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“I’m sorry to call you,” Brittany says into the phone.
“Don’t be. You can always call me. You know how I feel about these family dinners. What’s up?” I ask with a genuine smile in my voice.
“Jamie broke his glasses,” she says. “We were building a pillow fort, and he took them off and between the decorating and the stuffed animal party and crawling in and out of the fort they got crushed and–”
“Oh, that’s not a big deal,” I tell her.
“Are you sure?” she says. “I feel terrible.”
“Well, don’t,” I insist. “I have insurance, so I can replace them no problem. He also has a spare pair in my bathroom drawer. You’d be surprised how many pairs we go through. Actually, you’ve been around a while. I doubt you’re surprised at all.”
“Yeah, not really,” she says, and I am happy to hear a smile in her voice too.
We end the call, and I sigh. Funnily enough, dealing with motherhood shenanigans is much less stressful than dealing with the people at this business dinner, despite half of them being family. Who am I kidding? It’s stressful because they’re my family. Well, all except for Margaret, who might as well be. And Marcus…
He lays it on thick, even when he’s not even trying to lay it on thick. I think that’s a good word to describe most aspects about that man.
I can’t think about that right now. That’s over and our relationship is purely professional now. I sigh and make my way back into the dining room.
“Sorry about that,” I say with a smile as I take my seat again, but something is off. My sister and Garrett don’t look at me. Her lips are pursed together, and Garrett is grinning at nothing in particular. It’s an age-old, telltale sign that they were talking about me. Typical. My other co-workers are talking about the new iPhone 17 or whatever it is, and Marcus is frowning. Or is it scowling? Whichever it is, he’s a little more rigid than I left him.
It isn’t until I sit down again that anyone addresses me.
“Everything alright, darling?” Margaret asks.
“Oh yeah. Everything’s fine,” I smile, pulling my chair up.
“Trouble with the nanny?” Marcus asks, and I look over at him. But he just stares forward, sipping his whiskey that looks to have been refreshed.
I blink.
Shit.
Welp…that cat’s out of the bag. Though it’s not that odd, is it? For me to have a kid?
“No trouble,” I stutter. “Things are fine.”
He nods. “I didn’t know you were a mother,” he says.
“A single mother,” Garrett adds, and I debate diving over the table and stabbing him with one of those little crab forks.
“I have a four-year-old son,” I answer instead.
“Mm,” Marcus lets out. There’s something to it. Something cold. Does it bother him?
“Where is the dessert!?” Reese suddenly blurts out, glancing around frantically before turning to Garrett. “Garrett! Go check on the dessert!”
“I’m not even finished eating dinner yet,” he says, and she shoots him a glare to kill. Garrett just smiles, though. There’s something in his expression that is begging for silent help before he gets up.
“I’m going to check on dessert…” he says.
“Make sure they didn’t over-bake it,” Reese calls out. “Garrett? Garrett!”
With that, she throws her napkin down, sends the table a smile, and then treks after him.
“Marriage, am I right?” Margaret asks. “Why don’t we all take a little break?”
With that, the entire table excuses themselves to the patio for more drinks and fresh air. Everyone except me and Marcus.
