“Nope. Not even a little.” I place a hand over my churning belly. “Let’s go.”
I grab the vodkas, linking my other hand with hers.
“You’re so cold,” she says.
“The car’s A/C.” It’s really from nerves.
She squeezes. “It’ll be fine. I promise. It’s your family. They love you.”
I gaze into her bright eyes. I wish I had her confidence. It isn’t my family that’s the problem. It’s her reaction to them that makes my stomach burn with anxiety. “Promise me—no matter what happens in there, talk to me before you make any decisions.”
She blinks in confusion. “Decisions? Like what?”
To curse at me? To leave? To say your dignity matters more than our relationship?
Of all the people I know, nobody values self-respect and pride the way Max does. Not even Trevor trying to throw money at her could change her attitude. She’d rather starve to death.
The interior is airy and nothing obstructs the view of the ocean. The golden rays from the early evening sun pour in through the soaring skylight over the dining and living rooms.
The kitchen smells amazing. Grandmother undoubtedly hired a caterer for the occasion, since she doesn’t cook.
Everyone’s already in the dining room. Grandmother’s at the head of the table with Grandfather, who looks dignified with his pure silver hair and ramrod-straight spine. My parents sit to one side, and my brothers occupy the rest of the chairs farther down the table. Grandmother even invited Silas. As far as she’s concerned, if you bear the Kingswood name, that’s that, and you should be treated as family. I respect her for it because I’d hate it if Silas was excluded due to something he had no control over.
All the men are outfitted like me, while Grandmother is in a dress that looks like a ballet costume out ofGiselle. Mom’s pearlescent gray jumpsuit would be perfect for the occasion if it didn’t come with a neckline that plunges to her navel.
Four pitchers of iced cucumber-lemon water sit on the table. Grandmother should’ve provided alcohol, too…but of course didn’t. Good thing I brought some.
My brothers silently nod, knowing words are useless.
Max does a quick finger wave at them. They’ve already met over the last three years, so introductions aren’t necessary.
Our chairs are to my grandparents’ left, opposite my parents. I pull out a chair for Max, who nods her thanks and sits down. I take the seat next to hers, placing myself between her and Grandmother like a shield.
“Your assistant isn’t needed. Frederich’s handling everything,” she says.
“Georgia gave specific instructions to bring my girlfriend.”
Her icy eyes flicker. “Am I to understand thatsheis your girlfriend?”
“You are.”
Frederich begins serving the appetizer—mini lamb and mushroom filo triangles. He might as well be deaf from the blasé expression on his face.
Meanwhile, Grandmother stares at me and Max like I just told her I fornicated with a herd of Holsteins.
“Great going, son!” Dad grins. “I knew you had it in you. Brilliant. Great choice. I would’ve done the same.” He bites into his food with gusto.
Mom nods in approval. “If you’re going to go for it, might as well go for a pretty one. They tend to be more pleasing in bed.”
I paste on a smile like this is normal, while desperately praying Max doesn’t flip out.
“Children!” Grandmother says.
Grandfather pats her arm soothingly, which doesn’t seem to do much.
“What did I say?” Dad spreads his arms.
Mom gives a sort of bewildered shrug. “Max is gorgeous. I’d love to have boobs like hers.”
