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"Ladies," he greets us.
"Where's George?" Miranda asks. Early in the evening, I had seen Grayson making the rounds with George on his hip the entire time. My absolute favorite part was seeing them dance together.
"Asleep." Grayson fishes a video monitor from his pocket, placing it on the table before adding, "Where's Tom—"
"This lamb is perfectly braised. Tried it yet, Grayson?" Miranda cuts in with a volume that's hard to ignore.
Grayson flinches; there's a thud under the table where Miranda's foot must have met his leg. "Erm, no." He begins to eat, and silence settles over our table as I continue to fixate on my untouched meal. Why does my family have to be so damn complicated? Sometimes, I dream of being part of a different family—one where my mother is still here, fussing over me, dropping by with groceries, worrying about my haircut, or noting how tired I look.
Instead, I'm tied to an aunt threatening the family of the man I love. Love. The realization sparks a grin, then sends a pang of sorrow deep into my heart. I've loved Tommy for a long time and it's almost sadder that on the cusp of learning how perfect it can be, he’s pulled into my drama.
He left.
The jealousy I felt watching Sam get married and pregnant was undeniable. I longed for that kind of support, that kind of relationship in my life. Sam's sister was always there for her, and I... I wish I had that. Miranda is bossy, sure, and perhaps a bit naïve about our father, but she stood by me today, even if it ended with Tommy leaving.
A tear falls onto my plate, unbidden. I don't bother wiping it away; I want to feel this pain, let it remind me to think twice before dreaming of a real relationship again.
Under the table, Miranda's hand finds mine. I look over to see her offering a sad, understanding smile. No words are needed—her gesture is the support I've been craving. I squeeze back and finally manage to take a bite of my food.
Fifteen minutes later, I find myself dancing with Grayson. He’s stepping on my feet with all the grace of a drunk elephant—apparently it's his signature move.
“God, Grayson, you really suck at this,” I say with a small laugh.
He shrugs. “Suzanne wasn’t much of a dancer. Liked laughing more. So, I focused on my assets.”
“You miss her?” I ask. He gets a wistful look in his eyes but is wearing a smile.
“Not as much, anymore. Georgie keeps me busy.” That’s a lie, but I let it slide. He’s always been one of my favorite cousins. But since his wife went missing years ago, I haven't really been around him. The love Grayson has for George is clear and unconditional. It makes me wonder what might have been if I had been born to some other family. As my father just died, I'm hit with a sudden burst of guilt for a multitude of reasons.
“I’m sorry for not being around,” I say sadly. But Grayson smiles at me. “I’m glad you left, Tilly. But…” he sighs and pulls me into a gentle hug as we keep swaying side to side. “I'm also kind of glad you’re back.”
As if on cue to break our sentimental moment, his heel crushes onto my toe. Again. “Oops,” he says, but he has a mischievous grin. Ugh, he really is fucking cute and awesome. The guy deserves a wife that won’t run out on him, if that’s really what happened.
"So, what about all these bimbos Andy is bragging about?" I ask, a cheeky grin on my face.
He blows a raspberry. "The fan club I suppose. But ignore her, I don't sleep with hordes of women."
"Oh? No harem for you?"
He laughs, his head tilted back. "No, certainly not. I haven't really dated yet." I nod. It's understandable. I know he and Suzanne met and married young. They've been together since right after high school. Though I don't have a lot of love lost for her. If my family did run her off, like Miranda has told me in the past, she's a coward. I would never leave my kid. Never.
Grayson pulls the little baby monitor out of his pocket that I know he’s been checking it every few minutes. Helicopter dad, hovering as best he can while still trying to appease my tyrant of an aunt. She’s like a Sat-aunt. You know? Like Satan but as my aunt?
I’m smiling to myself at my own internal pun, as the light jazz music picks up. I try to coax Grayson into spinning me around, but he suddenly stops mid-twirl.
"Erm, Tilly?" Grayson's voice pulls me back, and he's looking past me. I turn to see what's caught his attention.
There's Tommy, making his way toward us, with that adorably apologetic look on his face that sends my heart into a tailspin. "Can I…?" he directs the question to Grayson, who nods at me.
"By all means, I've wanted to slip out to be with my son anyway." Grayson exits the dance floor without another word, leaving us in a bubble of our unspoken emotions.
Tommy takes my hand, drawing me close, and wraps his other arm around my waist. We begin to sway, and the beat of my heart drowns out the music around us.
"You came back," I say, staring at him like he invented pizza. He would too. And it would be way more epic than it already is. Cause that is just how Tommy does things. With his whole heart and all the passion he can offer.
He uses a hand to cradle my head to his body. "I never left. Just needed some air," he whispers, his breath warm against my ear.
I pull him tighter. "You should have left, my aunt—"
