Page 152 of Pretend To Be Mine

“Please,” I said with a laugh. “I’m a little lost here.”

We spent the next thirty minutes with her showing me the trick to fluffy pancakes. What started as me making her pancakes ended up the other way around.

But she seemed to be enjoying it.

I was a quick learner. Next weekend, I would be making her pancakes. Maybe even bacon if I was feeling brave.

EPILOGUE

ELIZABETH

Six months later, and Sunday dinners at the Blackwell estate had become my favorite tradition. Mimi kept a brownstone in the city but had been spending more time at the Blackwell estate outside the city. Adrian and I would often come up and stay for a weekend. I loved the place.

The estate itself was magnificent. It was a sprawling property in Westchester with manicured gardens, a guest house that was bigger than most people’s actual houses, and a main residence that felt more like a boutique hotel than a home. But Mimi had a way of making it feel warm despite its size. She always had fresh flowers from the garden in beautiful vases around the house. There were family photos on every surface. The smell of home cooking that greeted you the moment you walked through the door was always a treat.

I remembered that first family dinner so vividly. I had been nervous and felt so out of place.

Now I was just here. I was part of the family. My chair had become my chair, the spot where everyone expected to find me every Sunday at six o’clock sharp. We all had our usual places.

The dining room was full of noise and laughter and the smell of Mimi’s incredible cooking. She insisted on making at least part of the meal herself every week, even though they could afford any chef in the world. Tonight, it was her famous roasted chicken with herbs from the garden, potatoes that were somehow both crispy and fluffy, and vegetables that actually tasted good instead of like an obligation.

“Pass the potatoes,” Dash demanded, reaching across the table with his characteristic lack of table manners.

“Say please,” Mimi instructed without looking up from her plate, her mother-radar still functioning perfectly despite her children being grown up and definitely knowing better.

Dash sighed. “Please pass the potatoes.”

“Better.” She smiled and passed them herself, adding an extra scoop to his plate like she always did. Dash was her baby, and everyone knew it, even if no one said it out loud.

I loved this. The chaos, the bickering, the obvious affection underneath all the teasing. My own family dinners had been tense, quiet affairs. My mother usually dominated the conversation, criticizing everything from my posture to my career choices. My father was the guy placating and trying to keep the peace.

This was different. This was what family should be. It was loud and messy and full of people who showed love by roasting each other mercilessly.

“So Elizabeth,” Sebastian said, grinning at me with that troublemaker gleam in his eye that meant he was about to say something designed to embarrass someone. “How does it feel to be the woman who finally got Adrian Blackwell to settle down?”

“Like I should get a medal,” I shot back. Everyone laughed. “Or hazard pay. One of the two.”

Mimi smiled. “You’ve been so good for him, dear. For all of them, really. I am looking forward to the day they’re all settled.”

“Speaking of settling down,” Adrian said. “Who do we think is next? Which Blackwell brother falls next?”

“Not Sebastian,” Dash said immediately, pointing his fork at Sebastian for emphasis. “You’re going to be single until you’re eighty, slutting around the retirement home.”

“Excuse you, I’ll be a very distinguished slut, thank you very much.” Sebastian raised his wine glass with mock dignity. “And I’ll have excellent taste in walkers. Only the finest mobility aids for Sebastian Blackwell.”

“My money’s on Briggs,” I said, studying the middle brother who was trying very hard to look like he wasn’t listening. Briggs was definitely the serious one, but I always got the feeling he was ready for a wife and kids. He dated his fair share, but he was more discreet.

Briggs looked alarmed, his composed facade cracking just slightly. “I don’t think so.”

Mimi smiled. “You’re just like your father. All business on the outside, complete softie on the inside.”

“I resent that characterization.”

“Resent it all you want, it’s true.” Adrian was grinning now, clearly enjoying his brother’s discomfort. “Remember when he cried at that commercial with the puppy?”

“That was a very emotional commercial about pet adoption.”

“You sobbed for ten minutes.”