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I feel like the world’s biggest asshole.
She wants to cry. I can see it. She’s holding her shit together. I always hate disappointing her, but this feels especially shitty knowing how hard she worked to surprise me.
I pull her into a hug and she burrows her face against my chest. “I’m really sorry, baby.” I kiss the top of her head. “I-I’ll make it up to you.” I have no idea how but I vow to figure something out.
Alana looks up at me smiling a heavy smile. She runs her hand over my chest. “It’s okay.” She forces a cheerful tone and tries to change the subject. “You look really good in the sweater, by the way.” I’m wearing the cozy beige fleece-lined sweatshirt she also gifted to me. I put it on the second I pulled it out of the gift bag. “I won’t lose the sweater. I promise. Even if that means I never, ever take it off.”
“Well, I like it on you,” she says with that rueful smile, leaning back to get a better look at me. “It makes you look like a big muscly teddy bear.”
“A teddy bear.” I laugh. “Not sure how the bad guys around town are gonna feel about a police officer walking around looking like a teddy bear but so be it. ‘Cause I’mreallynever taking it off,” I promise her again.
She rises onto her tiptoes and draws her nose along my neck, breathing me in. “You’re a sexy teddy bear. And that sweatshirt makes me want to climb into your lap and lick every inch of your skin.”She nibbles at my throat. “But when I get you in bed later, I’m gonna need you to ditch the sweatshirt, darling.”
I chuckle sadly. She’s such a sweet woman, telling jokes in a time like this, pretending I haven’t disappointed her when we both know I have.
“Hey, did you guys find the watch?” Jasper enters the kitchen from the back yard. Harry and Mason are on his heels. All three of the guys wear worried expressions.
I shake my head. “No sign of it.”
“We looked all over, man.” Mason glances out the window overlooking the yard where we grilled burgers and drank beers and made happy memories all afternoon. Now, most of our guests have left, and with the watch missing, there’s a gloomy feeling hanging heavy in the air.
Mom and Nicky stroll in from the other side of the house, looking just as crestfallen. “No luck in the living room,” my mother announces.
“Sorry, bro.” Harry lifts his baseball cap to comb his fingers through his hair. “It was a nice watch, too.”
I feel Alana shudder against me. “I know,” I mutter. Shit.
The sound of high heels echos through the house. Juliette strolls down the hallway, coming from the direction of the bathroom. Stacey and Jordan trail behind her.
“You guys leaving?” Alana lifts her head off of my chest to speak to her mother.
The woman clutches her snakeskin purse under her arm, throwing a charming smile around the kitchen. “Yes, we’re gonna get going.”
She struts into the room, the fake fur collar of her blouse fluffing around her with each supermodel step. The overpowering stench of my mother-in-law’s cheap perfume fills the air. She squeezes past everyone and yanks open the fridge door, tucking a few cans of soda and beer into her purse.
Juliette coughs her trademark husky cough. “Can we get another slice of cake for the road?” Not waiting for an answer, she lifts one edge of the aluminum paper covering the leftovers and takes a peek.
“Sure, sure…” Alana eases out of my arms and goes to prepare a care package for her family.
My brothers get started with clean up, popping balloons and ripping streamers from the ceiling. Mom gets started on the dishes and Nicky protests when she gets put on towel-drying duty.
Meanwhile, Juliette goes around the snack buffet, picking at the leftovers with her long, red, pointy fingernails. Stacey and Jordan stand stiffly by the exit, uncharacteristically quiet, looking like they’re ready to bolt.
I go over and put a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. He flinches hard and looks up at me with a terrified expression.
“You okay, buddy?” I ask him. The eight-year-old nods vigorously, refusing to speak.
Stacey pulls him out of my grasp, tucking him against her side, a protective arm coming around him. “He’s fine,” she bites out.
My eyes meet hers and I almost flinch. Sometimes, she looks so much like Alana that it freaks me out. A younger, harder, angstier version of Alana, brimming with moody teenage hormones.
“Can we go now?” Jordan quietly asks his sister, shifting around from foot to foot like he needs to pee. The boy’s little face is flushed, his wild eyes darting around.
“We have to wait,” Stacey hisses, glaring at her mother.
Sheesh! Such an attitude on that one. Thirteen-year-old girls are the stuff that nightmares are made of. Alana keeps talking about having daughters. But I’ve told her in no uncertain terms that, when we start having babies, I’monlygiving her boys.
Juliette snatches the brimming container that Alana hands her. The woman doesn’t even offer a ‘thank you’. “Come on, you little brats. Let’s hit the road.”
