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“I thought you said your youngest sister was twenty-seven,” she said.

“Exactly.” He turned back to her, his expression unusually anxious. “So, um … Overall, my family’s great—a little overwhelming, but great.”

She smiled patiently and waited for whatever was coming next. Everyone had some kind of warning when it came to the parents. With hers it was not to mention politics. With Greg’s, it was don’t criticize the Pope. With Riley’s, you had to eat everything on your plate or else.

“My parents pretty much think I walk on water,” he said hesitantly.

As far as family warnings went, this one was tame, and she patted his arm. “That’s a good thing, Jake.”

He snatched at her arm before she could go for the doorbell. “No, they, like, really think I’m the best thing since humans discovered cheese.”

Her eyes went wide at that. “Wow.”

“Yeah. So if you could just, you know … I don’t see them very often.”

Grace melted a little at the little-boy look on his face, and on a whim, she went on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Don’t worry. I won’t let them think you’re anything other than the rock star you are.”

Something strange flashed across his face then, but she didn’t have the chance to analyze it because then the door opened, and it was like a tidal wave of noise.

Grace vaguely registered being dragged into the house by a female version of Jake before she was hugged by everyone. Everyone.

Her own parents hugged her when they saw her, of course. They might be proper, but they were loving. But the Malones hugged. They squeezed her, ruffled her hair, and did that hold-her-by-the-shoulders-and-inspect-her-up-and-down thing before hugging her all over again.

Grace tried to keep track of the names that came at her. Dimly she counted the four sisters, the dad, some yippy dog named Hula, and then came the real hug.

Mama Malone.

From the way Jake had described his mother, Grace had been expecting a short, loving pit bull of a woman, but Nancy Malone was tall and lean with gorgeous salt-and-pepper hair in a stylish bob. Her brown eyes were so like Jake’s that Grace stared for a moment before she was pulled into the longest hug yet.

When Jake’s mother pulled back from the hug, Grace could have sworn her eyes were watery.

Uh-oh.

“It’s so nice of you to let me tag along with Jake, Mrs. Malone.”

“ ‘Mrs. Malone,’ she says,” Jake’s mom gushed. “He found one with manners! I was so worried he was going to bring one of those snotty stick figures you see all over that show … what’s the one where they make their own clothes and have attitude?”

“Project Runway,” one of the sisters volunteered.

“Right, I thought you were going to be like one of the girls from Project Runway.”

One of the sisters covered her mouth in horror. “Surely, you didn’t think that Jake was going to make a mistake with his choice in women?”

Nancy waved this away. “No, of course not.”

“Of course not,” the sister said with a little wink at Grace. “No mistakes for our Jakey.” Grace smiled. “Most of us New Yorkers are actually pretty normal. We just live in really tiny spaces in a really big city.”

“With great shoes,” another sister said.

“Well, there is that.”

Jake’s mother was still staring at her with a fond expression, and Grace 2.0 started muttering warnings in the back of Grace’s mind.

“You just call me Nancy, okay, dear?”

“Okay,” Grace said, letting herself be pulled into another hug.

“Now I’m sure Jake’s told you all about them, but these here are my girl babies. Jill, she’s the oldest—the only one to give me grandbabies. Then there’s Jennifer and Jessica, the twins, and the ginger over there is baby Jamie. My husband still wants to know where the red hair came from. I’ll never tell.”

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