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Maxwell’s feathers fluffed up, wings spanning. “You shut up.”
Alice lunged, but Maxwell was quicker. He jumped with asquawk, flapping his wings all the way up to the small chandelier. It started to sway back and forth with the weight of his landing.
Julie had a palm pressed to her forehead, a flush rushing to her cheeks. “I am so sorry. They had a big fight just before you got here, and he’s still not calm,” she said to me before ordering Maxwell to get down. He wasn’t supposed to be up there, and he knew it.
The bird barked at her, refusing to cooperate.
Alice called him a glorified chicken.
He lost his fucking mind.
“I’m hungry. What’s for dinner?” Adrien said, leaning a shoulder against the wall with his hands stuffed into his pockets. Like this was just another regular evening with his family.
Maxwell chirped something about his mom making spaghetti, and Alice swatted at the chandelier with a throw pillow. “No quotingEight Mile!”
Maxwell squawked manically, wings flapping as he swayed. There was a chance that the chandelier was going to fall right onto Gampy’s head. Yet he stood there calmly, smiling.
“I actually did make spaghetti,” Julie admitted, sounding entirely resigned. “There’s also a variety of grilled meats and a few vegetarian options. We weren’t sure if you had any dietary restrictions, Ria, but I hope there’s something you like.”
I shook my head, clearing my throat. “That all sounds great. Thank you.”
Alice spun on her heel, throwing the weaponized pillow back onto the couch. “Yeah, I’m hungry too. Can we eat?”
Anthony rubbed his hands together. “Yup. Let’s go.”
Gampy looked up at Maxwell. “Come Maxy, dinner truce is on.”
The bird obeyed right away, flying down to his right shoulder.
And then they all started to file out of the room, laughing and chatting. I blinked after them, slightly dumbfounded.
“C’mon.” Adrien nudged my shoulder softly and we followed suit, the chandelier continuing to swing behind our backs.
* * *
Dinner was turning out to be… kind of epic.
There were a normal number of utensils, the food was incredibly delicious, and the entertainment was unrivaled. It was the opposite of what I’d been expecting.
Maxwell was smarter than most humans, and he knew it too. He and Alice had a hilarious rivalry thing going on, and when they weren’t butting heads, it was her and Adrien.
OrAddrainas Maxwell called him; also known asPoopy Shithead.
Alice cackled when that one came up. “I taught him that when I was six,” she claimed proudly, much to her grandfather’s amusement and mother’s visible dismay.
Adrien started to tell the both of them to go choke on a word that started with a big fat D but was cut off by the end of his grandfather’s cane poking into his ribs.
“Dinner truce,” Gampy reminded him. Maxwell—who had his own place set at the table beside Gampy—continued to eat his mangoes, completely unbothered by all the ruckus.
“So, Ria, tell us a bit about yourself,” Anthony said as soon as his kids had enough food in their mouths to be quiet. “And start from the beginning. Adrien has been annoyingly secretive about you so far. Wouldn’t even give us your name until a few days ago.”
“Wait, wait,” Alice interjected before I could say anything. “Do you wanna hear our theories first? They started to get pretty wild after a while.”
“Hush, Alice.” Julietsked at her daughter. “Ria, darling, ignore her. We’ve just been so excited to meet you. Adrien had been so secretive about your relationship… and the engagement news was so sudden. Naturally, we’re all very curious.”
Everyone’s eyes seemed to be on me now, anxiously waiting. And I was suddenly very aware of what my left nostril was doing. Because if Adrien had been able to spot my tell, who was to say the rest of his family wouldn’t pick up on it as well? I bet he hadn’t thought that part through when he’d come up with this brilliant little scheme of his.
You don’t have to lie, just… give them as much truth as possible and omit the rest.
