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Grayson raises his hand in Tommy's direction. "Til, Tia's got the guest list updates. She knows he's here. Might as well play along."
I face them again, exasperated. "We're not even a couple. Tia’s going to get the wrong idea—"
Miranda bursts into laughter. "Clearly. Considering he mistook me for you in the lobby, practically dry-humping me in front of our concierge, Carmen, and now you're lecturing him in a bathroom like an old married couple."
Despite myself, I crack a smile, picturing the mix-up and Miranda's probable reaction. I’m surprised she didn’t deck him.
"Come on, Til. He's here and dressed," Grayson says, adjusting the little boy on his hip. It must be his son. Miranda’s right, fatherhood really does suit him. He looks completely at ease carrying the small boy. The kid is a spitting image of his dad, down to even the slight spattering of freckles on his ears. Even as I watch, the boy snuggles into his dad's side and puts a thumb in his mouth. Without skipping a beat, Grayson pulls the thumb free and kisses his son on the cheek. Damn, that's adorable. I’m tempted to skip the memorial just to catch up with him and his son.
I sigh. That isn't a real option and neither is forcing Tommy to leave. "Fine. But we're keeping him away from Tia."
They agree, thank God. But I can't let everything go, I need to find something to be irritated with. Scanning him up and down, I finally settle on his unruly golden locks. "But fix your hair first for Christ’s sake."
Grayson chuckles, setting his son down. "There's sculpting gel on the counter."
Tommy takes his time tidying his hair in the long mirror. If I wasn’t so pissed off and anxious, I might be impressed by the sight. In his tux, combined with the luxurious bathroom—seriously, it has black granite countertops and a rich dark wood vanity—he really does look like a GQ model showing off the newest and most expensive hair pomade. I find myself watching him. When he turns around, I take a long look at him. He’s definitely tidier, more presentable for this uptight family function, but less him somehow, and I feel a twinge of regret. Tommy isn’t meant for tuxes and fancy dinners. He’s meant for long walks on the beach without shoes or strumming a guitar in a mismatched living room. In other words, perfect for me. The idea makes me blush and I nod, trying to hide it.
“Better,” is all I manage to say.
"Okay, ready?" Miranda presses. Everyone nods, though George doesn't seem very thrilled at leaving his show. After a few whispers from Grayson, he smiles and follows Miranda.
She’s stomping off ahead, leaving Tommy and me trailing behind as we exit Grayson’s room. Alone at last and I have no idea what I’m going to say to him.
The safest thing would be to start with why he’s here. "What the hell were you thinking, Tommy?"
"Sam pushed me to come. She's worried about you."
I can't hide my irritation. Of course, Sam would do that. She knows exactly how scared I get about my family and after the thing with my apartment, it does make sense. Still, I can’t believe they both completely ignored my wishes to handle this alone. "I've got my family under control. I told you that."
"We just wanted to make sure you were okay," he says. I don’t know how to respond to that. I’m split between wanting to hug him close and thank him or kick him in the shins. It’s safer to say nothing, and silence hangs between us until Tommy steps closer. "So, your sister, huh? Twins, right?"
I laugh. "Yes, the woman that looks exactly like me is my twin sister. I still can't believe you groped her.” I shake my head as I continue chuckling to myself. When I get more under control, I clear my throat. “Honestly, I thought you were still mad at me. After I sent that picture—"
“That picture was hot,” he says. And yep, my face is burning up now. “And mad about what? That thing at the Surf Shack?” I nod, still trying to calm down all my lady bits after his little comment about my dress. “No way. I fucking love that you got all flustered over those flirty little jail-baits.”
"Really?" I raise an eyebrow in disbelief.
Watching his ears and then his cheeks flush with a reddish hue is endearing. I want to kiss every splotch of color off him. "Yeah. You're kind of adorable when you're annoyed," he admits, his laughter softening his embarrassment.
I chuckle with him at that. "Must be why you’re so good at it."
His jaw drops in mock shock, but I can't contain my laughter. His playful retaliation is to pinch my side, causing me to squirm away with a giggle. "Careful! My hair is barely held up as it is,” I say, slapping his hand away.
"But I like when your hair is all crazy. You look like some kind of snotty teacher with it all pulled back like this." He reaches up, drawing out a strand of hair and letting it slide through his fingers before I hastily tuck it back into place. But I can feel him scanning me from head to toe, igniting further heat on my cheeks. The flirtatious energy between us is undeniable, picking up right where we left off at the surf shop, sending a shiver of excitement through me.
However, the prospect of keeping Tommy under the radar, especially from Tia's sharp eyes during dinner, looms over it all. If Tia knows how I feel about him, she’ll use it against me. But with him in a tux, I know I’ll have a hard time looking at anything other than him.
“You’re staring,” he says, with an adorable grin.
“I’m not,” I say, my eyes still glued to his broad chest.
Miranda, ever the observant one, breaks into our moment. "You are both staring, and it’s gross."
"Sorry, Andy," Tommy said, casually using the nickname I have for my sister.
"It's Miranda. Only Matilda gets to call me Andy."
He silently mouths 'Matilda' back to me, earning a playful shove as the elevator doors opened. “And only she gets to call me Matilda.” My words are accompanied by a glare, and I already know, he’s going to use my full name as often as possible to tease me now.
