It doesn’t go over my head that she brought Iris’s favorite and not mine, but something about that makes my insides warm.
“You’re the best, Mrs. G,” Iris says, taking the box of cupcakes from Tilly’s hands.
“What about me?” I ask as Iris pops open the lid to a dozen cupcakes. My eyes instantly find one of my favorites. One.
“I didn’t forget you, sweetheart,” Tilly says as she slips off her coat and takes the seat next to Dad.
I’m not going to get grumpy about one cupcake. She could’ve left me out entirely. “Thanks, Ma.”
“I had more, but they sold out before I could snag them from the front. Sorry, kiddo.” She smiles at me, and I know she would’ve brought me more if she could’ve.
“It’s okay. I would’ve had to spend hours in the gym trying to work off all the sugar and butter.”
“Not all women want hard planes,” Tilly says to me like my body isn’t a work of art.
“Do you want me a little softer?” I ask Iris as she stuffs half a cupcake between her sweet lips.
She chews the cupcake, holding up a finger while she swallows. “As long as you don’t make me work out or give up cupcakes, I don’t care how much time you spend in the gym or how hard your body is.”
“Good,” I tell her, but the cupcakes are better than the gym. I’m not one of those gymbros who lives for working out. I do it to keep in shape and because I don’t get much exercise standing behind a bar all day.
“Everything sorted?” Ma asks Dad.
“Sorted,” Dad replies with a soft smile.
“Good,” she breathes, placing the side of her face against his shoulder. “I can stop worrying so much.”
Dad and I bark out a laugh.
“That’ll never happen, doll,” he tells her.
Tilly’s a worrier. Always has been. Always will be. But we both chalk it up to her past trauma. I know losing my mom at an early age has shaped how I act in ways I’ll never fully be able to understand, no matter how much therapy I do.
“I just want all my kids to be as happy as we are,” she says to my father.
I turn my gaze to Iris, who’s in cupcake heaven. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my entire life. If not happy, then content. Everything around me is comfortable, which is a feeling I don’t think I’ve ever had in such abundance before.
“I’m happy,” I tell her, reaching into the box to get my lone cupcake. “Tate’s happy. That leaves Mason. He can be your new project.”
She groans. “He’s been a project since the day he was born.”
“Of course he is… He’s a Gallo,” Dad tells her, and no truer words have ever been spoken.
20
IRIS
One monthlater
I stare at the ground, nearly folded in half, with my hands on my knees and almost hyperventilating. My parents will be here in a few minutes, and the two families meeting is not only starting to feel overwhelming, but also possibly the worst idea ever.
In the dictionary, the definition of uptight has a photo of my parents, along with their names. Proper doesn’t even begin to describe them. I have no idea how they’re in my DNA because I’m nothing like them.
And Brax and his family are the total opposite. They are free to be who they want to be…who they are meant to be. There is never any judgment about anything. Sure, they make fun of one another every chance they get, but it is never mean or cruel, trying to get someone else to conform to their norm.
Brax’s hand is light on my back, moving in soothing circles. “It’ll be okay, Iris. You have to relax before you pass out.”
They liked Lucas. Well, liked him before he broke my heart and ran out of a wedding they footed the bill for and still had to pay for, even after he split. He was like them. Buttoned-up, boring, and just like the perfect type of person that’s portrayed on television. He was fake, and they ate that shit up too.
