Delivering History (The Freehope Series Book 4)

by Jenni M. Rose

  Dylan looked suitably appalled.

  “You don’t have siblings,” she said, defending herself before he could say anything. “You don’t get to say anything.”

  “When I was thirteen, I went through every drawer in my parent’s room, when they were out of town, and found a huge bottle of lube and a bunch of sex toys.”

  The funniest part was that his admission was still tinged with horror, as if he could still picture it in his mind. Alex laughed, a deep, rolling belly laugh that made everything in her world seem lighter. She laughed until he started laughing, his cheeks pinking as their eyes met, filled with mirth.

  “I’d almost blocked it out,” he admitted. “I was hoping it was gone forever.”

  “I’ve seen Owen naked. Like naked, naked. That image isn’t going anywhere anytime soon either.”

  “Do I want to know how you ended up seeing your sister’s husband naked?”

  “I climbed into bed with them,” she told him with a careless shrug, though she knew good and well that wasn’t something he would expect her to say.

  Walked in on Owen while he was changing maybe, or stumbled into their house unannounced, would have been acceptable.

  Sliding between the sheets with her twin and her boyfriend at the time, not so much.

  “You…” He couldn’t even finish the statement which only made it funnier.

  “Let’s talk about you,” she said, waving her hand as if she were done with the subject. “What have you been up to?” Oh, he wanted to argue. His mouth opened and closed, his eyes serious and assessing. “How’s the party planning coming?” she asked, charging the silence with a sort of chagrinned surprise. “Not sure who gets the final say out of the four of you on what Peter and I have been suggesting.”

  “You knew,” he said softly after a moment of stunned silence.

  “Not at first,” she said mildly, sitting up and propping herself on the arm of the couch. He sat opposite her, wrist slung casually over his bent knee, his foot on the couch. One flick of her eyes told her his junk was proudly on display, Dylan not trying to cover himself in any way. He smirked at her when she met his eyes again. “But once Peter started explaining some of the details, it had your fingerprints all over it. Fancy party, big investing firm, lots of old Boston money looking to be impressed.” She shrugged. “Still, it’s good experience for me and free publicity. As long as it goes well, there’s no downside. Not thrilled you went behind my back.”

  “We weren’t even on speaking terms,” he reminded her. “I did the best with what I had.”

  “I appreciate it. If I was a total amateur, Peter wouldn’t have taken me on, no matter how hard of a sell you gave him. And Bill is so impressed with Jenna, I’m not sure he would have let her walk away after that first dinner, even if I didn’t take the job. Your plan may have backfired on you, hotshot. Bill’s trying to poach your summer intern. Hard. He even offered to put in a good word for her if she applied at Boston College.”

  “I went to Harvard,” he reminded her. “I can help her get into a better school.”

  “And Andy already signed a waiver and letter of intent with you,” she supplied, knowing that Jenna wouldn’t back out on Dylan when she’d already committed. “But really, how’s the planning coming along? Must be a lot of work.”

  “I hired a party planner, Lex. I get the final say, but everything you and Peter suggest goes through her before it gets to me. I just say yes, yes, no, and carry on.”

  Her eyebrows raised and she poked him with her toe. “So, you’re on your own with this party thing.”

  He gave a quick lift of his shoulder.

  “You planned this whole thing, didn’t you? This wasn’t some party you were having and worked me into, this is something you cooked up completely,” she said quietly.

  “Could be,” he hedged. “Worked out well for you either way, so a win is a win.”

  “You don’t have to make opportunities for me, Dylan. I appreciate what I get; I’m not about to look a gift horse like Peter Fitch in the mouth, but I want to make it on my own. If I can’t do that, then I’m doing something wrong.”

  “You’re not doing anything wrong, Lex, and your skills are impressive in their own right. Sometimes, though, especially in Boston, it’s not about how good you are—”

  “It’s about who you know,” she finished for him. “I get it. Like I said, I appreciate it. But you can’t do that.”

