“Caution,” Sophie barked. She was the referee and rule arbiter as the rest of them broke into teams, and as usual, she was being a stickler about the proper way to play charades. “Double clue warning.”
Angie stuck her tongue out, and Sophie brushed her shoulder. Sisters!
Striking a pose, her uncle stood tall with his hands on his hips.
“A person,” Alex called out.
Matt tapped his nose and pointed. Then he held up three fingers.
“Three words,” her mother shouted. Matt tapped his nose again and pointed at her.
Then he stood silent for a moment.
“Oh, my god,” Aunt Wendy moaned. “Hurry up, old man. Some of us have short attention spans.”
Her uncle waved off his wife and focused on the team. With narrowed eyes that indicated seriousness, he put two fingers on his forearm.
“That’s syllables, right?”
“Yes, Mom,” Angie chortled.
“Okay,” she continued. “So it’s a person. There are three words, and the first has two syllables.”
“That’s my girl,” her dad said with undeniable warmth in his voice.
“Ignore him and continue. I think I’m getting the hang of this.”
She and Sophie looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Their mother was a compulsive competitor. She loved any sort of a challenge and played to win. Even if pouting or changing the rules were needed.
Matt held up one finger for the first syllable. Then he held up seven fingers. Alex growled and then yelled, “Mickey Mantle.” Uncle Matt looked at him like he was crazy. “What?” he drawled while giving them all a dose of stink eye. “He said it’s a person and seven was Mickey Mantle’s jersey number.”
“Good one, son.” Her dad chuckled. He and Alex slapped a hearty high five.
Uncle Matt gave her brother a withering look, crossed his arms, and pretended to shiver.
“Yeah, no shit, we’re cold,” Angie snapped. “Come on, Alex. Use your fucking head.”
Through a lopsided grin, Sophie declared, “Swearing penalty—Blue Team.”
Matt clapped his hands to get their attention and tried again. Her mother sat up straighter. Once again, Matt held up seven fingers but touched each one individually to show counting.
“Wait,” Ashleigh called out. “First syllable, right? Is it,” she paused and then blurted out, “the letter G?”
He tapped his nose enthusiastically and pointed at her. Then it was the second syllable. For that clue, he pointed at each of them and then circled his finger.
“Group,” Alex said.
“Gang,” she added.
Matt shivered.
“Us?” her mother queried.
Matt quickly pointed at her, grinned, and tapped his nose.
“Now, we’re cooking with gas,” she chirped.
Angie thought. G – us. G – us. “Gus?” she hollered.
Matt’s shivering got an overload of theatrics.
Alex shook his head at her. “Gus? Really? Jesus Christ, Angie.”
Matt slapped his hands together, did a little hop, pointed, and tapped his nose.
“Jesus Christ, Angie?” her mom muttered.
“Jesus Christ Almighty,” Alex barked.
Across the sofa, Parker looked on and chuckled. He was next to his mom with an arm draped over her shoulders as they relaxed with their feet up on the coffee table. Aunt Wendy and Meghan were in the midst of destroying a bowl of popcorn while her dad smiled indulgently at his wife.
The boastful Red Team. Angie sneered in their direction. Damn them. They’d won every round so far and were taking great delight in being assholes about it.
Sophie held up the stopwatch. “Less than a minute, Blue Team, and then it’s overtime for dummies.”
“A’right,” she yelled with her arms up. “Focus, team!” She looked at her uncle and carefully enunciated, “Je-sus Christ …?” but dwindled off at the end with a question on her face and in her voice.
Matt clapped his hands, pointed, and tapped his nose.
“Come on, team. A person. Three words. First two are Jesus Christ.”
The Red Team started whispering and threw up a group high five. Shit. They had it, didn’t they?
Her mom muttered, “Son of God. Damn. That’s three more words. Where the heck is Ed when we need him?”
Sophie thought the comment especially funny and laughed merrily. “Thirty seconds.”
“You guys suck,” Alex muttered. He hated losing. It was against his nature. In that regard, he was his mother’s son.
