I chuckle to myself. Arin lives her life in a musical. It’s freaking awesome.
Kira, another one of the kids, sets a child’s teacup and saucer down in front of me. “Here’s your tea, my good man,” she says in a dialect that I suspect is supposed to be British. She sets another in front of Genny. “Here’s your tea, my lady.”
Genny grins in delight. “You’re ever so thoughtful. Do we have biscuits to go with it?”
“It’s pretend.” The seven-year-old’s tone says she doesn’t think Genevieve is very smart. “There’s not really tea in there. It’s just imaginary.”
Genny takes a pretend sip. “And it’s very delicious. I’m imagining there are biscuits to dunk in mine.” She mimes dipping something in her cup before bringing it to her mouth.
“Genevieve is from England, Kira,” I explain. “That’s a real compliment she just gave you. She has real tea and biscuits all the time, so she’d know delicious or not.”
Kira beams. “Is that why you talk so funny?”
“It is. I live way across the ocean in an area of London called Brixton.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” Kira says, half curious, half skeptical that the place exists. “Do you miss it?”
“I do sometimes. But I’ll probably go back there pretty soon.”
“You will?” I try to sound nonchalant. It’s just a question. I don’t really care about the answer.
Though my pulse seems to slow when she says, “If the merger doesn’t go through with Pierce Industries, yes. I will. I’d love to stay here, but I kind of need a job.”
“Oh, right.” Honestly, it hadn’t occurred to me that her presence in the States might be temporary.
I look away so she doesn’t notice it bothers me. Because it doesn’t.
“And now you know why I have to run so much. All those biscuits with my tea make me fat.” Genny pats her slim stomach, and I have to fight not to comment that there is not an ounce of fat on her—I know.
“It makes you fa-at. Makes you big and fat,” Arin sings behind us.
We both turn to watch her. Now she’s moved on from digging to burying blades of grass.
“Yes, Arin’s a strange one,” I say. The five-year-old is also the happiest, sweetest child I’ve ever met.
Genevieve looks at her adoringly, the way I imagine I look at her. “She’s precious.”
Arin’s volume sharpens as her refrain changes. “She’s dead in the trees. She’s not alive anymore, she’s dead.”
“Well,” Genny says, rethinking her last statement. “And morbid.”
“Precious Morbid. That should be her band name.”
She laughs and then glances around at the children who have gathered in the play area. “Are you related to all these little people, then?”
I scan their faces. “Not all of them. I don’t think. I don’t know a lot of them.” I begin pointing out and identifying the ones I do know. “Mina is Hudson’s oldest, of course. Arin is my sister’s daughter.”
“And she just has the one?”
“She has a son too. Tyler. He’s taking his nap. But I think they’re done with kids now. Mira had a hard pregnancy, and she works a lot at her boutique and her husband is a doctor. So I think they have their hands full.”
“I’d say.”
I nod next to the girl serving us tea. “Kira here is Norma’s daughter. Norma is our head finance officer at Pierce Industries. She has an older son she adopted too, Tariq.” I crane my neck to see if I can spot him. “I think he’s over there in the pool.”
Just then, a little boy in a miniature suit runs up to me, excitedly.
“And this is Jake. He’s my man, aren’t you, buddy?” We bump fists before he joins the other boys running circles around the tables.
I look up to see his mother waddling towards us in the distance carrying a toddler in a matching suit. “Be right back,” I say to Genny then run to give Gwen a helping hand.
“I should have known you’d be hanging in the children’s area,” she says to me as I take Theo from her arms. “Thank you. That helps. Now I’m back to only carrying one of my offspring.”
I chuckle as I survey her extremely large belly. “You look miserable.”
“I am miserable. Thank you.” She peers past me toward Genny, who’s now concentrating heavily on her phone, her forehead creased. “Uh, hello. Who’s that?”
“That’s Genevieve, my date.” I emphasize date because that’s what she is, not because I like the way it sounds when I say it.
