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“Nothing but the best for the love of my life.”
It’s the wrong thing to say because Gabe’s easy expression cuts off as concern flickers behind his eyes. “You know this is batshit, right?”
“Completely.”
His gaze strays to Christian again. “As long as you’re both aware. And consenting to this shitshow.”
“Already told you we were.”
“Hmm. Kay.” Gabe walks backward. “Have fun. Look after him.”
That last part is clearly meant for me even though he’s still watching Christian.
“I will,” I say.
Gabe nods. “Love you.”
“You too,” Christian says, like telling your friend you love him is a totally normal occurrence. I blink at them both, mouth somewhere around my ankles, as Christian grabs my hand and leads me outside.
“Umm …” I hesitate over how to bring up theLbomb, and when I can’t find a way to phrase it that doesn’t sound like I’m a jealous, stalker boyfriend, I give up on tact. “Are you in love with him?”
“What?”
I have no fucking clue where Christian’s shock at my question is coming from. “You just said—”
“Oh. That. Nah, we all say it to each other. We’re pretty affectionate too, but we’re like … I dunno. Probably the way brothers who love each other aresupposedto be. Not that any of us have a frame of reference for that.”
My heart aches at the matter-of-fact way he talks, and I give his hand a tight squeeze. “I think that’s incredibly sweet.” Because, while I was a teeny, tiny bit jealous at first, I can’t deny that a bunch of grown men who live together being sweet and loving toward each other without it being anything sexual or romantic is … amazing. If only it hadn’t come from a place of necessity.
He chuckles, face tinging red behind his beard, and my heart gives a little flutter. I recognize the red flag for what it is … and I ignore it anyway.
Chapter 14
Christian
I might be nervous as hell, but I’m also determined to be for Émile what he was for me. Confident—ish, a steady presence who takes no shit from his family, but above everything, I’ll be his support. I’m here forhim.
Their opinion of me doesn’t matter, it’s not like I’m going to join their family for real, all that matters is making them think that I’m wildly in love with Émile.
And as I grip his hand tighter and walk into an enormous, sleek and expensive-looking apartment, I doubt for a second that there’s any way I’ll be able to pull this off. I swallow down the lump caught in my throat and glance his way, only to find him already watching me. The warmth and affection in his eyes are only too easy to mistake for the real thing and when one corner of his lips tilts upward, the nerves in my gut settle.
“You ready for this spectacle?” he asks.
“Don’t think so.”
Émile squeezes my hand.
“Yes,” I correct myself. “I am ready. As ready as I can get.”
He tugs me close enough for his shoulder to bump mine. “We’ll work on that execution, but good to hear.”
I stay close as Émile leads us inside, and for a “lunch” there are a lot of people here. Twenty? Thirty?Forty? It’s hard to count with people passing from one small group to the next. “Where to first?” I murmur.
“Probably the parents.”
“Yikes. Getting the big guns out of the way then?”
“Oh, bless. They’re the warm-up to grandmother.”