Her mom threw up her hands in resignation, huffed, and sat back heavily. Only she and Matt continued to hope.
“Jesus Christ carpenter. Jesus Christ CEO,” she yelled out with desperation.
Sophie made an obnoxious buzzer sound and threw it to the other team.
“I’m embarrassed to be seen with any of you,” her dad snarkily proclaimed.
Aunt Wendy cleared her throat and pretended to speak into a microphone. “Jesus Christ Superstar—for—the—win!”
Her side of the sofa exploded in loud groans while Dad quipped, “Ash, really? We saw the Broadway play five times.”
“Are you implying I’m losing it?” she shot back with a considerable pique rolling off her words.
Angie saw Sophie cut off a chuckle before they looked at each other and winked. Then her sister wet her finger and made a hash mark gesture on an imaginary scoreboard.
Their dad sputtered and rushed to negate his wife’s snotty taunt, but she shut him down by saying, “Yes, well, that’s what happens, I suppose, after I’ve massaged your ego for thirty-nine years.”
Wendy and Matt howled with shouts of knee-slapping laughter.
Like a scene from an old familiar classic movie, their handsome dad raised both hands and smoothed back the sides of his hair. Then he adjusted his invisible tie. It was all so Cary Grant-ish that she and Sophie giggled from reflex.
“When addressing me, you may use Your Excellency or my full name of Cristián Gabriel Alejandro Valleja-Marquez.”
Her mom groaned and playacted going limp by flopping backward on the sofa in a slump.
It took a little time, but eventually, Meghan got over her awe of the Marquez family and felt confident enough to join in their verbal skirmishes. She vamped it up with a bad girl wiggle, puffed her hair like Mae West, and drawled to her mother-in-law, “Does he make you call him Don Cristián in private?”
Her mother shot upright and pinned Alexander with the funniest expression Angie had ever seen. Even Parker reacted with a gaping mouth.
“No, you don’t!” her mother growled. Gasping with outrage she barked, “Alex?”
“Mom.” Alex chortled. “I promise. She’s kidding.” He scowled at Meghan, who simply shrugged and blew her husband a cheeky kiss.
Angie and Parker exchanged amused glances. Neither one of them doubted for a second that those two were averse to role-playing in the bedroom. She felt a flush creeping up her neck at the thought.
Carmen came bustling in with a strawberry shortcake that made her mouth water by how yummy it looked.
“Happy Anniversary,” she cried out.
Angie had been sure of three things her whole life.
First, she had terrific siblings.
Second, that she adored Parker Sullivan.
And third, that her parents had a committed, deeply loving relationship. One they never hid or tried to minimize. It was one of the great universal truths she shared with Alex and Sophie—that the love their parents had for each other came first. It was the bedrock of everything that came after.
She made her way to Parker’s side and wrapped her arms around his waist while she watched the love fest unfold.
Her dad took her mom’s hand and kissed it while she beamed up at him. When they looked at each other like they were doing now, the rest of the world faded away.
A long, emotional sigh took all the air from her lungs. Parker�
��s arm around her tightened, and she rubbed her cheek on his chest.
“It’s our anniversary too, ya know,” her dad said to Carmen.
Carmen smirked, blushed, and waved her parents off as if it was no big deal, but everyone in the room new differently. Carmen’s mama had worked for the Valleja-Marquez family for many years. She was a part of Angie’s grandparents’ and great-grandparents’ world. When Ashleigh Dane broke down and agreed to marry the family heir apparent, Carmen had stepped up and taken over as a new generation formed. She’d been their friend, confidante, and all-around troubleshooter ever since. Oh, and she knew where the skeletons were buried and the incriminating pictures hidden.
The shortcake was promptly divvied up and devoured. Carmen, as usual, melted away at some point, leaving the nine of them to begin winding down the anniversary get-together.
Emotion seized Angie when she looked around the room. This was the first time they were together as a family in this configuration. With her and Parker as a couple—Alex and his wife and Sophie. The thought wedged in her throat.
