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We pull into the gated community where my aunt lives and park in her driveway. Sophie’s eyes go wide. “This house is gigantic.”
“Yeah, it is. She’s my father’s sister, remember? They’re all about appearances.” Sophie sucks in a deep breath, and I shoot her a wink. “She’s harmless, though.”
We get out of the truck, and I lead her up the sidewalk with my hand on her back. I look at the perfectly trimmed bushes, and before we make it to the door, it’s swinging open. Aunt Sylvia greets us with a charming smile, not a hair out of place as she waves her hand for us to come inside.
“I’ve been expecting you two lovebirds,” she singsongs, pulling me and then Sophie into a hug. Sophie looks around in awe at the high vaulted ceilings, chandeliers, and ridiculously expensive sculptures in the foyer. The marble floors are so shiny, I can see my reflection in them. Numerous political parties have been held here over the years, and I’m sure many more will be too. We enter the kitchen, and Sylvia has cooked enough food for a dozen people.
“Expecting a small army?” I ask, walking over to the counter where the gigantic meatballs, noodles, sauce, and homemade garlic bread are laid out.
“Nope, just us,” she says. She divorced her husband years ago, and my cousin has long since moved out. Sophie and I help her carry the dishes into the formal dining room where the table is set up all fancy. When I notice Sophie’s fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, I hope her nerves aren’t getting the best of her. As we walk back to the kitchen, I place my hand on the small of her back, hoping she relaxes a tad.
Aunt Sylvia grabs an expensive bottle of wine, and I grab the glasses. After we take our seats, she fills our plates with a mountain of food. I glance over at Sophie and smile at her expression. I warned her and wasn’t kidding about the portions and stretchy pants.
As soon as she tastes one of the meatballs, she hums. “Oh my God. I think that’s the best meatball I’ve ever tasted in my life. Ever.”
Sylvia grins at me. “She’s a keeper, Mason.”
“Seriously,” Sophie continues, then eats another meatball. I can’t blame her, though; they are really good. She could open a restaurant and make a killing, but being a county judge is her passion, and she’d never give it up. Just like my father, she’s caught up in the attention. But unlike my father, she still has her moral compass.
“How’s Crystal?” I ask about my cousin. Ignoring the pressure of following in her mom’s footsteps, she became a nurse and was one of the main reasons I found the courage to choose my own path too. I knew my dad would get over it. Eventually.
“Doing great. She works a lot. I actually invited her to join us tonight, but she’s on swing shift so wasn’t able to. You’ll have to come over again and meet my daughter,” she tells Sophie, who agrees with a mouthful.
“Saw your dad last week,” Aunt Sylvia adds, and I instantly tense. I was hoping she wouldn’t bring him up, but that was wishful thinking. “Is he still married to that child? The secretary?” she asks suspiciously.
I stuff my face and give her a nod, but she continues chatting.
“Hmm,” she says, but now my curiosity is piqued.
“Why?” I ask.
She shrugs. “No reason.”
“This wine is great,” Sophie says, taking a big sip, thankfully moving the topic away from my dad. I chuckle because the last time she drank wine was with Liam and got completely trashed, which by morning I found adorable because of how embarrassed she was.
“Oh have more.” Aunt Sylvia nearly refills Sophie’s glass to the brim.
“She’s a lightweight,” I tell Sylvia, who waves me off.
“We all are sometimes. Plus, she’s not driving.” She shoots Sophie a wink, who then giggles.
After we’ve eaten our weight in spaghetti and meatballs, we help her clean up. I’m so full that I’m miserable, and I think Sophie is too, so we both refuse dessert. Aunt Sylvia tells us to grab our wine and follow her. By the smirk on her face, I know she’s more than determined to embarrass the piss outta me tonight. She leads Sophie and me into her study, where she has a shelf full of photo albums. She begins pulling them down one by one and places them on her desk.
“Look at how adorable Mason was.” Aunt Sylvia flips through photos of Crystal and me in diapers.
“Those eyelashes,” Sophie says, glancing over at me with a smile. “Oh my gosh, you were the cutest baby.”
I scoff. “I’m still cute.”
Blush hits her cheeks as Aunt Sylvia goes on and on about the stories Crystal and I used to make up. “They would write plays and perform them in the living room. And the ballet moves Mason had,” she continues.
