“Yes,” Tristan hisses. “Exactly my point, Fletch. He will bring the Anderson name into disrepute.”
“He is weird, Mom,” agrees Patrick. “You have to admit it.”
I let out an overexaggerated sigh. “Okay, what is my other choice?”
“You could meet someone new who has kids.”
I blink. This isn’t what I thought he was going to say.
“But whenever he comes over, he will bring his children, and they will have to have a bedroom to stay in. So Harry and Patrick will have to share a bedroom from now on.”
Harry’s face is getting redder and redder; he’s about to blow. “Why does Fletcher get his own room?” he demands.
Tristan sips his drink. He’s loving this. “Because Fletcher is an adult, and he needs his own room. But then . . .” He pauses, as if thinking, for added effect. “Those other kids will use a lot of internet, maybe all the data.”
I drop my head to hide my smile . . . oh, he’s good.
“They’ll also eat all of the food, and they won’t have a skateboard or bike at your house, so you will have to share all of your things.”
The blood drains from Harry’s face as he listens.
“That’s if they aren’t girls.”
“Girls?” Harry gasps as he chokes on his water. “No way. You are not going out with anyone with kids, Mom. I forbid it,” he whispers through gritted teeth.
“Oh.” I frown as I play along. “I kind of liked the idea of having more kids around.”
“Or not,” Tristan mutters under his breath.
“Well.” I smile at the gorgeous, conniving man beside me. “What is my last choice?”
“Me.”
“And why should I pick you to be my boyfriend?” I ask.
“That’s a very good question, Claire,” he says as he takes a piece of paper out of his suit coat pocket. “I have prepared a list of my attributes.”
I roll my lips to hide my smile at his shenanigans.
He unfolds the paper and begins to read from the list of points he has written.
“I’m good looking.”
Patrick smiles goofily up at Tristan. “It’s true; you are.” He bounces in his chair excitedly.
“Oh God,” Harry moans. “Here we go.”
“You don’t have to move to another country and leave your pets homeless and vulnerable.”
I laugh, and Fletcher rolls his eyes.
“You don’t have to share a bedroom with anyone.”
“I’m not doing that anyway,” Harry cuts him off. “Don’t get any ideas, Mom.”
“I’m getting a bigger car,” he continues.
“You are?” I frown. I put my hand out for the paper. “Show me where it says that on the list.”