  He grabbed her hand in his and pulled her toward him, laying her across his chest again and holding her there.

  “My parents are going to be there,” he said quietly. “I thought I’d leave the decision up to you as to whether you meet them before the party or at the party. We could always have brunch with them the next day. Dinners tend to be stuffy and formal, not exactly like they are with your family. Brunch tends to be more laid-back.”

  “You don’t think they’ll like me,” she surmised. “Or approve. Which one?”

  He rubbed a hot palm down her back, his fingers brushing the top of her butt. “I just think they’re a different vibe than you’re used to,” he admitted. “And I’m not about to throw you to the wolves without preparing you. My parents want me to marry someone they choose, someone they know will follow in my mother’s footsteps of heading up charities and being a professional arm-holder. To them, it’s all about appearances and the family name.” He slid down, his hands coming to hold her cheeks as his eyes met hers, the seriousness there absolute. “I want you, Lexi, and you know that. They’re my parents and I love them, but they might not like you and I together. We’re going to have to go in knowing that and just dealing with however that shakes out. As long as we do it hand in hand, I don’t care what they have to say.”

  That wasn’t what she’d been hoping to hear. Not knowing how to proceed, she deferred to him. “Whatever you think is best,” she said quietly. “But please don’t spring the baby on them. I don’t want them to accuse me the way Grant did. That really hurt, Dylan.”

  “I know it did, babe.” He kissed her, full and sweet. “Let me see if I can set up a brunch with them. I’ll warn them about the baby so she’s not a surprise.”

  She shook her head and tried to pull away from him. Suddenly, everything felt wrong again, the topic of his parents like a bucket of ice water splashed over her warm and fuzzy libido.

  “You know,” she started. “Maybe it’s better if we just forget it. Beth’s baby shower is the next day anyway, and I’ll have a lot to do to help get ready for that too.”

  “Don’t do that,” he said quietly, grabbing her forearm and holding her still. “Don’t pull away from me again. Don’t let them get in our way.”

  “They’re your parents.”

  “I don’t see you letting Charlie run your life,” Dylan countered. “They’re my parents, so yes, I love them but they don’t make my decisions for me. Never have, never will.”

  It still felt wrong. Alex liked when she and Dylan were alone, their personalities complimenting each other and making for a promising relationship. But when the outside world poked its head in the door, a whirlwind came in, throwing everything out of whack, the puzzle pieces scattering in the harsh breeze of real life.

  Backing out of meeting his parents seemed like the best choice. It was what she really wanted to do. But her pride wouldn’t let her walk away that easily, her spine stiffening at the thought of someone not liking her because she wasn’t good enough for their precious, rich baby.

  She scowled, annoyed with her own thoughts because Dylan was far better than that stereotype. He wasn’t some arrogant prick that needed his money to make him interesting or lovable, he just was.

  “What’s with the face?” he asked gently.

  “You’re not an arrogant prick,” she growled, unable to shake her annoyance, and the absolute discomfort their conversation had brought her.

  Dylan let out a sudden laugh, clearly not expecting her answer. “And this makes you mad?”

  S
he shook her head. “It wouldn’t make sense if I tried to explain it. I…I don’t know what to say about meeting your parents.”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” he said, his lips turned down at her expression. “We’ll do the party and then Beth’s shower. My parents will fit in where they fit it. Or they won’t.”

  Yeah. That didn’t do anything to make her feel better, sandwiched somewhere between being his dirty secret and the person he knew his parents would hate before he even introduced them. Was one option better than the other?

  No. They both pretty much sucked.

  12

  If Alex were the kind of person who folded under pressure, she’d be origami by now. She’d thought creating fun little bite-sized desserts for Dylan’s party had been a challenge. A good challenge to be sure, but finding just the right bites for just the right crowd had stretched her culinary legs further than they’d ever been stretched.

