But Nancy was already at the drawer, pulling out one of those plastic bibs that actually had a lobster on it, and Lydia looked horrified.
“And you can put one in your lap too.”
Her dad set the ribs down in the center of the table, and then took Wesley from her while her mom accosted her with bibs.
“Once the baby of the family, always the baby of the family,” Matthew said. “Even when there’s a literal baby.”
Lydia looked flat as she sat down at the table, but once all the food was laid out in front of her, she couldn’t look grumpy anymore. And her frown gave him something to focus on other than how pretty she looked, even with the lobster bib.
Corn on the cob, macaroni and cheese, ribs, dinner rolls, coleslaw and a key lime pie as well as a coconut cream pie. This was home. This was family.
So why do you think you don’t know what family is?
Maybe his attitude was a poor tribute to this family that had given him so much. Maybe.
But there was a division between him and them. And he honestly didn’t know if a few years of being part of this clan could erase the heritage of his actual blood.
If he could bring himself to care even a little bit more about his dad, then he might feel sorry that the old man had gone to the grave without ever knowing the joy of real family. Without ever understanding it. Remy might feel slightly outside the circle, but at least he knew it was real.
At least he knew it could be.
Lydia picked up her rib and began to nibble at it delicately. Then she put one finger in her mouth and licked barbecue sauce away, then her thumb.
She was a virgin.
That knowledge echoed inside him as he watched the way her tongue moved over her own skin.
What the hell was wrong with him?
She shouldn’t have told him she was a virgin. That was the bottom line.
He looked down, forcing himself to focus on his food.
There was conversation going on around him, but it was difficult for him to track. He looked down at Hank, who was staring at him balefully. And he gave the dog some meat off his rib.
“No feeding dogs at the table,” said Nancy, as if he was fourteen years old, but part of him appreciated the rule.
“Poor Hank has been through a lot,” said Lydia.
And again, he sort of felt that they could be talking about him.
“It’s true,” Remy said. “He has. I’m trying to make up for it.”
When it was time to serve pie, Lydia got up to make coffee, and he couldn’t help but take notice of her long legs, showcased to perfection by the short white dress.
She really should wear dresses more often.
“Success,” Matthew said. “You’re barbecue sauce free, Lydia.”
She gave her brother a thumbs-up, and treated him to an irritated facial expression, but then brought the pot of coffee, along with mugs, back to the table.
Remy decided to assist with serving pie, and then after he had laid out plates for everybody, took one piece of each for himself.
Lydia did the same and started sipping her coffee.
He had just about shoveled the last bite of pie into his mouth when Lydia made an outraged noise. “Oh, of course,” she said. “I spilled coffee on this like I have a hole in my lip.”
“We’ll just clean it right away,” her mom said.
