood, kissed me on the top of my head, and went into the kitchen with our parents.
My stomach flipped like an Olympic gymnast performing a floor routine. The urge to run to my car without saying bye was strong. But, I couldn't do that though. My parents would be more than confused.
“Becca.” Connor's voice was raspy and sexier than ever. He appeared from the hallway his hand in his pocket.
That knot in my throat tightened again. Did I really want to know what he had to say?
17
Connor
YESTERDAY
The dim lighting and low hum of conversations at the local bar created an atmosphere that was almost soothing. I nursed a beer, my eyes scanning the room as I waited for Matt to show up. True to his form, he wanted me to meet him, and he was late.
This meeting could go one of two ways: either we'd come to some sort of understanding—or he'd punch me in the face for daring to fall for his sister. I hoped for the former but mentally prepared for the latter.
“Connor,” Matt said, sliding onto the stool next to me. He motioned to the bartender for a drink, his expression serious.
“Matt.” I took a swig from my beer, trying to keep my voice steady. My heart rate sped up like I’d just raced four miles.
“Thanks for meeting me. I owe you an apology.” He exhaled slowly, rubbing his hand over his face. “I shouldn't have interfered with your relationship with Becca. It wasn't my place.”
I blinked, surprised by his sudden honesty. That wasn’t what I’d expected when he’d texted me that he wanted to meet up. “Well, I appreciate you saying that.”
“I misjudged you, Connor.” Matt turned to look me in the eyes, his gaze intense. “I've never seen you so affected by a woman before. It's clear how much you care about her.”
It was true I had never felt this deeply for anyone before. That’s how I knew Becca was different. I didn’t know exactly when she went from Matt’s-annoying-little-sister-Scooter, to love-of-my-life-Becca, but she became the woman I’ve been in love with longer than just a month ago.
“Rebecca means everything to me. My feelings for her are real, and I want to commit to her.” My heart raced as I confessed this to Matt, hoping he'd understand.
“Good, because she deserves someone who'll treat her right.” Matt paused, taking a sip of his drink. “Listen, we're having a family dinner tomorrow night, and I'd like you to come. It's time we all put this behind us and move forward.”
“Thanks, Matt.” Nervous energy coursed through me, but I accepted his invitation, eager to see Rebecca again. She had only answered a handful of my calls and texts over the last couple of weeks.
The following evening, I arrived at the Grant home a little late, clutching a bouquet of roses as a peace offering. As Mrs. Grant graciously accepted the flowers, I couldn't help but notice the tension in the air and the expectant looks from both Rebecca and Matt. I forced myself to maintain a calm demeanor, but inside I was a tornado of nerves.
Throughout dinner, I caught myself stealing glances at Rebecca, her hazel eyes locking onto mine with a mix of longing, hurt, and affection. Damn, I hated that I’d put the hurt in her eyes. As the evening progressed, the atmosphere around the table relaxed, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Damn, I’d missed the Grants.
When I was a kid, I’d spent a lot of time at the Grant house. They’d always treated me like one of their own. Hopefully, it will still be that way when they find out Rebecca and I are together. If she even wants to be with me.
As Mr. and Mrs. Grant excused themselves from the table to clean up after dinner, there was an awkward tension building in the air. It was just Matt, Rebecca, and me left at the dining table, and my palms were starting to sweat. I needed a moment to gather my thoughts and get my nerves under control.
“Excuse me for a minute,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant as I pushed my chair back and made my way to the bathroom.
Once inside, I took a deep breath and stared at my reflection in the mirror. “You can do this, Connor,” I muttered to myself, willing my racing heart to slow down. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the tiny wooden deer I had carved, a representation of Rosie. It wasn’t perfect—I was still learning to whittle wood—but it was the thought that counted. At least, that’s what Mrs. Grant used to say.
