“And they want us to go to Scotland with them.” Patrick waved his hand dismissively. “Something about recovering stones and floorboards.”
“They want us to go this weekend,” Andy said.
“Wait. Does that mean you’re actually going along with this? You’re stuffing a medieval castle into a Dutch Colonial?” I asked. “Does no one care about concept anymore?”
“It’s like a turducken,” Riley said.
Matt pressed his fist to his mouth in a poor attempt at concealing his laughter, and while I should have found some humor in Riley’s commentary, I couldn’t. I was too stunned at the idea Patrick would bow to anyone like this.
“We wouldn’t do that,” Patrick said. “We can work with floorboards and stones, but we won’t be digging any moats.”
“So you’re going to Scotland,” I said. “This weekend.”
“Possibly.” Patrick shared a smile with Andy that didn’t feel entirely appropriate, considering it was Monday morning and four people were watching. They were always doing that—looking at each other and saying things with infinitesimal shrugs and furrowed brows and quick smiles. They could probably go an entire month without speaking to each other and not miss a beat.
Riley leaned to me, asking, “What are the odds they come back married?”
It was amusing to watch a blush climb up Patrick’s neck and across his face, and it was even better seeing him and Andy exchanging tense glances while they pretended to be engrossed in their screens.
I handed over a twenty. “I’ll take that bet, and my money is on no,” I said, my eyes on Andy. “Princess Jasmine looks like she’s about to castrate you and Optimus might hold you down while she does it.”
“Yeah, Riley,” Shannon said. “Not everyone needs to get married fourteen minutes after they meet.”
Matt leaned forward, his arms folded on the table, and he glanced at Riley and me. “Did she just insult me?”
“Sam, why don’t you tell us about Tiel?” Andy sat back with a smug grin and gestured around the table. “I know everyone would love to hear about her.”
I wavered between wanting to tell them everything about Tiel, and hiding her away and protecting her from their breed of friendly. I wanted to prove to them that I was capable of keeping something good in my life, even after everything we’d been through, but I was also greedy. Sharing her with my family meant just that—sharing—and they were grabby little bastards. It would be only a matter of time until Lauren and Andy adopted her into their yoga-and-farmers’-market routine on Saturday mornings, or Shannon’s Thursday night drunken pedicure outings.
I wasn’t interested in surrendering that time to them.
Not when I could have Tiel surrendering to me.
“Or maybe we should talk about Thanksgiving, Shannon. What’s the plan?” I asked.
“I’m not going to be in town for Thanksgiving. I have reservations at a spa in New Mexico, and considering the shit you all put me through on a daily basis, I don’t want to hear any whining about it either,” Shannon said. “I’ll order everything from the farm like I usually do, and I can have Tom pick it up, but I won’t be the one reheating it. You’re grown men. Figure it out for yourselves.”
“So I’m hearing two things,” Matt said. He pointed to Shannon. “One, it’s really shitty that you’re just now mentioning this a week before Thanksgiving. Lauren and I will have Thanksgiving at our place, and fuck you very much for waiting until Sam brought it up. It’s not like you’ve hosted for the past fifteen damn years or anything.”
“See? The newlyweds want to do it. Let them trot out their new crystal and china. Crisis averted.” She shook her head and kept her eyes on her screen.
Matt pointed to me. “Two, I think we’d all like to hear about Tiel.”
Patrick said to Matt, “You’re going to love this story. You would have enjoyed seeing this firsthand.”
“What were you even doing at that event?” I asked him. “If you were going to be there, I certainly didn’t have to.”
“You were getting a fucking award, so yes, you did have to be there,” Patrick said. “And stop evading.”
I rolled my shoulders and sighed. They had me cornered. “I’m seeing someone,” I said. I was aiming for casual although I’m certain it came off as defensive. “Her name is Tiel.”
“And she’s acollege professorand aviolinist,” Andy added. “She’sverypretty and wasn’t even wearing hooker heels. And I’ll go out on a limb and say they’ve known each other for a while.”
Riley kicked me under the table. “Is this the same chick you drunk dialed last week?”
“Oh.Oh,” Matt said, frowning at me. “So we’re talking about a real girl? An appropriate, adult, professional woman?”
I ignored Riley and glared at Matt. I knew he was not referring to age. “She’s a couple months older than me.”
