by Lisa Suzanne
“Like he’ll show me his gun collection protective? Or more like he’ll just glare at me all night and ask a few questions?”
“Both for sure.” She laughs. “Expect to be grilled and get ready to check out his extensive line of weaponry.”
Well, at least we’re doing this together.
“Be sure to wear one of those cheesy ugly Christmas sweaters when you come, okay?” I say. “It’s a Fox family tradition.”
“Okay, but just be aware it’ll set me back another half hour while I go buy one since I don’t actually own one.”
“Hurry. I need your lips on mine.”
She giggles and hangs up.
* * *
I think back to the first time my mom met Reese. I wasn’t actually there when it happened, but Reese was technically my girlfriend at the time. I was on a business trip in Germany when my grandfather had a heart attack. Mark got her to Chicago, and I met her there when I cut my trip short to be with my family in my grandfather’s last days.
My mom was suspicious about why she showed up with my brother instead of waiting for me, and it turns out she had every reason to be suspicious. She was hard on Reese, and it took a heart-to-heart with my brother before she started to warm up to her. They get along now, but it wasn’t always that way.
And just like Viv said about her father, my mom is protective of me. Even though I’m in my thirties, as she often tells me, I’ll always be her baby. I just hope she can let me go enough so I can be happy with Vivian. After everything we’ve been through over the course of the nearly eight months we’ve known each other, I’m not sure how I’ll handle it if my family doesn’t approve.
Mark already does, and Reese too. Lizzie and her will get along, but Lizzie gets along with everyone. And my dad won’t care either way as long as I’m happy.
But my mother...she’s a different story entirely.
When the doorbell rings, my heart races as nervous prickles pinch my spine. When I open the door, though, all the anxiety disappears and my heart races for a completely different reason. Her hair flutters in soft curls around her shoulders, and she looks like an absolute angel sent here to save me.
She’s wearing a hideous black sweater with reindeer all over it. She grins and presses the side of the shirt, and it illuminates with blinking lights. I can’t help my laugh.
“Nice sweater,” I say softly. I pull her into my arms and kiss her good and hard as I slam the door shut behind her.
She squirms for a second, gives in for a few beats when my tongue finds hers, then pushes me away. “Oh my God! What if your parents were behind you watching that?”
“Then they’d see just how much I love you for themselves.”
She laughs and smacks my arm. “Did you smudge my lipstick?” she asks, running her finger along the corners of her pouty lips.
“It’s perfect. Like you.”
“Your cheese would pair nicely with this.” She holds up the bottle of wine.
“That wasn’t a cheesy line!” I protest. “You really are perfect.”
She giggles and swipes a hand along her sweater nervously as she hands me the bottle of wine. “Thanks.”
“They’ll love you.”
“Okay.” She draws in a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”
I start to walk toward the kitchen, and she freezes. “Wait,” she says.
I turn around. “What?”
She narrows her eyes at me then points to my shirt. “You’re not wearing an ugly Christmas sweater.”
I glance down at my plain, black t-shirt and twist my lips at her. “Nope, I’m not.”
“Then why am I?” she asks, her eyes wide.
I grin. “Because I pranked you.”
She looks at me in horror, and I laugh. “Why? Why would you do that? Why today?”
“You wanted to smile more.”
I grab her hand before she can protest and pull her along with me to the kitchen, the lights on her shirt still blinking.
Everyone is gathered in the kitchen. My mom holds Ashton, who is babbling happily in her grandmother’s arms, a glass of wine in her free hand. Mark’s arm is laced around his wife’s waist as they engage in conversation with my mom. Lizzie sits on a barstool at the counter in front of the chips and dip and she says something to Mark around a chip in her mouth. Dave and my dad are standing by the refrigerator deciding which craft beer to try next.
“This is Vivian,” I announce. The room quiets as all eyes turn toward us, and a little nervous energy zips through my chest again. It’s a beat of silence, and then another, as if we’re all frozen to our spots in one of those time outs the main character on that early nineties sitcom used to do.
