"What do you mean?"
"I'm not a great guy."
Chapter Two
A week had passed since that interesting conversation with Evan Wright. I'd done my best to get him out of my head. He kept popping up at the most inconvenient times-an appealing but uninvited guest crashing my mind.
I twisted my hair into a tight knot and finished applying makeup. Ironically, Best Day of My Life by American Authors was the next song on my random playlist. Very coincidental because I had a feeling this was going to be the best day of my life.
Marley knocked on my door. "I made breakfast."
"Be right down."
In the grand scheme of things, I'd never imagined living with my sister and her husband after graduating college. But my job didn't pay a great deal and they'd offered. I'd tried moving back home, but things were very crowded there. My mother had married the man of her dreams. Hell, he would be the man of any girl's dreams. Rich, powerful and handsome, but perhaps Damien Wolfe's best quality was his ability to be humble despite all those other things. I think he was the only man alive who could make my mother give love another chance.
Mom never thought she'd have kids again, but with Damien she'd changed her mind. They'd gone to India to adopt one child. They'd come back with three. Triplets, who they named John, Paul and George, in keeping with the musically minded naming strategy that had become a tradition in our family. Damien often joked that it was good they weren't quads or we'd have a Ringo. I loved my brothers, but they'd just turned three and tore through the house like a hurricane, making it difficult to get any writing done.
I headed to the dining room of Marley and Rick's spacious house, surprised to see my entire family there. I paused at the foot of the steps just watching them. For a long time it had been the people who shared my blood who'd made up my family. Now I realized how it wasn't just the people who shared your DNA, but the ones you picked up along the way who made you whole.
Dillon was Marley's best friend, but we'd adopted him as an honorary brother the day Marley had brought him to dinner and he'd started rearranging our furniture. Adam had been our annoying neighbor forever, so he'd already been in our fold, but Marley and I had figured out he was meant for my sister, Stevie, even before she had. Now they were married and had a five-year-old son, Robert.
"There she is," my mother greeted, spotting me. "You look beautiful."
"Thank you. What are you all doing here? Did you come to wish me luck?"
They all exchanged puzzled glances. "Actually, the boys were playing golf today so we just tagged along and thought it would be nice to have breakfast together," Stevie answered. The guilt on their faces was almost laughable.
"Oh."
"What is today, kid?" Dillon asked.
"My boss wants to meet me for brunch."
"Why is that special?"
"For one thing, it's Saturday and for another, they were supposed to announce who got the feature position yesterday but didn't. I think it's me."
"That's great news, honey," my mother said, carrying a plate of fruit. Damien took it from her, holding it high above the three little boys who danced around his knees.
"You only get a piece when you're sitting," he said.
My mom crouched so she was eye level with George and signed Damien's words to him. We'd all wondered why George was late in talking. A few months ago, we'd received the devastating confirmation that he was deaf. It tore my mother's heart. She had always used music as a means of communication and that was something she wouldn't be able to share with George.
Mom and Damien continued to search for specialists that could help, but in the meantime they'd hired a sign language teacher. More of a coach, really, and we'd all signed up. None of us wanted George to feel left out, or to miss the chance to be part of his childhood in any way.
"Everyone ready to go?" Rick, Marley's husband, asked.
"You're not eating?" Marley asked.
"We have an early tee time. We'll eat at the club," Adam said, stuffing a piece of sausage into his mouth. He winced as he chewed. "I think the sausage is bad."
"They're soy sausages," Marley explained. "Soysages."
"Never mind then. They're not bad … just gross."
Dillon stared at Marley's massive bookshelf in the living room.
"Go ahead, you know you want to," she said, patting Dillon on the back.
"Honestly, I have nightmares about this bookshelf." Dillon immediately set about bringing order to chaos, something his OCD personality craved. Thankfully, we always had stuff for him to do.
"Be good for your mom," Damien instructed the boys, "and maybe we'll go out for ice cream tonight."
They jumped up and down before attacking him. And for their benefit, Damien toppled over like Gulliver on his travels.
"You're taking them for ice cream?" Stevie asked, her trademark pout showing itself. "We never got ice cream."
"It's dairy-free frozen yogurt. They don't know the difference," my mom, the vegan, proclaimed, winking at Stevie. My sisters and I shared a bittersweet look, knowing yet another generation would be subjected to her strict food guidelines.
"Are you going to be a good boy, Bobby?" Adam asked.
"Are you?" Bobby retorted.
Adam shook his head at Stevie. "Why does he do this?"
"The pediatrician says it's perfectly normal for him to challenge us."
"Turning every question back on me is not a challenge. It's a battle for alpha male." He turned back toward his son. "In case you're keeping track, I'm winning."
Bobby grinned, showing off the most adorable gap in his front teeth. He tipped his angelic face toward Stevie. "Daddy said I was poop, Mommy."
A hush fell across the room as Stevie narrowed her eyes toward her husband. "What?"
Adam held up his hands. "Seriously, you really think I'd call my son poop?"
"He did, but he used another word. He did!" Bobby screamed, running around the room.
Stevie crouched to Bobby's level, taking his pudgy hands in hers. "Sweetheart, when did Daddy say this to you?"
"This morning," the little boy said, feigning tears.
Adam shook his head, muttering something incoherent.
"You know Daddy loves you and he would never say something like that to you."
"Then why did he do it? I am not poop."
"You're telling tall tales for such a short little guy. Refresh my memory, son of my loins. When did this happen?" Adam asked through clenched teeth.
"I said I am the funniest boy in the family. He said that I was number two and he is one. Number two means poop. You said so, Mommy."
We all started giggling. Bobby put his finger in his mouth, possibly trying to defuse his mischief with a cute, impish smile.
"That came out weird and you know it, Bobby," Stevie said.
"Told you so," Adam replied, mussing his son's mop of thick dark hair. "We should go before this kid gets me into any more trouble."
"He's like an evil genius," I said, fixing Bobby's hair.
Bobby rewarded us with a look of pride before placing a bucket on his head, smacking it, and running around the room proclaiming, "I'm a human drum!"
"Or maybe he's just evil," Dillon replied.
"Funny," Adam said, picking up his son before he ran into a wall.
"You sure you don't want to come, Dillon?" Damien asked.
"Nah, I'll hang with my girls today. Besides, next week you guys are watching the kids and we're going on a spa day."
"Sounds like a plan," Rick said.
"Man, you sure you want to volunteer for that?" Adam asked. "This crew is rowdy."
"I should get used to it," Rick said, walking up to Marley. He placed a hand on her waist. "I didn't get a chance to ask. How are you feeling?"
"Good. No morning sickness today."
He kissed her cheek then fell to his knees and kissed her waist. The sighs of all the ladies echoed through the room.
Adam picked up Bobby and hugged his wife. Damien gave my mother a deep kiss before my brothers pulled them apart, trying to get in one last wrestling match with their dad. He managed to pick all of them up in his arms and embrace Mom at the same time.
"Any requests?" I asked Dillon as I approached the stereo.
"Ladies' choice."
I didn't even think about it as I scrolled through the list and put on Drops of Jupiter by Train-a song I'd been listening to at an alarming rate for the past week.