“Do you think anyone’s going to come here, get on their hands and knees and judge our coffee table?” I put a hand at her elbow and help her up. Her belly is getting more rounded,although when she wears a loose dress, like the one she’s in right now, you can’t really see the mini baby bump.
It’s the crazy pregnancy hormones. Sex will cure it,my libido says as hot blood pools in my dick. I ignore my body’s reaction to her nearness. She has a lushness now that wasn’t there before, a sweeter scent. It’s like she’s a flower in full bloom, and my boner leaps up at every opportunity, hoping and praying.
“No. But it’s the first time they’re coming over.” She twists her back.
“No, it’s not.” My libido is right about one thing: this entire endeavor is crazy. She’s behaving as though she’s planning to go through every room in the house to make sure every surface is spotless. There isn’t enough time for that. However, even if there were, I wouldn’t let her. The place is big enough to house the entire U.S. Olympic team. “They’ve been here before.”
“Fine.” She huffs. “First time I’m meeting them—”
“You met at the wedding.”
“Stop being obtuse. I mean the first timehere.”
“So what? They’re your family, too, Grace. Did you go through all this rigamarole when your mother visited? Or when your friends came by?”
“No,” she says reluctantly.
“So don’t do it now. If anyone disapproves of the housekeeping, I’ll tell Tilda. That’s her job, not yours. You are supposed to relax and enjoy the evening.”
She laughs shakily. “Easy for you to say. You’re their brother.”
“Andyouare now theirsister.” I lead her to the dining room and hand her a glass of the bubbly cider. “They aren’t coming over to stress you out. They’re coming to spend time with you and get to know you better. To be a more cohesive family.”
She sits down and takes a sip of the icy cider.
I go behind her chair and rub her tense shoulders, earning an appreciative sigh. “If you don’t make an effort, families drift apart. So my brothers and I have always made sure to meet regularly. Mainly over meals because we have to eat, and it kills two birds with one stone. The Huxleys have the mottopietas et unitas—loyalty and unity. But I feel that more with my brothers and their wives than the Huxleys because I haven’t spent enough time with them.
“The brothers and their wives want to be part of your life, want to bring you into the circle. You’re their family just as much as me. So relax and smile. They’ll love you.”
Chapter Forty
Grace
Maybe it’s because Huxley is standing by my side the entire time—the solid feel of his arm around me, its comforting protective support. Or maybe it’s the decisive way he said his family would love me.
The anxiety that’s been plaguing me vanishes, and I find I can smile with ease when the first brother, Noah, arrives. He’s a wildlife photographer, as well as a social media and carb addict, according to Huxley. He said Noah was lucky to marry the best baker in the county. And his wife, Bobbi, follows from behind. A pretty blonde with dark brown eyes, she towers over me, and has a lanky but ropey body that doesn’t seem to be capable of storing carbs. She gives me the first hug, then Noah.
“We’re the first, yeah!” he says.
“Only because you cut me off.” Grant is one of the two financial geniuses in the family. His wife Aspen is a pretty redhead with a dancer’s posture, spine straight, her limbs supple.
Noah shrugs. “You blinked.”
“You should show more respect for the Bugatti.” This from another brother. Emmett, the one whose mother Huxley respects and adores, and the other financial genius.
“Ignore the boys,” Aspen says, hugging me. “It’s good to see you again.”
Emmett’s wife Amy hugs me too. A blonde with no-nonsense eyes, she works for Grant at the financial firm. Huxley told me Emmett hates it that his wife has to work for Grant, who apparently makes her work too hard and too late. “You look so pretty! I love your dress.”
“Thank you.” I flush. “And yours is lovely, too. That blue really brings out your eyes.”
“Some impression you’re making,” says Nicholas to the brothers. He’s the nice, steady one, according to Huxley. And it turns out that I actually know his wife, sort of. Molly has a popular Instagram account on romance novels that I follow.
She gives the best squeeze, all soft and sweet. “I love your posts,” I tell her. “You’ve recommended so many great books!”
Her eyes sparkle. “I’m so glad! We should compare notes later. And you should totally come over. Nicholas built me the most amazing library. You’ll love spending time there.”
“Hear, hear,” Amy says. “That’s where we go when we want to hang out and read.”
