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“But you weren’t married then!” Her fingers make little pincers, and I wince and wrap her up in a hug to derail her from my aching cheeks.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask.
Mom waves a hand to the backyard. “Where he and Cliff always are.”
Which means he and Mia’s dad are out back next to the grill with a few beers.
“I’ll head back there and—”
“Hold it right there, young man,” Julie Hudson stops me with a pointed finger, her other arm still wrapped tightly around Mia’s shoulders.
When she moves closer to Mom and me, she drags Mia along.
“C’mere, you,” she shoves Mia at Mom and grabs me in a freakishly strong hold. “Son.”
My stomach churns at the name, and I nearly open my mouth to tell them the truth. It’s not real—even if I wish it was.
“Mom, Libby, maybe we should go out back before anyone broadcasts where I am.” Mia starts to usher us all back into the house, effectively saving both of us from my confession.
My parents’ house hasn’t changed since I was a teenager. Sure, there’s a newer TV mounted to the wall and a different book on the end table next to my dad’s chair, but the familiarity of walking into this house has tension I didn’t realize I had unlocking from my shoulders.
“Dad?” Mia calls and steps onto the back patio.
“Amy!”
Cliff Hudson gave his daughter her eyes and smile, while she inherited her hair from her mom.
“How are you, baby girl?” he asks, stepping into a giant bear hug that has her squealing.
“Daddy.” She’s breathless, but the smile on her face is the first genuine one I’ve seen all day.
My own cheeks stretch in response until he shoots a mock glare my way and puts her down.
“And you. Marrying her without asking my permission first? Without letting me give her away?”
Oh shit. Is he actually pissed about that?
He’d be even more mad if he knew that you spent most of the day in bed with her. A flush stains my cheeks at the thought, and I hope like hell he hasn’t suddenly turned into a mind reader.
“I—”
“Now, Daddy, don’t give Garrett a hard time. It was spur of the moment,” Mia says, stepping next to me and wrapping her arm around my waist.
“Garrett knows I’m only fucking with him, baby girl,” Cliff responds with a wink. “Don’t you, Garrett?”
“Um…” In the moments before Mia had come to my rescue, I’m pretty sure my life flashed before my eyes.
“Quit clowning on my boy, Hudson.” My dad hands Cliff another beer. “And get back to watching the chicken. You burn it every time.”
“I do not,” he argues, taking a drink of his beer.
He does. Every time. And we all know this. But no one else ever handles the chicken.
“Then why is it burning now?” Dad asks with a smirk.
“Shit.” Cliff spins back to the grill, but it’s too late.
Every. Time.
