Page 92 of The Trouble with Flings

“Fitz, it’s lovely to meet you,” my mother says. “I’m Janice, and this is my husband, Jacob. We’re really glad you’re here…with or without cake.”

“Thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Happy anniversary.” Fitz holds out the cake box. “Red velvet with chocolate frosting.”

“That’s all mine,” my father says as he takes the box.

“Grandpa!” Thane complains, and my father ruffles his hair.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll share with the kids.”

“Nice, Dad,” I say, weaving around the kids.

“Hey, it’s nicer than you running off with the rocky road and red velvet ice cream cake on your seventh birthday,” Jace chimes in.

“Can you blame me? That’s the best.”

“Get over here, kiddo.” My father gives me a one-armed hug, holding the cake box hostage in the other.

“Happy anniversary, Dad.” I turn to my mother. “Since Dad always claims the cake, these are for you.” I hand her the flowers.

“They’re beautiful, sweetheart. Thank you.” She hugs me, and I soak in her familiar lavender scent. “You look happy,” she says softly. “It’s no wonder.” Her gaze flicks warmly to Fitz.

Jared leans closer to him and says, “Brace yourself. The interrogation starts in three, two—”

“How about we get dinner on the table first?” my father says. “Jen, Fitz, can I get you something to drink? Wine? Beer?”

“No thanks, Dad,” I say. “Fitz?”

“Sure,” he says. “I’ll take a beer. Thank you.”

“You might need something stronger than beer for this family dinner,” Rush suggests.

More laughter rings out, and then Jayla says, “Everyone under four feet tall, into the bathroom to wash your hands.”

The kids groan, but with some coercion, they scatter down the hall. As the rest of us follow my parents into the kitchen to help get dinner on the table, Fitz falls into step beside me, his hand landing on my back. “Your family’s great, and those kids sure love you.”

“That’s probably because when I babysit, they get to eat ice cream for dinner.”

“I heard that,” Dixie says.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jennifer

The dining room is a cacophony of clinking dishes, conversations, and the chirpy voices of my niece and nephews. Thane asks for more potatoes, and Jayla says he can have them after he eats two bites of his vegetables. Fitz is talking with Rush and Jared about the grand opening, Jace is whispering something to Dixie that earns a sexy smirk, and Mom and Dad are having animated conversations with Max and Kyleigh, while I’m over here with a swarm of bees in my stomach, wondering how I’m going to break our news to them.

We’re having one of my favorite meals, my mother’s famous pot roast, roasted potatoes and vegetables, homemade bread still warm from the oven, and salad. The smell alone could cure most things. But it does nothing to calm those bees in my stomach.

Fitz glances over and takes my hand without missing a beat of his conversation and places it on his leg, covering it with his own. My anxiety comes down a notch. I swear he has a sixth sense when it comes to me.

Beside me, Mia bumps me with her shoulder, eyeing our joined hands, and her smiling eyes say it all. Across the table, Jace gives me an approving nod. I wonder what he’ll think when he learns why Fitz is really here. That thought feels wrong. He is here because his argument made sense, and he should be here for the baby, but somewhere along the way that stopped being the whole truth. If I’m being honest with myself, and Lord knows it’s easier for me not to be, he mattered to me long before we knew about the baby.

Jayla looks up from cutting Kyleigh’s meat and says, “Mom, Dad, how was your trip to Cold Spring Harbor?” They go every year on their anniversary.

“It was lovely,” Mom says. “We had lunch at our favorite café by the water and checked out some new shops. And of course we walked along the pier.”

“My dad proposed on that pier,” I explain to Fitz.

“He didn’t even have a ring,” Mia says. “Classic Dad. All romance, no planning.”