I finally turned around.
Wes stood at the kitchen entrance in a crisp white button-down and a pair of khaki pants that hugged his thighs obscenely. His shirt was rolled up to his elbows, offering a perfect view of his thick, hairy forearms and strong hands. His salt-and-pepper hair was combed back, his expression caught somewhere between tired patience and deep concern.
God, I loved that man.
I popped a slice of cheese into my mouth and chewed thoughtfully.
“Because,” I said, “it’s game night.”
Wes stared at me. “Babydoll.”
“Yes, darling?”
“There aretwo adult menbound to chairs in our dining room.”
“Mhm.”
“With duct tape.”
“Yes. Is there a problem?”
He dragged a hand down his face.
I turned back to the counter, reaching for the grapes. Presentation mattered. Just because the evening’s entertainment involved mild torture didn’t mean the snacks couldn’t be elegant. I took my job of being an uncle and de facto party plannerveryseriously.
“You told me we were hosting anormalgame night,” Wes said as he stepped behind me and wrapped himself around my waist.
I snorted.
“Wesley.” I glanced at him over my shoulder. “Do you honestly believe your nephews would be satisfied with charades?”
Wes sighed.
Greyson might tolerate a board game for Lane’s sake, but Hayes and Hudson would last approximately four minutes before someone lost a finger.
And that was before alcohol.
The only person I could see genuinely enjoying a “normal” family game night was Josh, and he wasn’t even technically a part of the family. Although, he and Dorian were close enough, and were the only couple who I could count on for showing up to every Sunday dinner I hosted. The others were a hit or miss, hence my creation of family game nights.
I’d threatened each nephew and bribed each of their partners in order to ensure they all attended the inaugural event, but once they realized what my games entailed, they’d be eager for more.
“I thought maybe Monopoly,” Wes muttered weakly.
I laughed outright at that. “Your family commits homicide forfun.”
“That is a gross exaggeration.”
“It’s not good to be in denial, babe,” I chimed, leaning back against his chest.
Wes hugged my midsection tighter, groaning. “I’d like to pretend I didn’t raise fucking hellspawn for just one night…”
I shook my head, placing a small bowl of olives onto the tray. The spread was shaping up nicely—cheeses, meats, fruit, and crackers. I’d even made spinach dip.
Family bonding was important.
Having a family was everything.
Wes watched me in silence for a moment before speaking again.
