I cry a little more and he likes that, coming a minute later over my chest with a rough grunt as his fingers tighten a little more around my throat.
If I didn’t already know it was a claiming, his fingers rubbing the cum into my skin are a dead giveaway and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Chapter Twenty-One
I send out invites to a nonnegotiable extended family dinner.
I don’t invite the out-of-towners but everyone else who matters to our family gets a time and date to arrive as well as a menu in case there are any allergies I need to contend with.
I should know better than to try for formality.
Roxas immediately messages back with critiques about the lack of red meat options, and I threaten to send Lips after him in the cold dead of the night if he doesn’t just shut his mouth, sit quietly at my goddamn table, and eat my cooking.
Harbin is better about it. Jackson and Viola just send through their RSVP as though they had an option here, and Odie sends me a lovely reply about how much she can’t wait to see us all and an apology for needing space to breastfeed so her husband doesn’t kill all of the men attending.
I adore her.
I have the entire meal prepped and ready to go an hour before anyone is due to arrive. Aodhan is already here drinking with Harley and Morrison, all of them arguing over some fighter I’ve never heard about before, while Ash is muttering in the corner with Lips about something I can’t quite make out.
Noah is behind the bar, mixing drinks with a littletoomuch skill.
When he hands me a margarita that he’s just poured, I eye him over the rim distrustfully. We might’ve come to an agreement, a peace treaty of sorts, but Illi’s warnings of poisoned food and drinks ring in my ear.
“Just fucking drink it,Aves,” he says, sarcasm at an all time high but I sigh and take a sip.
It’s the best margarita I’ve ever tasted.
I take another gulp, looking like my brother sucking back the alcohol like I want to die, and Noah grins at me. “Mixing drinks is my specialty.”
I finish the glass off and hand it back to him for a refill, fully preparing myself for a messy night thanks to his skills. “How? You look about twelve years old, who gave you access to enough spirits to learn?”
The grin dims a little but he shrugs and says, “You’d be surprised. The Bay isn’t the only shitty city in the country, you know.”
I can’t argue with that.
I shoot him a look of camaraderie, because I also understand terrible childhoods, and Lips sidles up behind us as Ash moves over to join the guys’ raucous argument. Noah holds out a margarita to her as well which she takes with a little cringe.
“Lips is a whiskey girl, straight and fiery,” I murmur, and Noah gags dramatically.
“Of course she is, she’s a better man than I’ll ever be.”
Lips rolls her eyes at him and takes a sip. “Not bad. I could drink these more often. I like whiskey because it’s what was around, not because I have some refined palette.”
Noah starts fumbling around with some of the bottles to mix up something else, and Lips glances behind us like she’s checking the guys still can’t hear us. “So, you’re going to be a Crawford, huh? I would’ve guessed he’d be the stickler for marriage.”
I groan. “Of course Aodhan and Harley have been gossiping. We’re never going to get to tell each other anything anymore! Those two will spoil it all. Besides, it was a negotiation. It’s not happening anytime soon.”
She grins at me and shares a look with Noah, one that says they’ve managed to form some sort of bridge between them. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell them it had to be a split down the middle. I thought Atticus would’ve loved a perfectly fifty-fifty split.”
“What am I supposed to do, move to the Maldives so we can have a polygamist marriage?” Lips turns to face me, and I wave a hand at the look she gives me. “Of course I looked up legal polygamist marriages, Lips—it’s what I do! Christ, I’ve known all about them since about ten minutes after you said ‘I don’t know, I like them all.’”
She scoffs at me, that lovely blush of hers back on her cheeks, and I try not to laugh back at her. I really should turn the oven on before the margaritas get to me but the moment I finish my glass, Noah is there refilling it.
He’s not so bad.
After the arguing dies down a little, Harley stomps over to us and slings an arm around Lips, drawling at me, “Why the fuck do we have a seating chart for dinner? Is this a secret fucking wedding or some shit?”
I roll my eyes at Harley’s dramatics and snap back at him, “Well, if you could all sit through an entire meal without threatening each other or risking damage to my good china, then we wouldn’t need one, but unfortunately you’re all unruly children.”