I think it’s because everyone is waiting to see what my mother is going to say to her. I can’t be sure, but we’re all waiting on her reaction before the rest of us can react.
My eyes shift to my mom.
“Vivian!” my mom calls. She hands the baby back to Reese and sets her glass down on the counter before she makes her way over to us. She takes both Viv’s hands in hers. My heart thumps so loudly in my chest I’m sure everyone can hear it. This is it. Make it or break it. Approval or not, and how I’ll deal with it if it’s a no. I have no idea what’s going to come out of my mother’s mouth and whether it’s going to be embarrassing or nasty or something else. Oh, God. What if she asks about the divorce? What if she mentions babies?
She doesn’t.
Her words aren’t embarrassing or nasty. Instead, they’re perfect.
“I love your sweater,” she says with a laugh. “What a beautiful girl. So lovely to meet the woman who my son can’t stop smiling about.”
The nerves melt away and a grin spreads across my face. The room seems to explode into action. Lizzie pops up from her chair with a smile and comes in for a hug. My dad and Dave come over to say hello, too, and Mark waves from his spot next to Reese. Vivian absolutely glows as she smiles with the people I’m closest to in the whole world, the people who have been there for me through everything—the victories and the downfalls, the friendships and the failures, the loves and the losses, despite the awful things I did in the past.
“She brought this for you,” I say proudly as I hand the bottle to my mom.
She inspects the bottle. “Oh, I absolutely love this one. Let’s open it next!”
Viv’s eyes meet mine, and I wink at her as I smile. Conversations resume as the two of us easily fit into the puzzle of the Fox family, like there was already a spot waiting for her all this time but I just hadn’t found her yet.
chapter twenty-three
As she pulls her cherry red Audi into the driveway of a gorgeous home in Westlake Village just a half hour from Mark’s place in Malibu, nerves rattle around in my chest.
My parents loved her. Loved her. I remember when my mom met Kendra, she was less than hospitable toward her, but she obviously sees something in Vivian that tells her I’m going to be okay.
Maybe it’s the little looks we share, or just the number of times we caught one another smiling for no apparent reason, or the way we seem to always be on the same wavelength. I just hope her parents see it in me, too.
My nerves multiply at her words as she cuts the engine just before we get out of the car.
“I need to tell you something.” She stares straight ahead at her parents’ brown garage door. I study her profile, and she looks terrified.
“What?” I ask softly.
“Trent, my ex?” She says it like a question, and I nod for her to continue. She pulls in a deep breath. “My parents love him. My dad in particular. My dad is a surgeon in Thousand Oaks. That’s where Trent works, too. My dad actually set me up with him about ten years ago.”
My eyes widen. “Holy shit, Viv. And you just decided to withhold this information until right now?”
“I couldn’t find a good time to bring it up.” Her voice is small and she sounds nervous.
I can’t help as that same nervousness dar
ts through my chest. “So why now, as we’re sitting outside your parents’ house and I’m getting ready to meet them for the first time?”
She clears her throat. “See that black Range Rover over there?” she asks, gesturing with her head in the direction of the car.
I nod.
“It’s Trent’s.”
My chest tightens and I heave out a frustrated breath. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
She shakes her head. “His parents are here, too. That silver Jaguar is theirs. His dad and my dad own their practice together.”
“I’m a rabbit walking into a lion’s den.” It’s the only thing I can think of to say.
“Well, I have good news and bad news, then. Which do you want first?”
“There’s more bad?” I ask, my eyes nearly popping out of my head.
She giggles, and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s nervous or if something else is at play. “The good news is that’s not really Trent’s car.”
I look at her in horror. “Why the fuck would you do that to me?”
“Prank! Maybe we’re finally even from when you ditched me at that AceStar Gala.” She giggles. “Man, you should see your face.”
