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Suddenly the kitchen door burst open, and two enormous men rolled in. Literally rolled. Max and his brother Tate were on the floor, wrestling around like two teenage boys.
Cassidy pointed to them, completely unfazed by the scene. “Whichever brother gets all the other brothers in a headlock first doesn’t have to help with the dishes. A few years back they upended my tree on Christmas Eve. Somehow they snapped the thing in half, in addition to smashing three quarters of the ornaments. I have three little girls who get up at the crack of dawn to run and see what Santa left under that tree. So I made them march over to the tree lot, pick up a new one, and see if they could find replacement decorations so the kids wouldn’t be devastated in the morning. Most stores were closed by then, except for Lalique. Do you know the brand?”
“They sell expensive crystal vases and fancy bowls, right?”
Cassidy nodded. “That’s the one. But apparently they also sell collector’s ornaments for the holidays. Max bought all their remaining stock. I almost died when I saw the receipt. He spent twenty-seven-thousand dollars on decorations for the tree so it would have ornaments. And he wasn’t even the one who’d knocked it over.”
My eyes widened.
Cassidy nodded. “I told you—they are a lot.”
A few minutes later, Max flipped his brother on his back and wrapped him in a headlock. Tate had started to turn red when Mrs. Yearwood walked in and yelled at them. They stopped, both panting, and Max pointed at his brother.
“That counts. You would’ve tapped if your mommy didn’t have to come in and save you.”
“No way, Altar Boy.”
Mrs. Yearwood rolled her eyes. “You’ll both do the dishes for being idiots.”
As I stood in the kitchen watching the antics, I realized something strange. I should’ve been freaked out that a man I wasn’t dating had flown me to Boston to meet his entire family. Yet here I was, inside their home for only fifteen minutes, and instead of being nervous or anxious, I felt warmth in my chest.
Max walked over and hooked his big arm around my neck. Leaning in, he whispered, “You good?”
I smiled back. “Yeah, I think I am.”
Dinner with the Yearwoods was one of the most entertaining meals I’d had in a long time. The brothers argued, their mom told embarrassing stories, and we laughed more times than I could count. After, I got up to help clear the table. One of the chairs had a place setting no one had used. I’d assumed someone was late for dinner.
“Do you want me to leave this setting?” I asked Mrs. Yearwood. “Is someone still coming?”
Her eyes caught with Max’s briefly, before she smiled at me. “You can take it, honey. That’s Austin’s seat, my second youngest. He passed years ago, but I like to include him in family dinner when we’re all together. On the holidays when dinner is at my house, I usually invite someone in need of a warm meal from my church to share Austin’s seat. Otherwise we leave it empty for him.”
I swallowed. “Wow. That’s…beautiful.”
She smiled. “I’m glad you think so. A few of my boys thought it was creepy for a long time. But they’ve come around after all these years. Now they just like to tease me that I only set a plate for my son and not their dad, so clearly I liked him better.”
After dinner was cleaned up and the dishwasher loaded, Cassidy suggested we go sit out back on the deck and make a fire in their chiminea. It was a beautiful night, one that reminded you warm weather was coming soon.
Tate built the fire, and the ladies made a semicircle around it while the other brothers went out on the lawn to toss a football around. But the nice game of catch quickly escalated to tackling each other and rolling around on the lawn.
Mrs. Yearwood shook her head. “Still acting like they’re twelve.”
“Except now they get bruised and ache for a week after,” Cassidy said. “Tate will never admit it, but he had to go to the chiropractor after their shenanigans on Easter.”
Another of the wives chimed in. “Lucas wore a knee brace for a month.”
Yet another wife laughed. “Will dislocated his elbow at Christmas. The only one who isn’t out of commission after a family holiday is Max. He’s the youngest and gets slammed into walls for a living.”
“Speaking of making a living,” Cassidy said. “Did you ladies know Georgia owns the company that made the beautiful flowers that are always in the center of my dining room table? The ones Max sent a few months back that last a year?”
“Really? Is that how you two met?”
I shook my head. “He actually sent those before we met.”
“How did the two of you meet?” Mrs. Yearwood asked.
