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“If you need to run home and get medication or something you can, but the grocery order has toothbrushes and anything you might need. I even ordered underwear. Nothing fancy, but it will do.”
And to think, I was worried about where my underwear ended up since I’m not wearing it.
Klayton leads the way down the stairs. “That verges on creepy, mom.”
She waves a dismissive hand at him.
Out of all of the wild weekend scenarios I’d imagined with these guys, none of them involved either of our parents. Is this fate’s way of trying to keep me from burning in hell?
Knock. Knock.
Pam jumps up. “That’s probably the photographer. If you don’t already have your jammies on, it’s time. I’ll get her started setting up then slip into mine.”
This can’t be happening. Where’s my phone? Why isn’t a medical emergency requiring my attention?
My dad mutters something and heads to the master bedroom. I don’t know whether to laugh or…I’m not even sure what. The scenario’s not worth crying over, it’s just family pictures.
The evening goes exactly as Pam promised—food, games, getting to know each other. She’s worried about how old her sons are getting, with no sign of finding someone to settle down with. The woman’s eager for grandkids. She might regret that.
I rub my belly. Sebastian notices and gives me a questioning look, but I wave him off.
How could I have been so willing and free with the possibility of unprotected sex, and now question my choices? My heart’s still convinced it was the right thing to do. I’m so confused.
A few hours later, Pam’s mission has successfully been accomplished. I know my new family better. Pam’s as traditional as my dad. Other than their secret wedding, she wants all of the normal stuff, although the boys draw the line when talk of pajamas for next year’s family picture comes up.
She imagines her boys bringing home girlfriends that will turn into wives. She’s already worried about how well she’ll get along with them, especially once grandbabies are on the way…them again. I have to admit—she might be a bit overwhelming as a mother-in-law.
My stomach tumbles. As my stepmom, she’s a part of my life, but somewhat avoidable. If she gets a second role as mother-in-law, that’s downright weird, and I’m not sure I can deal with two doses of her. Not that she’s a bad person. My dad’s never been happier, that I can remember.
But she keeps mentioning how happy we’ll be when we find our person. I can’t take it and head to the kitchen to make myself scarce. It must make her realize how late it is because she gives us all permission to go to bed.
Then in excited Pam fashion, she has me worried she’s going to tuck as all in. Thankfully, I’m wrong.
I’m also in bed, alone, my desires for a wild weekend successfully squashed.
Vance texts:Want to sneak to my room? It’s farthest away from our parents.
Me:Not tonight.
Which probably means not ever. Not like that. I should have known my heart would make things messy. I have to keep my head straight and end this. If the four of us keep up our antics, we’re going to get caught, and that will make the awkwardness of the whole pajama thing pale by comparison.
Or we could get in front of it, and simply announce our interest in each other. My peers, Madison, Zoe, and Calli might be pulling off unconventional relationships. They can be my trailblazers. But they aren’t screwing their stepbrothers. I curl into a fetal position.
This has to end. I’ll be firm on my morning decision. What we’ve done can be exactly what I asked for…a wild weekend…our little secret.
But refreshed is the opposite of how I’d describe the way I feel when I wake up the next morning. The bright red and green elf pajamas aren’t enough to lift my spirits. The house is quiet, so I take advantage of the peaceful moment and pad down to the kitchen where I can get the coffee flowing and make myself less ogre-ish.
“Ari, good morning.” Pam’s cheerful voice knows no bounds of common decency. And where is the last syllable of my name? That’s the least of my problems, though. Why can’t she sleep in until seven like my dad?
What a bummer that she’s already dressed and we no longer match. My eyes roll back in my head.
Wait, since she’s awake and dressed, why don’t I smell coffee? Don’t tell me she’s naturally like this? There’s no cup near her and the pot is empty.
While I go through the motions of prepping the coffee maker to brew a full pot, she sets her phone on the bar, sits back on her barstool, and gives me her undivided attention.
“Look at us girls awake first. We should schedule some time without the guys.”
I mumble agreement. Just enough coffee has brewed that I can pour a cup. It’ll be extra strong. Perfect.
