Strings Attached

“They were always my favorite,” Ashley said.

“Mine too!” I replied.

“Mom’s always raving about music from the nineties,” Zander added.

“Well, it was one of the best decades for music,” I told him, but then stalled out a bit when I realized that part of the reason I had this in common with Ashley was because we were closer in age than Zander and me, which made me all sorts of uncomfortable.

Ross and Trina showed up first. My son knocked, then pushed the door open. “Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas!”

“Wrong holiday,” I called out while Trina playfully smacked his arm. I looked at Zander. “He always does this. I have no idea why.”

“He always tells me happy Valentine’s Day on my birthday. I assumed it was because they’re both in February,” Zander said.

“No, it’s because I’m funny and unique.” Ross grinned. “Do I get to meet Mom and sis?” He was maybe the best son in the world. I loved him for his acceptance of everyone and for his ability to never meet a stranger.

“Mom and Molly, this is my friend Ross and his girlfriend, Trina. Ross and Trina—Ashley and Molly, a.k.a. Bug,” Zander introduced them.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Ashley told him as my son hugged her.

“You too.” He turned to Molly. “I’m sorry.”

“About what?” she asked.

“That you’ve had to deal with Mr. Perfect over here as a brother. He was always showing me up in college.”

“Oh my God! I know, right?” Molly replied.

I watched Zander watching them, my heart almost exploding into a mess of possibly unrequited feelings all over the place.

There was laughing and talking, Molly and Ross teasing about Zander, when his gaze met mine. The gray of his eyes was the brightest I’d ever seen it, an almost glow, full of bone-deep happiness that I would do anything to give him over and over and over again.

And when he smiled at me, I felt it in every inch of my body.

It wasn’t much longer before Warren and George showed up, George fussing about his prime rib in the chafing dish he carried.

More introductions were made. Hours of conversation. Too many laughs to count. More board games and a kitchen full of too much delicious food.

It was one of my favorite days ever.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Zander

It was around six when everyone left. I was exhausted but also had a constant buzz beneath my skin. I’d never known what it was like to have a big family. Mom had friends off and on over the years, of course, but no one who was to her what Warren was to Harrison or Ross to me. Dad was always in and out, sometimes there, most of the time not, so it had almost always been just me, Mom, and Molly. While I loved those times, this was different. There was something to be said for being surrounded by good people you cared about. I was still unsure about Warren, maybe because I was weirdly jealous of him. Honestly, though, I actually liked him but hadn’t been sure he liked me.

I’d been riding a high all day, my brain hyperfocused on preparing for the meal, keeping everyone entertained, and taking care of my family. Soon I’d likely end up crashing.

Something I very much wanted to do in Harrison’s arms.

Stop, stop, stop.

“I don’t know if I can ever move again,” Harrison said, leaning back on the couch.

“Me neither,” I replied. “I definitely didn’t forget to eat today. Are you happy?”

“Yes, yes I am. So I just have to keep turkey and prime rib around the house every day? That will do the trick?” he asked before visibly tensing up. It took me a minute to realize why, and then I remembered my mom and sister were there and that we were very much talking like two people who weren’t just friends.

“Pfft,” Mom said.

Molly chuckled.

Harrison cocked a brow my direction.

My ears got hot.

Luckily, Mom’s cell phone rang. “You should get that,” I said, hoping it would be the change of subject I needed.

Mom fumbled it, looked nervous, winced as she stood. “Excuse me for a minute.”

As she slipped out the back door, a heavy weight suddenly made my stomach drop. I walked to the window on unsteady legs and watched her pace the yard, clearly distraught.

No. No, no, no, no.

Bile burned my gut.

I saw her stop, standing in the backyard light. Slip the phone into her back pocket. Drop her head for a moment, with her back to the house, and her shoulders shook.

I was going to be sick, right there, all over Harrison’s floor. Harrison, who’d stepped up behind me. Harrison, who’d put his hands on my shoulders. Harrison, who asked softly, “Is everything okay?” Harrison, who had the ability to hurt me the way Mom was likely hurting out there.

“No, I don’t think it is,” I replied, and as much as I wanted to lean into him, as much as I wanted him to hold me, I pulled away. I was embarrassed of this, of the mess we were—not just Mom when it came to Dad, but me too. Because I was a mess. I couldn’t even let myself tell Harrison how I felt about him. I couldn’t let myself love him the way he deserved to be loved. “I need to check on my sister.” I went back to the living room, saw Molly with her feet up on the couch, knees to her chest, arms around her legs.