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I furrow my brow. “Okay…”
“But do it before your first pro championship game.”
I stare at her.
“I’ve got a lot of money on this one, Connor,” she adds.
“Ah,” I say, recalling what Dana told me about their little bet.
“I’m counting on you.”
I smirk. “I wasn’t even going to propose until a year after our first child was born,” I joke.
“Hey,” she says, only mildly offended. “Rude.” I chuckle as she lets me out the door. “We had a lot going on back then.”
“I know, Mom. I’m sorry.” I pause in the hall with her. “I love you.”
She pushes onto the tips of her toes. It’s not far enough to reach me, so I lean down a little so she can kiss my cheek. “I love you, too, kid,” she says with a grin.
We head downstairs. It’s a full house already, with Kirbys and Morgans and Novaks scattered throughout the living room and kitchen, all of us dressed in various shades of black. There’s a strange feeling in the air. When we’re all together like this, it’s usually a happy occasion. Birthdays or milestones or opening nights. Laughter and smiles. Today, it’s muted, almost as if we’re all scared to risk disturbing the dead.
The parents hover in the kitchen, their hushed voices a low hum beneath the louder group in the living room. Alex and Ben sit on armchairs across from the couch where Courtney, Violet, and Dana sit together. Aster is nestled in Violet’s lap, already fidgeting in his little suit.
I get it, kid. I don’t like wearing this stuff, either.
Dana spots me before the others do, and she smiles. Her golden hair hangs in a braid over one shoulder, the end tied off with a yellow ribbon. Her long-sleeved black dress clings to the elegant shape of her, and my heart skips a beat.
My mother was wrong.
She doesn’t look pretty.
She’s beautiful.
As I walk toward the couch, Alex notices me. He pushes off the chair, tapping Ben on the arm as he goes. Ben stands up and they both glare as they march together into the kitchen to get away from me.
Mom rubs my arm, a silent show of support.
I will fix this, dammit.
Just need to figure out how to get them to talk to me without them bolting from the room at first glance.
Dana smiles at me. “Hey,” she says.
“Hi,” I say.
Mom nudges my ribs.
“My mom says you look very pretty today,” I say.
“Oh.” Dana blushes as she looks at her. “Thanks.”
“No,” Mom says as she slaps my arm. “You’re supposed to tell her that you think she looks—” She stops and shakes her head disappointingly. “Never mind.”
She stomps off into the kitchen and we laugh.
“You do look beautiful today,” I tell her.
“Thank you,” Dana says.