Gwen eyes me suspiciously. “That’s interesting. You don’t usually bring girls to these things.”
“I don’t usually know anyone I’d care to bring.” I glance over toward Genny and see her pointing her cell toward my niece. My pulse speeds up. “That’s weird.”
Gwen follows my gaze. “What? That she’s snapping pics of Mina?”
“Yeah. Isn’t that, you know, odd? Why would she be taking pictures of some other person’s child?” The reasons I can think of make my stomach knot.
Gwen laughs and nudges me with her shoulder. “It means she likes you, you dolt. She likes your family and wants to make memories. She’s maybe even imagining she’s Mina’s aunt.”
The tension unwinds from my body. “Shut up,” I say, rolling my eyes, but really? It makes me feel all gooey inside.
“Chandler and Genevieve sitting in a tree.” Gwen taunts me with her chant. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”
I shake my head then start walking toward the woman we’re discussing. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”
So maybe it’s strange that I’m still such good friends with the person who broke my heart years ago. The truth is, it wasn’t always like this. It took a good part of a year for me to come to terms with always seeing her, watching her life with JC grow and flourish. Really accepting that I wasn’t the man she chose.
Eventually, I had to figure it out. Gwen’s best friends with Laynie, and our lives intertwine a great deal. It’s been a tough road—for me, anyway—but now our relationship is strong and warm. We’re practically family.
Genny scrambles to put her phone back in her purse then stands so I can give the two a formal introduction.“Two boys? That must be a handful.” She comes up beside me to take my hand, as though claiming me as hers. Which is not at all like her but really nice all the same.
“And another boy on the way.” Gwen pats her belly, acknowledging our linked fingers with a raised brow.
It makes me feel confident and cocky. And a bit sassy. “You know, the sex of your baby is determined by the husband. Maybe you should have picked a different sperm donor.”
I really don’t love Gwen anymore—not like that—but I still like to give her shit about the guy who won her heart. “Where is your significant other, anyway?”
“He’s finding me some watermelon. I need some, like, now.”
Genevieve nods as though she understands. “My stepmother is four months along, and the cravings she has are insane. Good luck to you with them.”
“Uncle Chandler,” Mina says, tugging on my slacks. “What’s a perm dona?”
I have to think through everything we’ve just said before I can figure out what term she’s asking about.
Then I figure it out. “It’s, uh, nothing, sweetie.”
Arin belts out the next verse of her song. “Sperm donor! Spe-ermm!”
Yeah. Whoops. Again. “Maybe it’s time for us to mingle with the grown-ups.”
“Probably a good idea.” Genny turns to my ex. “You have beautiful children, Gwen. So honored to have gotten to meet them and you.”
“You too!”
I look down at where we’re linked as we walk. “You’re holding my hand. That’s unusual, isn’t it?”
“I was playing my part as a date. That’s all.” She pulls her hand from mine with annoyance. “She was an old girlfriend, wasn’t she?”
“Wha-? How did you know?”
“It was a guess. The way you bantered.
There was history in your subtext.”
“I’m over her,” I assure her. “Way over her. Have been for years.”
She smirks. “Awfully defensive, aren’t you?”
I stop walking, grab her hand and tug her into my arms. “I wasn’t being defensive,” I whisper, my mouth at her ear. “I just wanted to make it clear that there is only one woman on my mind these days, and it isn’t her.”
Where the fuck did that come from? They’re words I should never have thought, let alone uttered out loud.
At least they seem to earn me points because Genny closes her eyes, as though she’s taking in my words, soaking in the moment.
“You’re good at this whole pretend date thing,” she murmurs.
“Oh, I’m just getting started.” And then I bend to kiss her. For show, of course. No other reason at all.
After a brief make-out session in the garden, we find my family where I expect them—on the patio off the house. Mirabelle is cuddling with one of the twins while my mother sits, sipping ginger ale and correcting everything my sister does with the baby. Hudson is standing nearby discussing something quietly with our father—business, I’d guess. I meant it when I said he’s always working.
