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“Gavin won’t let up for a while,” Joanne said once her son left the kitchen. “Learn to take it in stride. I love that boy like he were my own blood, but he is damn hardheaded when he’s being overprotective.”
“I’m not gonna hurt Simeon,” I said. “I know I messed up—”
“Yes indeed.”
My stomach tied up in a knot, and I ran my hands through my hair. “I don’t know what to say to convince anyone. This whole thing was probably a bad idea.”
Joanne arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. “Looky here, Adrián, it’s not every day my son wants me to meet someone he’s seeing. So, this is a special occasion, yeah?”
“I mean, I guess . . .”
“No guessing. It is.” She inhaled slowly, lips pursing again. “I love my son, but his judgment isn’t always what it should be. He is talented and sweet and handsome, but he can also be a damn fool. Especially nowadays when he should know his every action will end up in the spotlight, and he still makes silly mistakes.”
“Because he’s too trusting,” I blurted out without thinking. The arch look she gave me made it clear that was also her concern, and that the concern was also aimed at me. “But I’m not—look, I’m not gonna be another mistake. I don’t think so, anyway. He knows how much I regret the way I acted. I fuc—freaking think back on it and regret it every day. And he trusts me now.”
“But why should he trust you is my question,” she pressed. “Why should I trust you with my son? Marcus and Gavin with their brother?”
“Because . . .” I glanced at the door again, waiting for Gavin or Simeon or whoever the hell else to appear. “Because . . .”
She made that face again—the raised eyebrow while her mouth pursed—while spreading out the store-bought food Simeon had purchased. I couldn’t tell if she was more disdainful of me or restaurant hors d’oeuvres and sides. Being up there with crab puffs wasn’t a good feeling, and I was starting to think I was on the precipice of making her lose her patience.
“Mrs. B, I’m so scared of messing up again that I’m carrying around multiple mirrors to watch my ass.” She burst out laughing, clapping her hands, and I heaved a sigh of relief. “Seriously, though! I feel blessed that he even gave me a shot after all my nonsense. I’m doing everything in my power to make him happy. Why do you think I’m here eating with Hendricks and Brawley, who both fuc—freaking hate me?”
Joanne walked around the counter to pat my arm, still grinning broadly. “They don’t hate you, baby. They’re just protective of Simeon. And if you really care about him, you’ll find a way to get along with them.”
Was she giving me a bros-before-hos warning? I had no idea, so I just blinked at her while cringing. She laughed again.
“Go try your best. And send Noah’s skinny behind in here. That boy needs a meal.”
Send Noah? I didn’t even know the guy, besides the fact that he was screwing a giant blond jackass who wanted to rip my throat out like a pissed-off Viking. Even so, I shot her a weak smile, rallied when she gave me a big hug, and shuffled out of the kitchen. Right into the pissed-off Viking in question once I hit the entryway again.
We stared each other down for a beat before he looked me up and down with a scoff.
“You know you’re gonna be outed at some point, right? And that your team is gonna treat you like you suddenly transformed into a pile of hot garbage?”
“Yeah, I know. Thanks for that glimpse into my future.”
“You can save your fucking sarcasm for someone who thinks you’re cute,” he rumbled. “I’m just giving you the what’s what and you can do with it what you will.”
“What do you think I’m gonna do with it?” I demanded incredulously. “Not be with Simeon because eventually some assholes will treat me like shit? I’m not blowing my shot with him over that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I fucking—” Love him. I clenched my jaw and rolled my shoulders. “Because I want him in my life, and he wants me in his. You feel me?” He stared flatly, unimpressed, and I rolled my eyes. “All right, tough guy. Go ahead and mean mug me until the end of time, but I’m gonna be around regardless, soooo . . .”
“So then don’t fuck it up. I’d hate to have to go back to wanting to choke your bitch ass out every time I see you.”
And with that beauty of a comment, Gavin Brawley shoulder-checked me on his way into the kitchen. It took me a second to realize that his comment had been as close to a compliment as I was ever going to get with him.
