Ro laced his fingers together on the table and said, “Everyone, welcome to the first official family game night.”
Lane cheered, ever the cheerleader for my husband.
Greyson watched with a quiet satisfaction before pushing off the wall and taking the seat at the head of the table. He held out a hand towards Lane.
“Come here, princess.”
Lane smiled demurely, then rose from the seat on the other side of Ro. His low kitten heels clacked against the hardwood floor as he went to join Greyson.
When Lane took his husband’s outstretched hand, he was tugged forward onto his lap. He giggled softly, pressed a chaste kiss to Grey’s cheek, then repositioned himself so that he sat facing the table but was still curled into Greyson’s side.
I shook my head lightheartedly, still amazed at the strange way they interacted. Although I supposed it was a better dynamic than whatever the twins had with poor Oliver.
God. Never had I ever expected any of them to find a long-term partner, let alone fucking marry them.
To be fair, I hadn’t really expected it for myself either.
I turned my head to the side, really taking in my own husband.
My heart felt so full when I saw him like this. He was radiant.
You could tell just by the look on his face how much he loved spending time with the whole group together like this. I certainly hadn’t expected him to have this side to him when we first met.
When we first met, Ronan had been many things.
Controlled. Restrictive. Lethal. Terrifying—to the men he slaughtered.
A beautiful, dangerous thing I’d been half-convinced would cut his own throat before letting anyone get close.
There had been something so tightly contained about him back then, like every inch of him had been trained to take up as little space as possible unless violence or seduction was required.
And underneath his shiny exterior had been someone living with one foot in death and one in life, drowning in the deepest, darkest lake, with no hope he’d ever get a breath of air again.
Now he was sitting at the dining table of our home, hosting a fuckinggame nightlike a suburban dad—complete with snacks and mostly enthusiastic guests.
The difference still caught me off guard sometimes.
I watched him as he leaned forward, elbows on the table, those otherworldly eyes bright with excitement as he looked around at everyone.
My nephews.
Their husbands.
Their friends.
Their chaos.
Our family.
Hisfamily.
He loved this. Loved them.
Across the table, Hudson tapped his fingers impatiently against the wood. “Uncle Rooooo,” he said, dragging the word out like a bored child. “We’d all like to get started now.”
Hayes nodded once in agreement.
Oliver shifted quietly on the floor between them, leaning a little more into Hayes’s leg as if bracing himself for whatever came next. His hands rested loosely in his lap, fingers twisting slightly in the hem of his oversized cardigan.