“There you are,” Mom says, lifting her cheek for me to kiss. “I was beginning to think you were too caught up in chasing skirts to even say hello to your parents.”
I ignore her jab, not wanting to draw more attention to my reputation in front of Genevieve. “Where’s Laynie and Adam?” I had hoped everyone would be together when I introduced my date.
Mira barely looks up at me as she bounces the baby on her shoulder. “Adam got called into work this weekend. He’ll join us later. And I think Laynie’s nursing Brett inside.”
“You’ll have to meet them later,” I say to my date. Then I address the small crowd. “Everyone, this is Genevieve Fasbender. She’s from London and she’s here for a month or so on business—hopefully longer, if all works out.” Yes, I’m caught up on the minor detail of her possibly leaving. Much more than I’ve let on.
Even though this relationship isn’t serious, I know my mother cares most about a woman’s breeding, so I say, “We met at the Accelecom Charity Banquet last week.” I’m careful to emphasize Accelecom. “Genny helped put the gala together, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
My mother stands, which is already more than I’d expected, her eyes narrowed as she scrutinizes the woman beside me.
“Genny, this is my mother, Sophia,” I say.
Then I start to pray. I’m telling you—that’s the only way to survive an introduction to my mother. That woman is unpredictable at best.
“So honored to meet you,” Genevieve says with as much grace as a princess.
And with the authority of a queen, my mother says, “Charity functions of that scale are quite an undertaking. I oversee the Pierce Annual Autism Awareness Fashion Show as well as several smaller events. I know the work that goes into them. It’s impressive.”
I lean toward my date. “I think that’s a compliment.” The entire interaction has been a happy surprise.
Until my mother turns her attention to me. “She’s too thin, Chandler. She’ll never be able to carry a baby to term if you don’t put some weight on her bones.”
“Yep. She just said that. Out loud.” We were so close to a perfect start! I let out a long breath, reminding myself it’s not polite to punch your mom.
Unfazed, Genevieve responds with a smile. “Actually, Mrs. Pierce, my size is deceiving. I’m broad in the hips, as is my mother. She had particularly easy births with both my brother and me. I imagine I’ll be just fine.”
“Perhaps.”
Somewhat harsh, but it went…well, better than it could have.
My mother sits back in her chair and throws a scowl at her husband. “Jack, stop ogling the poor girl.”
“I’m not ogling, I’m being attentive.” My father steps in to shake Genny’s hand, and to his credit, is completely appropriate with the length of time he grips it as well as where he keeps his gaze. “Did I hear your name correctly? Your father is Edward Fasbender?” He exchanges a glance with Hudson. “He’s quite a respectable businessman.”
Maybe I was wrong about which parent would be more interested in my date’s family ties.
“That he is.” Genevieve gives her father more respect than I’d give a man who thought so little of me. “I’m honored to be able to work with him, though I’m pretty sure I got the job because of my name.” She winks, and she’s so enchanting when she does that I have to hide a shiver.
“Hell, that’s how Chandler got his job too.” My father slaps his hand on my back and laughs, as though he’s just made a joke.
Now I briefly wonder if it’s bad form to deck your dad but decide to let it slide.
“I didn’t realize you were bringing anyone today,” Hudson says, and I guess that’s his form of a greeting, because he doesn’t offer anything else besides a nod in Genny’s direction.
I hope this isn’t a prelude to how he’ll react when we try to discuss Accelecom and Werner Media. Though that’s business talk. Business talk always cheers him up.
I’m overly convivial in my response, making up for my brother’s lack of cordiality. “I guess Laynie didn’t tell you?”
“She didn’t mention it. No.”
I try not to be too pissed at his lack of manners. He isn’t sleeping well, I remind myself, and he’s not warm under the best circumstances. Maybe I misjudged when I’d assumed he wouldn’t care if I brought a date. Or maybe he’s irritated that I’m mixing business with pleasure. Still, doesn’t please me when he acts like a doucheface.