  Because they didn’t plan for a sit-down meal, everything was being served in courses as finger food. A group of Peter’s sous chefs had done the appetizers and mini main courses, tiny bites of filet mignon, and salmon mousse. It was an interesting way to feed people, unpretentious while still presented by the most well-known chef in the city.

  And her.

  She’d walked into Dylan’s building that day, only to be shown to a reception room off the lobby, where she was met with a huge banner, her Bad Girl of Sweets logo looking her in the face. She’d stopped short, arms full of pre-made puffs, ready to be filled. Jenna, ever the trusty assistant had laughed and if Alex wasn’t mistaken, preened a bit.

  That was her handiwork, after all. It was her hand-drawn caricature that people would see when they walked into the reception area, taking in the banner.

  The first two courses were done with, and she and Peter were working triple time, getting the desserts out and making sure every tray was perfect. Hers were takes on classics, just a bit elevated and tweaked. Peter’s were masterful, a far superior form of molecular gastronomy, that fascinated her, but was well beyond what she wanted to make. While delicious, the desserts didn’t make her feel anything inside.

  That was what she liked about baking and feeding people. Sometimes, if she got it right, a certain food or flavor would evoke a feeling, either in her or whoever was eating it. Something that reminded someone of the cake their mother made for a special birthday or the time they splurged on dessert on their first date. She liked nostalgic food, classics that could be twisted a little but still recognized. Things like maple-pecan eclairs or handmade mini tarts, made with Peruvian dark chocolate and vanilla-bean meringue, which was basically a rich person’s version of a s’more. Peter’s stuff was out-of-this-world creative, things like ginger caviar and maple foam.

  She and Peter stood across from each other at the doors to the reception area, checking every tray that went through the doors, making sure every plate was exactly the same. She’d been on her feet for hours, the basketball she carried around in her stomach getting heavier by the second.

  When the last tray went out, Peter sent her a proud smile. “Nice work, Alex. This has been the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

  She had to agree and nodded in return, hoping she didn’t look as dead on her feet as she felt.

  “I’m just still blown away that I got to do this with you,” she admitted. “I don’t care if Dylan pulled the strings for me. This has been the highlight of my career and I can’t thank you enough for taking me on.”

  Peter’s brows drew down as they strolled into the kitchen for cleanup. “He didn’t pull that many strings.”

  Alex shrugged. “He always says, it’s not always about what you do but who you know. He knows you and he got me the gig. Hell, he made up the gig so I’d have something.” She met him with laughing eyes. “My womanly pride will prevent me from gushing about him meddling in my career, but I’m not so proud that I would miss this shot to work with you.”

  “I like you, Alex,” Peter told her, leaning against a counter. “And you’re talented as hell. I’d work with you anytime. In fact, I see more collaborations in our future.” He looked pointedly at her stomach. “How long did you say you have left?”

  “One hundred and fifty-seven years,” she deadpanned, starting to wonder how she was going to make it another thirteen weeks. She felt like she was already as big as a house.

  Peter laughed. “Well, if I’m still alive, you come see me. Anytime. Call me. Stop by. Whatever you have to do, you get in touch, and we’ll figure something else out. Until then, let’s keep up with the social media and give each other a boost.”

  “Hey!” Dylan popped his head into the kitchen. “You ready to come out?”

  She’d shooed him out of the kitchen in the very beginning of the party, telling him he couldn’t bug her when she was working. He’d stayed away, but now that the last plates were out, it was time to walk the plank.

  Meeting his parents.

  Her family was out there too: her brother, both of her sisters, her brothers-in-law, and Jenna. Charlie had stayed home, claiming he didn’t want to drive into the city, though Alex secretly wondered if he wasn’t taking advantage of his time alone and going on a date. Hell, she hoped so. He deserved to be happy again just as much as the rest of the Walkers did.

  “Give me a minute to clean up,” she told him.

