But the bold audacity of it has her stiffening next to me. Even Ali, his wife of well over twenty years shoots daggers in his direction. Cassidy gears up as if she’s preparing to murder herown brother. Someone—likely Phil—tries to kick him under the table and nails me in the shin instead.
Rhoswen tilts her head to the side as she studies Keene’s face. She doesn’t look hurt. She looks incensed. Which both infuriates me and sends a surge of love through my veins. It hits me in all the places I’ve trained myself to protect since wife number five tried to…
I level a furious stare at Keene who picks up his fork and starts eating as if he hadn’t dropped a turd in the middle of our meal. Ali slaps it out of his hand, snapping, “Did you seriously just say that?”
“What? I just expressed what everyone’s likely thinking.” Keene defends himself.
Uneasy looks pass around the table. Keene’s comment burns because he’s likely right. Rhoswen squeezes my leg beneath the table, giving me her subtle strength. “I’ve been very close-mouthed about my past.”
Keene’s trademark smirk begins to make an appearance but I shut it down by jabbing my finger in his direction. “But that comment? That burns because it was said in front of the woman I’m in love with. It was completely disrespectful. What if someone had said something like that to Ali—man whore that you were?”
Keene’s face transforms into a scowl while his wife and sister both hoot with laughter. Phil shouts, “You tell him, Charlie!” Only for his husband, Jason, to murmur, “Stop being as obnoxious as Keene.”
“But…” Phil sputters indignantly. This causes the usual family laughter whenever Phil and Keene are compared to one another.
To my surprise, it’s Rhoswen who speaks up in Keene’s defense. Her smooth as whisky voice warms my insides when she asks, “Have you ever explained your exes to them?”
“You mean the way I did to you?” I’m incredulous. At her nod, I shake my head frantically. “No! Of course not.”
Like the professor she is, she tries to break down something complex into something much more basic—in this case, Keene’s overprotectiveness. Compassion. “Then it’s completely understandable Keene may have emotions behind whatever facts. Especially if he feels threatened in any way.”
Caleb freezes from where he’s been holding Cassidy back from attacking her brother. Ali blinks repeatedly as if she can’t comprehend someone defending her husband. Keene lays his fork down and studies Rhoswen intently. There’s a long silence before he asks her bluntly, “Were you ever in the military?”
Rhoswen tosses her head back in laughter. “No. I come from a long line of teachers, Keene. As such, my family has experienced every type of defense mechanism associated with adolescent behavior.”
Despite the flush flagging his cheeks, he asks, “Where do you teach?”
“UCONN, Stamford Campus. I’m an associate professor of history who specializes in Renaissance England and Scottish history.”
The second she finishes speaking, multiple voices around the room shout, “Go Huskies!”
Rhoswen immediately makes a fist with her thumb and pinky extended, like a dog, before tilting her head back and woofing in return.
Ali hits her husband. “Leave her alone. I like her.”
He sighs. “Of course you would. She teaches at your alma mater.”
“And Cori’s, Holly’s, Jenna’s…” Then she pauses before flinging a smile in Emily’s direction of the table. “And of course, who could forget you, Finn?”
Finn, Jenna’s husband, is calmly feeding their second child—oblivious to the scene around them.
Thinking I’m saved by the bell by Rhoswen’s timely intervention, I’m flabbergasted when I’m thrown under the bus by my actual nephew through marriage—Mitchell Clifton. He leans around his wife, Austyn, and asks, “You know, Charlie, the only part about your marriages I know are the ones I lived.”
Keene grins at him like a hungry shark who notices chum in the water. “I forgot all about you, Clifton.”
“Thanks, Keene. Makes me think my annual performance review is going to be spectacular this year.”
Beckett Miller—who not only is Mitch’s boss but his father-in-law—interjects, “Your annual performance review is decided by me. Not bonehead over there.”
Then my great-niece Laura, here with her husband and stepdaughter, pipes up. “Actually, has anyone ever heard the whole story about Uncle Charlie and his exes?”
Kalie, my other great-niece who glances at her partner—a dark somber man still getting used to the combined family chaos, muses, “I don’t think so.”
Jon, Laura’s twin and the oldest of their generation, agrees. “I’ve only heard bits. Mostly the dramatic parts.”
Peter, one of Corinna and Colby’s sons, leans forward like the famous wolf he’s grown into. “Wait, there were dramatic parts? How have I missed this?”
Lynne Bradbury-Houde, who was emotionally adopted into our clan as Jenna’s best friend, drawls to no one in particular, “This is better than watching Corinna corral Brendan into cooking.”