“Hi, I’m Mira!” My sister pops up from her chair and, with the baby cradled in her arms, nods instead. “Sorry, my hands are full.”
“No worries.” Genny gazes at the newborn. “He’s quite beautiful.”
I surmise she’s about to ask to hold him, but before she can, my mother seems to sense it as well and has to get in first. “Mirabelle, give me that baby. You’ve hogged him all afternoon.”
“He’s a baby! It’s been so long since my babies were babies! But fine.” With a reluctant sigh, Mira hands him off.
My mother settles her grandson on her lap and stares affectionately. “He’s so attentive. Look at how he watches everything around him. Just like you were, Hudson.” She leans down to coo to the baby, “Yes, you are. Just like your daddy!”
Genny frowns in my direction. “Your mother doesn’t seem that mean,” she says so only I can hear.
Nope, today it’s my brother who’s being nasty.
I don’t say that though, and I don’t bother to keep my voice down when I say, “She’s only nice until they’re walking. I think she even liked me when I was still in diapers.”
“Which was longer than she liked any of us, since you were still in them until you were four,” Hudson adds without invitation.
Genny’s eyes light up. “You weren’t. That’s hilarious.”
“Isn’t it?” Mirabelle asks. Traitor.
“Hey.” I sweep my finger in the air, pointing at all of them. “There was enough of you willing to wipe up my shit—why wouldn’t I let you? Hashtag: benefits of being the youngest.”
“Hashtag: spoiled,” Hudson retorts.
“You’re one to speak, Mr. I Get Everything I Want.”
“Because I work for it. Not because it’s handed to me.”
This is how my brother and I tease, but I’m aware as much as the next guy that there’s always truth underscoring Hudson’s words. He’s very opinionated, and he doesn’t mind if people know it.
Usually, I can handle him. Today, I prickle at his innuendos. “Are you done?” Because I’d like to get past the bullshit and start a meaningful conversation. Preferably one that lets Genevieve show off her beautiful brain.
“Actually,” he says, “I wondered if we could talk for a few minutes.”
“I’ve already told
you, H.” He hates it when I use his wife’s nickname for him, so I use it a lot. “You have to choose to share to your selected friends list and not public if you don’t want Mom commenting on your stuff on Facebook. The list she’s not on. Remember? I helped you set it up.”
“Chandler,” my mother says, not looking up. “You’re not funny. I know how to use Facebook.”
“Yeah, but does Hudson?”
Genevieve at least thinks it’s funny. She covers her mouth with her hand to hide her giggles.
Hudson, however, does not appreciate my humor. “Cute,” he says dryly. “Let’s talk.”
“Fine. Shoot.”
“Privately. Please.”
“Uh…” I consider insisting we talk here, but his expression says he’s not budging. And I can guess what he wants to talk about—he wants me to catch him up on the dinner the other night. It wouldn’t be appropriate in front of Genny, but it might be my opportunity to talk her up.
I place a hand on her arm and am about to ask her if she’ll be okay with the wolves when my father interjects. “Not now, Hudson.”
Hudson seems reluctant. “It will only take—”
“It can wait,” Dad insists.
I’m willing to slip away and get the business taken care of, especially because I’m more interested in convincing my brother to consider what the Fasbenders can bring to Werner Media since Genny made her remark about returning home.
But before I can say so, Laynie shows up with a swaddled baby in her arms. “H, you aren’t trying to work, are you?”
His smile is tight, and his eye twitches, and in the look that passes between him and my father, I’m suddenly very nervous about what it is that he has to say to me. Now I’m not sure I want to get it over with or postpone it as long as possible.
Hudson decides for me. “Of course not, precious.” He puts his hand affectionately around his wife.
It’s not long before I’ve forgotten all about business myself. Instead, I’m holding the littlest baby Pierce, staring into her blue-grey eyes, and trying not to imagine it’s my own baby I’m snuggling.
Definitely trying not to imagine who I’d want her mother to be.
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