What other choice did he have, though?
“Have you told your family about the baby yet?” Krista whispered as they wandered up the cobblestone path to his mother’s front door.
“No, not yet. Have you told yours?”
She glanced down at her feet. “No.”
He didn’t bother knocking and just opened the door. “We’ll tell them tomorrow, and you can tell your parents tomorrow when you call them, okay?” He reached for her hand and pulled her inside. Better to just rip off the bandage and get it all over with. Almost eighteen weeks, the baby bump was still hideable beneath her baggy pajamas. Maybe they could wait until tomorrow … or at least after dinner tonight to spill the baby beans.
The house was toasty warm and smelled the way you think Christmas should.
The big fake Christmas tree he’d helped his mother buy a few years ago took center stage in front of the giant bow window, while stockings and garland dressed the fireplace and a Christmas village among fake fluffy snow took up the coffee table.
The three other big black Chevy trucks in the driveway and on the side of the road told him that his brothers were already there. Dumb, Dumber and Dumbest, as he’d nicknamed them. Not that they were actually stupid; on the contrary, but they were younger than him and at times certainly acted like it.
But if it hadn’t been for the Chevy dealership out front, the booming loud voices emanating from the kitchen easily gave them all away. Sudden laughter,followed by a “fuck off, you twat!” and then more laughter.
Brock took Krista’s coat from her and instructed her to kick her ankle boots into the hall closet. She was doing just that as he hung up their coats when the voice of his mother and a red velour leisure suit came whizzing around the corner.
“You’re late!” she chastised. Brock rolled his eyes. “Oh well, at least you made it. Was traffic a bitch?” She lifted up onto her tippy toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. She weighed next to nothing. But unlike Heath, the goofball, he didn’t pick her up. Instead, he contorted himself and nearly bent double to hug her back, his body engulfing her small frame until she practically disappeared. She smelled like shortbread and baby powder, and he closed his eyes for half a second, squeezing her just a fraction harder.
Her breath hitched next to his ear.
She’d spotted Krista. Brock released his mother and spun around. Krista was practically cowering in the corner like a lost kitten. His chest tightened, and he fought the urge to wrap a protective arm around her. She was a strong, stubborn woman, though, and would probably bat his arm away.
“Wh-who?” Brock’s mother stammered. Reluctantly, her eyes left Krista and zeroed in on Brock’s.
Shit. Maybe he should have told his mother he was bringing a guest.
“Mum … uh, this is Krista.” He moved out of the way as best he could in the tiny foyer.
“Hi,” Krista said softly, holding out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hart. You have a lovely home.”
Brock’s mother’s midnight-blue eyes, the same shade as Heath and Rex’s, went wide with surprise as they flitted back and forth between Brock and his Christmas Eve surprise. And then suddenly, as if being smacked by an invisible hand, she snapped out of it, took Krista’s hand and gave her a big smile.
Brock sighed inwardly. Not that his mother wouldn’t have ever been anything but kind, cordial and delightful to Krista, but he was still nervous.
“Well, isn’t this a wonderful surprise. Brock didn’t tell us he was bringing anyone. Or that he wasseeinganyone. Lovely to meet you, my dear.” Instead of releasing her hand, she pulled Krista close and brought her in for a hug.
The voices from the kitchen grew louder, and soon three enormous bodies took up the living room, all with rum and eggnog in one hand and cookies in the other.
Heath appeared to have a stack of cookies in his palm. “You came!” he cheered, a big, stupid, cookie-filled grin on his face.
Their mother spun around. “You’ve met her?”
“We all have,” Rex added. “Bumpedinto Krista at the grocery store a couple of weeks ago and had the proper introductions. Right?”
Krista simply nodded, giving each of the brothers, including Brock, a steely glare before returning to their mother and tossing on a big smile. “That’s right!” She eyed the boys again. “I was just coming off work, and who should be following me around the grocery store but three of the Harty Boys.”
Heath snorted. “I like that … the Harty Boys.”
They made their way into the living room and sat down. Rex brought Krista and Brock each a rum and eggnog, and Brock’s mother, who had yet to stop grinning at Krista, decided to shove her son to the side and squeeze in between him and Krista on the love seat.
Oh, this was going to blow up so badly in his face. He just knew it.
“So, Krista, how long have you and Brock been seeing each other?” She laced her fingers through Krista’s.
“I, um … ” Krista looked at Brock for help. Fuck, he didn’t know. Were they seeing each other? She shrugged and turned back to his mother. “A few months, I guess. September, maybe?”
