“Hey, D.” He embraces me in a tight hug. “And Charlie, good to see you again,” he says, shaking his hand. “Come in.”
The second I step inside, Sienna appears, glowing and exhausted and still somehow functioning through pregnancy nausea like a queen. She throws her arms around me.
“D,” she murmurs into my neck. “I’m so proud of you.”
My throat closes. “For what?”
“For surviving your brain for twenty-four hours straight,” she deadpans. “Come in. Sit. Eat carbs before I faint.”
The kitchen and dining space are full, Finn at the stove finishing pasta, Isla setting plates, Vanessa already on the wines, Christian giving play-by-play commentary on Finn’s cooking skills like he’s hosting MasterChef.
“Derrick!” Vanessa beams, sweeping me into a hug before I can brace myself. “Babe, you look like shit.”
“Thanks, babe, you’d look like shit too if you just found out about long lost family,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Kind of exciting, too,” she says through gritted teeth, trying to work out how I am feeling.
“Maybe,” I confess to her.
Finn turns around, spatula in hand. “D, want a drink?”
“Beer,” I croak.
“I’ll get it,” Evan calls out. “Charlie, you want one too?” My man nods.
Everyone is here. My people. My family … before I even knew I had any.
“Charlie, now that you’re here, are you up for a round of golf?” Christian asks him.
“Sure,” Charlie states.
“Great. What’s your number? I’ll add you to the group chat.”
“He just wants you on his team so he can beat Evan and Finn,” Vanessa chimes in.
“Yeah, because Jackson sucks.” Christian moans.
“Sports were not his strong suit.” Charlie grins, which makes Christian laugh.
While the boys talk about golf, the girls and I quickly catch up on things, kids, pregnancy cravings, and me pretending I slept last night, when the doorbell goes.
Everything stills.
Evan opens the door and Jackson steps in, dressed in black, holding a folder, looking like he’s holding state secrets.
“Brother, good to see you,” Finn calls out as he continues to bounce around the kitchen.
“Digging the get-up.” Jackson smirks, eyeing Finn’s frilly apron, which earns him a finger from his brother.
“Beer?” Evan asks, bringing Jackson through, and he nods.
“Evening, team,” Jackson says as he goes around greeting everyone.
“D,” he says, clapping me on the back.
“Dinner is ready,” Finn calls out as he plates up the large serving platters of pasta and meatballs. The boys go grab the kids while the girls start plating up for the little ones.
It takes ages for everyone to wrangle the kids and get them in their highchairs and seats, but once they have their pasta in front of them, the kids are happy. We all take seats around the large dining table and dig in, my stomach not quite feeling up to the meal, but I force a couple of bites into my mouth.