  He stepped into the kitchen, looking completely out of place in his designer suit, but he still ruled the room. The waitstaff watched him, waiting to see what he was doing. Peter stood a little taller. He held everyone’s attention.

  “I think you look beautiful,” he whispered when he reached her, his hands finding each side of her stomach.

  “Let’s make sure to get you an appointment with the eye doctor this week,” she joked, grabbing a fresh chef’s jacket from her bag.

  Peter put one on too and they both suddenly looked clean and fresh. Alex quickly checked her hair in the reflection of a paper-towel dispenser. She didn’t look too bad, shaking her hair out so it was loose down her back. She threw a glance over her shoulder as Dylan and Peter both watched her.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  It was kind of embarrassing, someone actually announcing them when they entered the reception area. With everyone’s eyes on them, Alex became acutely aware of the room and its occupants as she stepped into the crowd, her belly leading the way. Dylan, for his part, held her close, the smile on his face never faltering for a second. He walked her through the crowd, people parting for them and giving a gentle yet strange type of golf-clap. She kept the smile plastered on her face, hoping it looked more like she was happy to be there and less like she was being electrocuted.

  Dylan, bless his soul, made a beeline for her family. The relief Alex felt, when she stepped into her circle of people, was palpable, her shoulders relaxing as her smile turned genuine. They all congratulated her, patting her on the back and raving about her desserts. She listened to them prattle on, taking a glass when Dylan handed it to her. He silently watched her family’s conversation, the smile on his face telling her he was entertained. She sipped the drink, almost immediately regretting it.

  “Listen,” Alex interrupted Logan’s sentence. “What is with this baby?” She grabbed his hand and pressed it to her belly and let him feel.

  As always, there was a wonder there and he chuckled, feeling all around her stomach.

  “She has the hiccups,” Logan told them all.

  “Again?” Beth laughed, feeling too.

  Before she knew it, they all had a hand on her stomach, feeling the baby hiccup away inside her belly. It was a strange sensation, and she couldn’t say how she knew it was the baby having the hiccups, but she just knew. Small, persistent spasms, but not coming from her, coming from the baby.

  “Every time she drinks something,” Dylan informed them, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and kissing the top of her head.

  “Jenna was a flipper,” Andy said with a smile at he
r daughter, their hands intertwining over Alex’s bump. “Feet in my ribs, feet in my bladder, feet trying to come out through my belly button.”

  “Belly button?” Alex scoffed. “What’s that?”

  “Have I told you today that you’re my favorite sister?” Beth asked, a smile on her face as she winked at Alex.

  “Hey!” Andy argued.

  “Dylan?”

  A woman, who could only be Dylan’s mother, glided up to their group as if she was floating on air. Her designer dress, a cream-colored sheath, was flawless. Her blond hair was styled into an artful waterfall behind her back. His father stood next to her, a small smile on his face as he took in their group and their closeness.

  “Mom,” Dylan said in greeting, kissing her cheek and shaking his father’s hand. “Dad. Everyone, these are my parents, Martin and Lavinia. Mom, Dad, this is Lexi. My girlfriend.”

  Alex pushed away the reminder that they might not approve of her and ignored it. She’d had a good night and refused to let them or anyone else ruin it. He’d obviously warned them about the baby, and they made no mention of it, almost pretending she wasn’t there between them as the shook hands.

  “Nice to meet you,” Alex said.

  “And this is Lexi’s family. Her sister Beth and her husband Logan. Her brother Spencer. Her twin sister Andy, her husband Owen, and their daughter Jenna.”

  “Subtle differences,” Lavinia noticed, inspecting Andy and then Alex. “You’re both very beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” Andy said with a smile. “We don’t actually think we look that much alike.”

  Lavinia looked stunned for a moment until she noticed Andy’s lips twitching.

  “Your parents must have had a heck of a time keeping you two separate.”

  “Alex was the one sticking forks in the electrical sockets. Andy was the one sitting quietly where she was told,” Spencer told them.