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Chapter 5

Julia

Irene’s Lil’ Restaurantwas super cute.

The rich aromas of tangy tomato sauce, sauté ed garlic, and freshly chopped herbs filled the air and made my stomach growl.

The fact that Dylan’s sister was the owner also came with amazing perks.

“It’s on the house,” Irene Callaghan announced as she set down our meals. “Any friend of my baby brother’s is a friend of mine.”

“That’s very kind of you,” I said. “Everything looks delicious.”

Irene patted Dylan on the shoulder. “By the way, Brody wanted me to tell you to bring the bread rolls this Friday.”

Dylan frowned. “But that’s literally the one thing he’s in charge of.”

“He mentioned something about his oven going out. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

I tilted my head to the side, curious. “What’s happening on Friday?”

“Our whole family gets together for dinner every week,” Irene explained. “I wouldn’t be able to keep tabs on my siblings otherwise.”

“That sounds so nice,” I admitted. “I wish I could spend quality time with my family every week.”

“Why don’t you?”

“My sister’s in Los Angeles, and my parents are…” I grimaced.

Irene nodded. “Not the most fun to be around?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to come if you find yourself in need of good food and even better company.” Somewhere behind us, a bell chimed. “Oops, that’s my cue. Let me know if any of you need anything.”

She ruffled Dylan’s hair lovingly before rushing off back to work.

“She seems nice,” I said to him.

Dylan brushed his fingers through his hair, righting what his sister messed up. “Yeah, she’s the best.”

“So your whole family shows up, huh?”

“Yep. All my brothers, my sisters-in-law, all my nieces and nephews. It’s a riot.”

“Andloud,” Cash said. “I remember the one time your brothers came to watch your first match. Holy hell, the Callaghans have a set of pipes on them.”

I arched a curious brow. “Watch your first match?”

“He used to be into MMA,” Red explained.

He’d been mostly silent since we sat down for dinner. I had to give credit where credit was due; he had phenomenal table manners. Cash, on the other hand, wasn’t above eating bits of his meal with his hands. They were like night and day, but I found it endearing how opposite they were.

“You were a fighter, too?” I asked Dylan, amazed.

“It’s not a big deal,” he said humbly. “I wanted to give it a try.”

“Did it not pan out?”

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