She’d worn a long skirt—one of those gauzy Boho style things that she paired with an off-the-shoulder top. Early February made for cool nights, so she had left her hair down to tumble around her shoulders. Brushing a wayward crumb off her pillowed breasts, she adjusted the sapphire heart necklace resting just above.
Legs crossed, she shifted in her seat and caught the glint of gold and silver coming from her anklet. A sly smile played on her lips.
Nodding at the pretty jewelry, Meghan murmured, “Pretty.” Her voice held a real compliment.
“It’s sweet, isn’t it?” She held up her foot for a brief second, caught Parker’s smirking gaze, and bit her lip.
Meghan noticed the exchange and immediately snickered. “Angelina Marquez,” she murmured in an amused, husky voice. “Did you let the old pervert collar you?”
Angie gasped. Her eyes went wide, and she stared at Meghan. “How the hell did you put that together so fast?”
“It’s the heart lock. Dead giveaway. He’s got the only key, right?”
She tried for a poker face, but it wasn’t working. “Am I blushing?”
“Yes, and it’s adorable.” Meghan grabbed her in a hug. “I’m happy for you.”
She didn’t know what to make of this reaction, so she bit her lip a lot and played with her hair.
“Don’t overthink it, sis,” Meghan chided. “I could tell what you were thinking, and frankly, I’ve been curious how Parker would respond.” She shrugged. “Not everyone understands these things. The symbolism.”
Fear, anxiety, embarrassment, doubt—all of it shot into her center. Not for her. She didn’t give a flying fuck what anybody thought. But she’d die if her needs reflected on Parker in a negative way.
“Shit, Red. Does anybody else know? Oh, dear god. What have I done?”
Meghan grabbed her hand, pulled them away from the gathering, and marched to the terrace. She groaned when the damn swing came into view. Why did every conversation involving her and Parker take place on this swing?
Pushing her down, Meghan sat next to her and turned her body so they faced each other. And then she ripped out a lecture in her teacher voice that made Angie pay attention.
“You haven’t done anything. Stop thinking that way right now. I knew we should have talked about this months ago when it dawned on me how observant you are.”
“You and my brother,” she groaned. “I can’t help it. You two are like crack for an addict. A sex addict, I …”
“No. Shit, Angie. Stop right there!”
She jerked slightly at the firm tone her sister-in-law was using.
“Leave the sex out of this. That’s a whole different story so cut the melodrama. Everyone has their kink. Everyone,” she emphasized. “But you aren’t sporting an engagement ring and an ankle collar because of what floats your bedroom boat. Sweetie”—she sighed—“hasn’t this just pretty much always been your dynamic with Parker? Going back to when you were a kid. I know it is—you’ve said so.”
Wrapping a curl of hair around her finger, she groaned. “Aw, jeez, Meghan. I can barely function if he’s out of sorts or unhappy. The only reason I took my music lessons seriously was because it made him smile when I played. Or sang. I’m not sure how I survived as a working human when we were apart.”
Meghan nodded. There was something all-knowing and comforting about it. “Marrying the man wasn’t enough. I said so to Alex when you were angling for bitch of the decade over the whole engagement ring affair. Something was missing.”
A fresh horror overtook Angie and a groan ripped from her throat. “You’ve discussed this with Alexander?”
“Only in general,” Meghan quickly assured her. “Face it, Ang—at some point, we all wondered aloud what the fuck you were doing.”
She squirmed from the disapproval in her voice.
“And where Alex is concerned, believe me, he goes out of his way not to think about you in the Biblical way with his best friend and fellow pervert.”
“Diplomatically stated,” she gritted out.
“You’re not the only one, ya know. And I’m not referring to me and your brother.”
“Wait,” she murmured. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“We’re a diverse group.” Red sniggered. “And yes. Maybe. Well, I’m not sure, but questions have been asked.”
Relieved, she peeked at Meghan through the shield of her hair and whispered, “He gave me an actual collar too and Meghan, oh my god. It’s so beautiful. The anklet is a replica I can wear every day.”
