Silas, her husband with the dark hair and the piercing dark eyes, follows her out from the living room. He grins. “I’d say you’ve met them all now, but, alas, there’s always more Hammonds.”
Ivy grins and rolls her eyes. “Two more, actually.”
I laugh. “Big family!”
“Tell me about it,” Silas grins. “There’s freaking five of them.”
Sierra laughs. “Don’t worry, you won’t get the full hurricane tonight. Stella’s got a parent-teacher thing with Carter — oh, that’s her son. And Kyle’s still in New York with work.” She frowns. “And honestly, I have no idea if Rowan’s even showing up. He’s the worst with texts or email chains.”
Suddenly, it’s like a weight lifted from my shoulders.
He’s not even coming tonight.
I silently offer up a little prayer.
Thank God.
And I actually feel lighter — better, more free. I feel like this won’t be the most horrible, embarrassing dinner ever.
“Let’s sit, shall we?’
We all follow Jacob into the dining room and take seats around the big wooden table. Irene and Silas come out of the kitchen carrying a few last dishes and place them down before taking their own seats.
Still no Rowan.
Thank you, GOD.
“Leonard, would you like to say grace?”
My father nods. “Thank you, Jacob.” He clears his throat, and I mentally prepare myself for the type of heavy-handed “Lord smite the sinners” type grace I’m fairly certain most of the people at this table are in no way expecting.
“Blessed Lord, we thank you for-”
His words are cut short by the roaring sound of an engine in the driveway — a loud, rumbling, rude, belching sound.
I look up quickly, seeing Jacob frown.
“Great timing, Row,” Sierra mumbles under her breath.
My father keeps right on talking, saying something about the searing fires of Purgatory, but I’m not even listening anymore.
No no no! He’s not supposed to be here!
The engine shuts off, and as I hear boots clumping up the front porch stairs, my shoulders slump.
So much for that idea.
The front door bursts open, and Rowan comes flying in, some sort of white box tied up with string in his hands.
“Hey! Sorry I’m late, I just-”
My father finally stops, his eyes narrowing at the interruption.
“Oh, oops.” Rowan makes a face, realizing what he’s just crashing into.
“We were in the middle of grace, Rowan,” his father says quietly. “Just take a seat.”
“Sure, Pop. Sorry,” he winces as he dramatically tiptoes to the table.
I grin before I can stop myself, shaking my head and turning, only to see Chastity scowling.
I quickly make a move to follow suit.
And of course — of course — the only empty seat is next to mine. Because I’m being punished for my wickedness, that’s why. Because I’m on the road to hell for even thinking of this man, let alone doing the things I’ve been doing with him.
“Evening,” he murmurs in my ear as he slides into his chair. I ignore him as my father finishes his lengthy grace.
“Amen,” Jacob finally murmurs as my father ends with a plea to God to show no mercy to his enemies. Jacob clears his throat awkwardly. “Thank you, Leonard. Ivy, honey, pass the-”
“We do not interrupt grace in my house.”
The table goes quiet as we turn to my father.
Oh, God, here this goes.
“Apologies, Leonard, I just promised my mom I’d snag cannoli’s at Mizetti’s before I-”
“Wouldn’t stand in my house, son, that’s all I’m saying.”
Rowan raises a brow, blowing air through his lips. “Right. Well, sorry.” He glances at his father who’s frowning, but gives him a nod.
“I think we’ll forgive him this once,” Jacob says with a laugh, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “Mizetti’s cannoli’s go a long way in terms of forgiveness,” he adds with a chuckle. “Pass the salad please, Ivy?”
My father glares at Rowan, clearly not done, but ready to let it go for now.
The sounds of dinner and eating and forks across plates fills the warm, homey dining room. And I’m trying to laugh at the right parts. I’m trying to smile when Silas makes a joke about work, or nod interestedly when Sierra talks about the Master’s program she’s doing at UMass.
But I’m having a hard time with all of it, and it’s got everything to do with the man sitting next to me.
You now, the man I kissed last night, like a total crazy person.
Or maybe because I was slightly drunk.
Or possessed.
Who knows.
“How’s your dinner?”