My jaw drops. “You just pranked me with something this serious?”
“I owed you for the sweater yesterday.”
I shake my head. “That was funny. This? This was just mean!”
“I thought it would soften the blow of the actual truth. My dad and Trent’s dad really do own a practice together, and my dad really did set me up with him. The Rover is my sister’s and the Jag is my dad’s.”
“So Trent and his parents aren’t here?” I ask. I hold my chest with an open palm.
She shakes her head.
“Okay. I can deal with the other shit. I’ll just make them see how much happier you are with me.”
“For the record, I am. In the last three days, you’ve made me happier than Trent even attempted to in ten years.”
My heart is still racing, but it’s starting to slow down back to a normal rate. “I swear to God, if you ever do that to me again...”
“What? What’ll you do?” she challenges.
“Oh, you’ll pay.” I give her my worst glare, and she just laughs at me.
“See? This.” She motions between the two of us. “Laughter. Smiles. Fun. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I mutter, because even though she just gave me a heart attack and it was all a damn joke, I can’t help the surge of love I feel for her. But I’ll still make her pay, that’s for damn sure.
We walk up to the intimidating front door, and I remind myself who the hell I am. I’m Brian Fucking Fox. I’m the brother of a rock star. I’m used to being around money even if it doesn’t belong to me, and I won’t be daunted by a goddamn door.
When it opens, a woman who looks surprisingly like an older version of Vivian smiles at us. She’s wearing a dark red dress, modest and demure but fitting for the season. Her dark hair is pulled back into a simple bun and her eyes are the exact shade of her daughter’s. Small webs of wrinkles grow deeper when she smiles warmly at the two of us.
She hugs her daughter and then turns to me. “You must be Brian.”
I nod and hand her the small Christmassy bouquet I picked up this morning. I realize I don’t know what to call her. Vivian hasn’t told me her parents’ names, and I don’t even know if Davenport is her married name or her maiden name. It makes me realize that even though I know the most essential information, most importantly how I feel about her, I don’t really know everything about her. “Lovely to meet you, ma’am.”
“Ma’am,” she says with a chuckle. “Call me Sonia. And thank you for the lovely flowers.” She leans in to hug me. “Mm.” She looks over at her daughter with a twinkle in her eye. “He smells good.”
Viv laughs. “See? I told you my mom would be easy.”
Sonia pats her daughter’s arm. “Dad will be a harder sell, but when he sees the way you’re smiling like you haven’t done in years...well, I’ll help him see it.”
I feel like I’m missing part of the conversation, like Vivian and her mom have already had a lot of serious chats about the two of us, and I suddenly feel like everything’s going to be okay.
“Where is he?” Vivian asks.
“Living room with the grandbabies. Val and Greg are baking cookies in the kitchen.”
She turns toward me. “Ready to meet my dad and my nephews?”
I press my lips together and nod. I’m ready as I’ll ever be.
We walk through the expansive foyer and right into a living room. It’s fancy and has obviously been child-proofed, and it currently looks like a toy store vomited all over the entire room. A huge Christmas tree decorated with twinkling lights sits in one corner, and what must be hundreds of wrapped presents sits beneath it. Three little boys run around their grandfather, who sits in the middle of the room laughing, each of them holding toy cars as they chase each other. It’s a warm and inviting scene, but I still feel like I’m walking into the lion’s den.
“Ray, Vivian is here,” Sonia announces. Viv’s dad turns to look at us, and his smile fades a little as his dark eyes edge over to me. His gray hair and closely clipped graying beard make him seem friendly, but the hardness in his eyes when they meet mine makes him seem a little hostile.
The boys don’t stop running around their grandfather, and he doesn’t do anything to stop them, either.
I shuffle awkwardly from one foot to the other while I await the full reaction.
“Boys, can you give me a minute?” he says. The oldest one who can’t be more than six leads the two younger ones over to a couch, where they all proceed to drive their little toy cars along the creamy fabric.
