Headstrong Like Us (Like Us 6)

“Fuck yes.” Donnelly smirks more. “You asking Oscar too or what?”

“To be a groomsman.” I nod. “But I only have one best man.”

That rocks him back. “What?” His eyes redden, more overwhelmed. “Really?”

It had to be Donnelly. Only Donnelly.

As much as Oscar means to me, he has a brother and a sister. Donnelly has no one, and he’s willing to take scraps and share. And fuck, I just didn’t want him to have to share this.

“Yeah.” I smile and stick a piece of gum in my mouth. “You’re an infection I can’t rid.”

He laughs and rubs his eye. “You should call a doctor. Get that taken care of.”

I chew slowly, still smiling. “I am a doctor.”

“You must not be very good then, man.”

I laugh hard, and I shake my head. We both know I never tried to get rid of him. I never wanted to. I had no siblings too, and for whatever reason, he chose to hang around me. For over a decade.

And when I get married, I want him by my side.

The air is light and easy-going until Donnelly asks, “When are you gonna tell Oscar?” His brows pinch.

Shit.

Nerves roil my stomach. Yeah, I’ve been nervous about Oscar’s reaction. More now. Because if Donnelly thinks he’ll be upset, then I might be fucked.

I run a hand through my hair. “Sometime soon. Just let me tell him.”

Donnelly nods, and the baby wails. I retrieve the stuffed parrot from my back pocket, and Ripley quiets a little bit once it’s in his grip.

Donnelly adjusts his backpack. “I’d hug you but you’re wearing a hug-blocker.”

I grin, and our heads turn as Maximoff walks into the foyer like a jock swimmer crashing a rebel hideout under schoolyard bleachers.

“You come to assist Farrow with his daddy duties?” Donnelly banters.

Shit, I’m smiling at Maximoff. He sometimes looks like a deer caught in the headlights when my friends rib him.

“You need me?” Maximoff asks me seriously.

It reels me in hard. “Later, I will.”

He tries to subdue his smile, and then he notices the business card Donnelly slips in his backpack. “That happened just now?” He gestures to the card.

“Yeah, and I’m gonna be the best best man there ever could be.” Donnelly squeezes me around the shoulders in a side-hug. Careful of the baby strapped to me.

Maximoff radiates the happiness that I’m feeling, and my smile grows. He asks Donnelly, “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

“Nah, busy tonight.”

I know he’s mentioned not wanting to get too close to Xander. The last time he became a buddy-guard, it didn’t end well.

We say our goodbyes, and the door closes behind Donnelly.

Maximoff nods a few times. “So that went well, huh?”

I suck in a breath. “There’s still Oscar.”

“He loves Donnelly, too. I bet he’ll be fine with it.”

I nod. “We’ll see.”

Ripley drops the yellow parrot. He wiggles in the sling, fussy, and he’s eyeing Maximoff with wide doe-eyes. Yeah, yeah, I understand wanting to be in wolf scout’s arms, but come on.

Maximoff isn’t grinning though, or rubbing in the fact that Ripley is literally begging for him. He’s staring off at the front door, like he’s waiting for someone to barge through.

“Kinney is in a security vehicle in the driveway,” I tell him. “She should be inside soon.”

He takes a breath. A short one.

That’s not who he’s worried about.

His parents aren’t home yet. If they miss this dinner tonight, it will crush Maximoff. I want to brace him for that reality, but he’s been so hell-bent on uplifting their strength. They’ll get through this soon, he’s been saying.

If you ask me…

I’m just not so sure they will.

16

MAXIMOFF HALE

I check the time again.

There’s only so long that I can stall this dinner. Xander hovers around the kitchen island, eyeing and salivating over the giant bowl of mashed potatoes. My sixteen-year-old brother is minutes away from just digging his hand into the food.

“Do we really have to wait for Mom and Dad?” Xander asks, opening a silverware drawer.

I’m filling up a bottle with formula, and I easily reach over and shut the drawer before he can grab a spoon.

His mouth is agape.

“Yeah, we have to wait. They shouldn’t be much longer.” I have faith they’ll get here tonight. I texted my mom and reminded her about the importance of this dinner. She said they’d both make it. I screw the cap on the bottle and glance tensely at the oven clock.

They’ll be here.

At the breakfast table, Farrow cradles the chubby-cheeked baby and murmurs in his ear. Helping him relax. I hang onto the sight for an extra second or five. He’s a good dad—I knew he would be.

Farrow is patient. Chill, even with shrill piercing cries. Protective and so goddamn caring. He cared about Ripley before he was even in our arms.

I pass Farrow the bottle, our fingers brushing, eyes fastening, and my chest rises as this moment takes hold and settles in. We’re raising a child together.