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“No. First she has to get used to me.” My lips twist. “After a couple of weeks, she might decide she wants to move back into her apartment.”
“Well, try to remember to pick your socks up. That would be a start.”
We both chuckle. My untidiness is notorious.
“Son,” he says softly, “if she doesn’t fall head over heels for you, there’s something seriously wrong with her. You’re a good guy, and you’re going to make a great father.”
My throat tightens. Jeez. I’m not the one supposed to be having trouble with hormones. “Thanks.”
“Plus you’re loaded,” he says. “That helps.” He claps me on the back, and I give a short laugh as we start walking back to the others.
“By the way,” he says, “they want you to do the thing.”
“What thing?”
“You know, the test.”
I groan. “No…” But I have to admit, a small part of me is eager to see what Catie will do, and so eventually I grin and say, “Yeah all right. After we’ve eaten, let’s give it a go.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Catie
Pam starts bringing out platters of food, and they just keep coming. Jeez, how much are we expected to eat? The others don’t comment, though, so this is clearly the norm, and they pile the presents into a bag and clear the table so there’s plenty of room for the food.
There’s so much, and I have no idea what any of it is. Are we supposed to help ourselves? I feel panic rising at the thought. But Saxon smiles at me and says, “How about I put a plate together for you?” and I give a little nod, relieved. While he chats with Brendan and Kip, he picks bits from the various platters, and then he brings it back to me and kisses me on the forehead. “Just eat what you want,” he murmurs before returning to fill his own plate.
I look at the various cheeses, slices of meat, pieces of chicken, and vegetables on skewers, bewildered, but determined not to look as if I’ve only eaten pasta for the last few years. While I listen to the conversation, I nibble on different bits. I’m unused to spicy food, and I know my palate is very underdeveloped, so some of it tastes strange. Rolls of beef with some kind of pickled pepper inside; vegetables I don’t recognize; strange sandwiches with five or six layers; a blue cheese that’s incredibly strong. But the fried chicken pieces are lovely, and when Saxon sees me tucking into them, he passes me another couple from his plate with a wink.
I’ve never had this before—someone watching me, looking out for me, and it’s sobering and flattering at the same time. It’s wonderful having the support, but equally I know he’s not going to let me get away with anything. I suppose that’s a good thing, though. I’ve been too insular, too frightened, for too long.
“I’ve got something else for you to look at,” Mae says when, stuffed full, I put my plate on the table. She reaches under the table for something, pulls it out, then brings it to me. “Budge over,” she says to Saxon, who frowns and moves reluctantly to another seat. She sinks into his chair, then shows me a book that looks like a large ring binder.
“Ah shit,” he says. “Mum!”
“I always told you this would happen.” She grins at me and opens it up. “I promised him I’d show his baby photos to the mother of his children one day.”
“Photos?” Delighted, I take the book and begin leafing through it. All the photos feature Saxon at various ages, usually with Kip. Damon appears in most of the later ones, too.
“I put this together for you,” she tells me. “We have so many photos of the boys, but I think these are the best ones.”
“Jesus,” Saxon says.
“Stop fussing,” she scolds. “Everyone has baby photos.”
“Not me,” I say, lips twisting as I turn the page. “My stepmother threw away all my family photos when I moved in with her.” I sigh. Then, as it goes quiet around me, I glance up. They’re all exchanging glances, and Mae looks horrified.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, “I didn’t think.”
“It’s okay,” I say hurriedly, “I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.”
“You didn’t, sweetheart. I just feel so sad for you. Don’t you have any photos of your mum and dad?”
I shake my head.
“Not even on your phone?” Neal asks.
“I wasn’t allowed one back then.” I glance at Saxon. His smile has faded, and his brows have drawn together. Not knowing what else to say, I look back at the album. “Okay, let’s see how embarrassing these are,” I joke, and the others give small laughs, obviously glad I’m not upset.