Creamy fabric and three little boys can’t possibly mix well together.
I’m not sure why that’s the thought in mind as Vivian’s dad stands and saunters over to us. He ignores me as he pulls his daughter into a tight hug.
“Dad, this is Brian. Brian, this is my dad, Ray.”
He finally turns to me. I stick my hand out to shake his, but he just studies me indifferently.
“You can call me Dr. Davenport,” he says, and I force myself to stand tall instead of cowering instinctually like a naughty boy in front of someone who has authority over me.
I’m not sure what’ll happen if this guy doesn’t approve of me.
I leave my hand out as I say, “Nice to meet you, Dr. Davenport.”
He still doesn’t shake my hand.
“Dad, stop it,” Vivian says. She touches his arm, and it’s only then that he finally shakes my hand.
“You have a wonderful daughter,” I say. “She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met.”
He softens just the most infinitesimal amount he possibly can as he lets go of my hand. “She’s sharp as a tack.”
I nod. “Agreed.”
“What is it you do, Brian?”
“I’m a businessman. I’m currently working for a record label in web analytics.”
“Didn’t the two of you meet when she was hired to fix your company?” he asks.
I want the ground to open up and take me in. There’s no way to handle his questions without looking like a royal douchebag who can’t handle his own company. I continue to stand tall, though, even as my mind races and I silently beg Vivian to step in to help me. “Yes, sir. And she did a wonderful job with it.”
“Why aren’t you working there anymore?” he asks.
“Oh my God, Dad. Stop giving him a hard time,” Vivian finally says. She looks at me. “He already knows everything.”
“And what I got from the story my daughter told me is that you’re a liar, a manipulator, and a homewrecker.”
Vivian sighs. “We’ve been through this. My marriage was over long before I met Brian.”
“But you might’ve stayed married if you hadn’t met him.” Her dad jerks his thumb at me.
“Yes, Father,” she says, and I s
hift nervously as she admits she might’ve stayed married to Trent if she’d never met me, which sounds like everything her dad ever wanted. She can’t be serious, can she? “I might have stayed in an unhappy marriage because I didn’t know how it felt to have real love, mutual respect, and butterflies in your stomach every time the other person walked into the room,” she continues. “I might’ve stayed with someone I didn’t even like anymore because I didn’t know things could be different. I might’ve stayed married to someone simply because my dad willed it to be so, not because I wanted to be there and certainly not because I was happy there.”
She laces her arm around my waist and I instinctively wrap my arm around her shoulders. I’m holding her in close to me, protecting her from her own father’s reaction to her words.
“Brian does all that for me, Dad. You don’t have to be happy about it, but I’d appreciate it if you could treat him a little nicer, because whether you like it or not, he’s my future.”
I press a kiss to her temple, and Sonia swoons a little as her dad finally softens. He purses his lips then says, “Fine.”
“Dr. Davenport, I’d love a moment of your time to talk with you privately,” I say.
I feel Vivian’s arm tighten on my waist as she digs a finger into my ribs as if to tell me that’s a bad idea.
Her dad narrows his eyes at me. “Follow me to my office.”
I haven’t had the full tour of the house yet, haven’t even met her sister yet, and I’m leaving Vivian behind me as I follow her dad into his office as my heart pounds. Degrees from universities, family photos, and pictures of various images of the human skeleton and other images of bodies decorate the walls, and I feel like I’m in a doctor’s office. I am, I suppose.
“Have a seat,” he says, and I slide into the chair facing his desk while he walks behind it to sit in the executive chair. It’s a total power move, one I’ve used myself on many occasions—even on his own daughter, if I’m being honest—but I have something I need to say to him.
“What’s this about?”
“I love your daughter. We haven’t been together long, but I’ve known her for many months now, and I’ve loved her every day I’ve known her, even if I didn’t recognize it for what it was at first.”