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Isn’t that something special to announce at Christmas dinner?
That’s exactly when I found out last December. Right before she shared the names of popular Instagram influencers over our glazed ham, sure to help me learn how to contour my unruly eyebrows.
Yay me.
“Can’t wait,” I reply, trying to sound upbeat and chipper about tonight’s impending doom we’ll call family dinner.
“Excellent. See you there. Oh, and wear something nice. You know how the dress code is at Sully’s.” He doesn’t say goodbye, just hangs up the phone. Heaven forbid he take point two seconds to properly sign off.
With another dramatic sigh, I set my phone down on the bed beside me and flop back. Wear something nice? I didn’t exactly pack for a fancy dinner out at Sully’s when I threw random shit into my luggage and took off for my brother’s house.
Hermione makes her presence known, jumping up on the bed and rubbing against my arm. She plops down in the same theatrical fashion I did moments ago and purrs, begging me to pet her.
“I have to go buy a dress, Hermione. I hate shopping,” I mutter to my cat as I rub my hand over her soft hair.
She meows, and I’m pretty sure, if she could actually speak, she just told me to get over it and go. My cat has a way with words like that.
“Fine, I’m going,” I mumble, making no move to get up.
But first, I’ll just pet my kitty for a few more minutes.
An hour later, I’ve dragged my feet long enough, trying to avoid the inevitable. If I don’t go now, I’ll be late getting back to the house. Late getting ready. Late to dinner. Usually, that wouldn’t bother me much, but the last thing I want is for my dad to chastise and humiliate me in front of wife number four, who will probably share great Instagram influencers who can help me work on my tardiness problem, and my brother.
And Brock.
Keys in hand, I head for the front door. Just as I’m about to reach for the handle, the door flies open and in walk the guys. Suddenly, I wish I had been a little quicker in my departure.
“Hey, where you off to?” Caleb asks.
“What? Nowhere,” I argue.
He glances down, clearly spotting the keys in my hand, and arches an eyebrow in question. “Nowhere? Just taking your keys for a walk?” he jokes, tossing his own keys onto the couch.
I place my hands on my hips and give him my best glare. “Well, if you must know, because of you, I’m having dinner with our father and wife number four.”
My brother has the audacity to look a little embarrassed. “Yeah, sorry about that. He caught me off guard, and I guess I hadn’t realized he didn’t know you were here.”
I sigh, avoiding the intensity of Brock’s gaze. I can feel it, like the warmth of a spotlight hitting you in the side of the head. “It’s fine, whatever. The good news is you and Mr. Tight End are going too!” I bellow, throwing my arms in the air in victory.
The look on Caleb’s face is priceless. “What? Shit,” he mumbles. “I see him every day on the field.” My brother gets to deal with Dear Old Dad every day, since he’s one of the coaches.
“Family dinner for the win, big brother,” I sass, holding out my hand for him to give me a high-five.
“You’re mean,” he grumbles, hitting my hand with a hard, sharp tap.
“Ouch.” I try to shake the sting away, but it doesn’t work.
“Serves you right for being a smartass. So where are you going? Running way to Cuba to avoid going?”
“A reasonable consideration, but no.” I drop my gaze and whisper, “I have to go buy a dress for Sully’s.”
Caleb gives an Academy Award winning performance, shock written all over his face. “A dress? How will you survive?”
“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure you’re buying,” I state, holding out my hand.
Brock barks out a laugh, watching our exchange, as Caleb pulls his wallet out of his shorts and hands me his credit card.
“Ohh, the black one. That means shoes and a pedicure too.” My poor toes haven’t seen paint or any sort of attention in so long, I’m not sure I can even remember when.
