“Bring him, sweetie. The more the merrier.”
“I’m sure Ashton has shit to do,” I grumble.
Ashton’s hazel eyes gleam with devious wickedness. “Nope. Me and my girlfriend have no plans. We’ll be there, Mrs. Murphy.”
Fucking suck-up.
I shoot him the bird.
“Wonderful! Your father is going to be so pleased. We’ll pick up six steaks then. See you around six, honey.” Then to Ashton she says, “Can’t wait to meet you, sweetheart.”
He struts around the room like a fucking rooster. “Me neither. Can I call you Mom? My mom is a drunk—”
“See you then,” I bark out, cutting him off. “Love you. Bye.”
“This is going to be so much fun.” Ashton grins like the fucking devil. “Maybe Mom will show me pictures of you from when you were little. Lots of embarrassing shit that I can fuck with you over from now until eternity.”
“Fuck off and don’t call her Mom.”
“No can do, dude bro. Already did. It’s a thing now.” He nods to the bathroom where the shower is going. “Go fuck your boyfriend and then help me make breakfast. Mia is going to need her energy after last night.”
I fling the blanket off my body and stride over to the bathroom, secretly delighted over the fact that I just shut Ashton up—the guy with a never-ending commentary—with my naked ass.
A small part of me is apprehensive over the idea of Ashton and Mia being in my childhood home, but a bigger part is kind of excited.
I have friends now.
I’m happy.
Mom and Dad are going to be so fucking shocked.This is weird, right?
I’m going with my boyfriend to have dinner with my ex-almost boyfriend and his boyfriend at my ex-almost boyfriend’s family’s house.
God.
It’s so weird.
Ashton laughs, already reading my mind. Bastard.
“What?” I grumble as we park behind Drew’s truck in a driveway to a normal, ranch-style home—a home that would probably fit inside my parents’ palatial living room back in California.
“Relax, MiMi. Brayden’s parents can’t possibly be any worse than ours. And if they are, we can all go back to my place after and toast to horrible parents everywhere.” He grabs my hand and tugs me close so he can kiss my lips. “If it gets weird, we’ll bail. Promise.”
The tension bleeds out of me as I climb out of Ashton’s Audi. Drew and Brayden are already walking inside. Ashton takes my hand and guides me up the steps, squeezing to let me know he’s there.
The scent of brownies fills my nostrils as we enter the small home. My stomach grumbles and I bite back a grin, knowing Ashton will be thrilled to eat brownies.
“My babies,” a woman with dark hair says. “I missed you two.”
She pulls Drew and Brayden in for a hug. It’s cute seeing them together, though I wonder how Brayden’s parents will deal with learning they’re an item now. It makes me wonder if they’ll tell them at all.
“And who are these two cuties?” she asks, grinning at me with a smile that matches Bray’s.
“I’m the hot friend Ashton,” Ashton says, “and this is my even hotter girlfriend, Mia.”
“Lovely to meet you,” she chirps, pulling us in for a motherly hug too. “I’m Molly.”
I don’t expect to get choked up over a hug from a woman I don’t know, but I do. I have to bite on my lip to keep from crying. Why can’t my mom be like this?
“Tim’s outside, checking the grill. I’m working on a salad,” Molly says. “It’s so nice having a full house. I’m happy you all could come tonight.”
“I like my steak still mooing,” Ashton says. “Does your husband know how to cook steak or does he char everything like your son’s boyfriend? Drew’s bacon is shit.”
Drew shoots Ashton a sharp look and Brayden just rolls his eyes. Molly laughs, clearly entertained by Ashton.
“Come on, rude ass,” Drew says, grabbing Ashton’s arm. “Let’s go say hi to Tim and he can smack you around with his spatula a bit.”
Brayden shakes his head as they go out the back door.
“You kids want to help me in the kitchen?” Molly asks.
I nod, completely out of my element. I can’t remember the last time I helped my mom in the kitchen. I once tried to help the chef, curious about how to cook, and my mom flipped out on me and said never to embarrass her like that again.
Molly hands me several different vegetables and a cutting board and knife. I take the tomato and slice it down the middle, and then again. Then I realize, aside from cutting up the occasional piece of fruit or making a sandwich, I’ve never actually made a meal. I get all my food from the cafeteria or order in. I try to imagine how I like my tomatoes in my salad. Usually a bit smaller, but since I have no clue how to cut them any smaller, I nervously move on to the next vegetable, hoping I’m not messing up her salad too much. Mom is super picky about the presentation of the meals that are served in her home. Everything is about appearance with her. Hopefully Molly isn’t the same way. Because there’s no way the hack job I’m doing on these vegetables is going to look pretty.