Beyond Eighteen(28)

Chapter Twelve


~ Max ~





Backing off of Wilson while she lay there ready to be with me was so difficult. Everything in my body was fighting against the responsibility of heading downstairs to have dinner with my family. Going down there right then was like sticking my hand into a wasps’ nest. I knew I was about to get stung. How could I not? Calvin had always been the one that looked for Dad’s acceptance. He just played the “fuck it” card so he’d never have to admit how hurt he was by our father’s lack of confidence in him. And now…he’d never get the chance. Once Cal found out I was left in charge…the shit would hit the fan and splatter the walls. What a fucking mess.

I looked over at Wilson. Her hands were stretched above her head and she was spread so perfectly across my bed. I could see her firm nipples pushing against her top. Damn, really? I pulled at my pants, trying to make a little room.

“Stop lying there like that or else I’ll lock this door and have my way with you and we’ll never get down there.” I walked over and pulled at her ankle. She lifted her hand to me and I helped her off the bed. Yeah, we’re going to do this…face my family together.

Wilson swung her arms up around my neck and her hands tangled in the back of my hair. Damn, she’s beautiful. Her full breasts pressed against my chest and her stomach brushed perfectly across my hard-on. Her eyes cased my face and I could tell she wanted me to kiss her; instead I dragged my hands up her hips to her waist and pushed her away, just enough to make her groan.

“Well, your choice,” I told her.

“You’re right, my choice,” she answered as she let go of me and snatched my grey hoodie and slipped it on. She caught me smiling while I watched her.

“I can’t very well go down there looking like this,” she said as she pointed to her nipples, rock hard, protruding through her thin top.

“Well, I have to,” I groaned as I pointed down. She smiled back. “Let’s just go down there and get through dinner as fast as possible, okay? No dessert,” I bargained.

“No berry pie?” she teased as she slipped her fingers behind the buttons on my fly. I felt the heat of her hands weigh against my erection as she pulled me closer.

“That might be negotiable,” I teased as I kissed her on the tip of her nose and pulled her out into the hall. “Listen, if the conversation at the table gets too heated, we’re out of there. Okay?” I made sure she looked at me.

“We’ll just get up and leave?” she questioned, unsure of what she’d just heard. Her stunning blue eyes dropped from mine, her shoulders slumped, and her body language told me that she wasn’t comfortable with my suggestion.

I leaned down, swayed into her, and gave her my best pouty lip ever. Her eyes narrowed and a smirk came across her face before she caved and kissed me. I pushed my hands to either side of her face and kissed her like she was the best berry pie I’d ever tasted.

“Trust me,” I growled.

“I’ve always trusted you,” she whispered.

“Good,” I answered before heading downstairs, Wilson in tow.

When we came around the corner into the kitchen Dan was helping Camille carry food out to the table. Wilson rushed past me and took the salad from the counter and followed them. I watched her fit right into my family just like she had since the first day she met them. She was everything I’d ever wanted. I grabbed the platter of blackened sea bass and traipsed behind them.

“Oh, Maxi, thank you sweetheart, just set it there in the middle,” Mom said as she gave me her “good job” rub across my back.

Before I knew it everyone was sitting down at the table. It was strangest thing—Camille and Dan sat in their normal spots across from Calvin and me. Wilson took the spot between my mom and me. Nobody sat at the head of the table. Nothing was said; no action was set into motion to acknowledge the vacancy that was so obvious in our lives. Maybe none of us wanted to bring attention to the fact that this was our first family dinner together since Dad had died.

I watched Mom fall into the routine she’d been a master at for my whole life. But this time Dad wasn’t there to start the chain of dishing up first and passing it on. We sat there like a bunch of lost soldiers waiting for their commander to tell them what to do. The silence screamed how raw our loss still was.

“Here, Nancy, why don’t you start?” Dan broke the silence, picking up a basket of rolls and holding it out to her.

She managed a quivering smile as she nodded her head and took the basket.

“I remember when your father got this basket from one of our favorite restaurants in New York. I never liked it, but didn’t have the heart to tell him,” she said amiably as she set the chunky, loosely braided wooden basket on her plate and unfolded the peach cloth that covered the rolls. Her hands, pale and thin, moved like they always had any time before. But this time it was different; suddenly I noticed how vulnerable she was. She continued like we had asked her for her side of the story. “God, every time we were in New York, we’d have to make a special trip into little Italy and have dinner at Pellegrino’s. This one night, your father was being…well, your father. We were being impish, and I dared him to take the basket. Just tuck it under his arm and walk out with it.” She smiled, her eyes glazed a little damp with her memories.