“Is that what you wanted? For him to make that pledge? It’s a big deal, Angelina. I hope you’re not messing around.”
The moment of truth with someone who understood—to some degree. “I don’t like the words,” she began but stuttered to silence when Red cackled with laughter.
“Preach, sister!” she hooted. “The words drive me crazy right up until the moment when none of that matters.”
“Thank god you agree. And Meghan, for really real. I’m not messing around. Parker is my emotional gyroscope. He’s always been at the center of everything, and when it’s just us alone, I can’t surrender fast enough. I’ve never known anything like this. The feeling is so strong. I want to take care of him and do whatever I need to for him to be happy. It’s scary sometimes, and for a long time, it didn’t make sense. And then I saw you and Alex together. You feel the same way.”
“I do, but I won’t pretend it’s not complicated. And challenging. I’m not afraid of Alex’s darkness or the demons lurking inside, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to live with the beast he keeps on a tight leash. Just remember, Angie. It’s not about sex. You’re handing Parker an awful lot of control. You have to be willing to be completely open. Understand?”
“Thank you, Red. I needed to hear that.”
“And as for the collar thing, I say you go gurl. Ownership is a powerful aphrodisiac. I’ve got the ink on my ass to prove it.”
“Sounds like the final act of the evening is starting up.”
Meghan turned her face toward the house. “I didn’t realize I married into the Von Trapp family. Does every family event include a sing-along?”
“Hell, yeah!”
They started walking back to the house. “How’s thing one and thing two? You don’t seem as tired tonight.”
A snort of laughter met Angie’s observation. “That’s because your bully of a brother and his beastly dominant way made me lie around all day and do nothing more strenuous than get up to go to the bathroom.”
“He’s just being careful.”
“Oh, I know, and believe me, I love the attention. But I’m not used to picking and choosing what I can and can’t do every day. I’ve always been active, and I think it’s challenging for both of us. He hovers at every doctor’s appointment and has a damn list of questions.”
“Sophie is sailing through her pregnancy.”
Angie agreed with Meghan’s statement.
“Is that the ‘Bridal March’ I hear?”
Pausing for a listen, she nodded and said “Yep. They’ll go through all their wedding music.”
Meghan’s faced flooded with joy.
Angie started to join her, and then she remembered what going through her parents’ wedding music would lead to. A distant humming in her ears made her breath catch. Cold dread met a sudden rush of heat and she shuddered.
Aw, shit.
He caught the panic-stricken expression on his fiancée’s face the second she and Meghan came into the foyer. Shocked doesn’t come close to describing the feeling. What in the world could they have discussed that would trigger such a reaction?
Somewhere inside him, a creaky spigot released a microscopic bead of apprehension. He hoped a deluge wasn’t about to follow.
Practically hiding behind one of the arched columns so he could study Angie’s face, Parker focused on her like a witness on the stand. She was keeping her head down—a sure sign that his desert angel was intentionally using her hair as a shield.
After Meghan split off to follow Alex, he half expected Angie to come looking for him, but she didn’t. Instead, she stared at her parents and chewed a fingernail. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and she had an unusually pale look.
As Alex banged away at the piano and Uncle Cris descended the staircase with his aunt by his side, the tune of “Here Comes the Bride” went from dignified to something decidedly honky tonk. Everyone laughed and started mugging around. Everyone except Angie.
When the singing started, he moved to her side and shielded his little love as best he could—even though he wasn’t sure why. She didn’t look at him, and he stiffened.
Nothing about the impromptu family concert was unfamiliar. He’d seen his parents and Angie’s parents play this out many times over the years.
First, Uncle Cris rivaled Elvis with a heartfelt crooning of “I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You” as his aunt wiped away a tear. Then they did a rollicking good impersonation of Sonny and Cher singing, “I Got You Babe.”
His dad and Uncle Cris belting out “Can’t Take my Eyes Off You” to their wives was solid gold. So were all four parents harmonizing through a beautiful “We’ve only just Begun”—sung so poignantly that everyone except Angie sniffed away tears.
Everlasting (Family Justice Book 6) Page 21