“Bridget.”
“What? Graham’s paying. If he says it’s okay…”
“Kid, you don’t have to pay,” Mom tells me. “You did not birth these walking garbage disposals.”
I shrug. “It’s nothing.”
“Love having a rich brother.” The younger two high-five.
“We need to wait for Ryan,” Mom tells them. “Text him, one of you, that I’m eating the last of his bread if he doesn’t show up.”
“Dammit.”
I got here early because if you’re on time you’re late. I’ve already been sitting here with them for—I surreptitiously check my watch—seventeen minutes. We’ve already been served waters and piping-hot focaccia. If Ryan had shown up on time, we would have already had appetizers and then I could have gone home before 10:30 p.m. Now? It’s going to be 11:15 at the earliest before I get out of here.
I’m not going to manage this dinner.I try to keep my expression neutral.
“Let’s order appetizers,” the teens beg.
“Not yet.” Frank sighs. “Ryan’s the one who wanted to meet up.”
“Ryan’s going to have to eat dirt.” Mom opens the menu.
“What a thing to say about your firstborn.” Frank nudges her.
“I have other children,” Mom jokes. “There’s only one plate of mozzarella sticks.”
“You can order two,” I murmur.
They all start lightly bickering like people do in family-friendly comedy movies.
My mom tucks her black hair behind her ear and beams at her perfect family.
Her FBI knight in shining armor grabs her hand and rubs his thumb over her knuckles, over the tattooed date fading into a bruise of blue.
“Ryan!” Bridget and Hannah squeal as the eldest, the pride and joy, saunters into the restaurant, laughing as the girls mob him.
“And Claire!”
“Claire! We didn’t know you were coming.” My mom jumps up to hug Ryan’s girlfriend. “I swear we would have saved some bread if we’d known it was you.”
I fetch another chair so I don’t have to participate in happy family.
“Graham’s paying,” Max says, scooting over so I can place the chair on his left.
“Oh no, don’t do that—we invited you all here,” Claire says with a brilliant smile.
“Graham always pays.”
“It makes him feel like a man.” Bridget snickers.
I hold out my hand for their coats to take them to the hooks on the wall by the entry.
“Oh, thank you, Graham!” Claire hands hers to me.
And the ring catches the candlelight—sparkles dazzling the table.
“Surprise,” Ryan announces, a grin splitting his face.
