Page 58 of Borrowing My Bestie's Brothers

“For selfish reasons.” I met Jamie’s gaze for a second, making clear the double meaning. “Didn’t want my best mechanic leaving. But in answer to your question, things have changed. Plenty of people recognise that female mechanics are often cleaner, quicker, less likely to come in late after being on the piss all night, and if you’re competent, there’s no reason why you can’t make good money.”

I shook my head.

“The trades have been looked down upon for generations. Perhaps you wanted Jamie to go to university rather than trade school?” Arthur looked away guiltily. “Most parents feel the same way, pushing their kids towards white-collar work, but that means there’s not enough people to service their cars, fix their power points or install their air conditioners. A proficient tradesperson is making better and better money, simply because demand is outstripping the amount of qualified workers.”

“So you’d want Jamie to keep working if you got married?”

Majorie’s nose wrinkled like she was smelling a vile fart.

“I’d want her to be happy.” I felt like I was speaking another language, one she didn’t understand and never would. A hand slid across my seat and then wrapped around mine. I looked down to see it was Jamie’s, then met her gaze. It was softer now, some of the tension having leaked away. “Isn’t that what all parents want?”

Both Arthur and Majorie sucked in breaths to answer, but we were saved from that speech by the appearance of our food. The waiter did their best to ignore the awkward air as they placed our plates in front of us. Jamie grabbed her knife and fork, ready to tuck in when Majorie shot her a dark look.

Bloody hell, it was all making sense now. Most blokes were pretty nervous when meeting his girl’s parents for the first time, but this? It was like picking your way through a minefield of unspoken resentments and prejudices and you could never relax, less you set a bomb off.

“This looks amazing,” I said, steering things back to a safer topic. “I’m starving. What about you, babe?”

Jamie smiled then, just a small thing, but I’d take it.

“Starving,” she replied and then dug in.

Chapter 27

Jamie

I hated this, hated that I’d brought Brock into this situation. Every time I thought I’d built the stress of being around my family up in my head, I’d see them again and remember.

If social media was to be believed, people were exploring their relationship with their gender identity more than I remembered doing when I was a kid. Some agreed with what they were designated at birth, others didn’t, but me? I’d never felt like anything other than a girl. What else could I be, being smaller, weaker, quieter than my brothers? But in all that masculinity, my mother was my primary source on all that it was to be a woman, and none of it was appealing.

Keep your elbows tucked into your ribs as you eat, don’t let your legs fall open, despite the muscle tension that it took to keep your knees together. Don’t start eating before the men. God forbid that you demonstrate any sort of appetite. Oh yeah, and don’t eat anything nice, yummy, rich, fatty, or fun. Men ate for pleasure, women ate to be thin.

I stabbed a fork into my bacon, not wanting this to be a fight. I was a woman grown. What I ate and how much was my business, surely, but in my family, I was the baby and the girl. Until I had a ring on my finger, I was their responsibility. As I crunched on a mouthful of bacon, I spiked a sausage, meaning to cut into it, but the meat skidded across the plate at the sudden pressure of my knife, a chunk flying off my plate and through the air.

“Jamie…!” Mum yelped.

Brock’s hand shot out, snatching it from the air and then popping it into his mouth with a smile.

“Yum. Want some of my sausage?”

That smirk, even my parents would’ve picked up that innuendo, but he just sliced a piece off and held it out to me. I went to pull it off the end of the fork but he jerked it back, forcing me to lean in and accept the bite from the end of the fork. Conscious of everyone’s eyes on me, I did just that, only to find my mother smiling smugly.

“You’ve got a solid business and you have the means to look after Jamie,” Dad grumbled, “so what’s stopping you from making an honest woman of her?”

“Dad…!” I hissed, shooting him a murderous look, but he just frowned right back.

“Frankie’s the last of the boys to get married, so it's your turn next,” Dad said, using the same nagging tone I got whenever I talked to the two of them. “You’re not getting any younger. A man like Brock will want kids?—”

“Not unless Jamie wants them.”

I was torn between wanting to fist bump Brock and head butt the both of them. Dad spoke right over me, but faced with input from another man, he was suddenly thoughtful.

“Jamie wants children.” Mum’s tone was one part conciliatory, one part strident. “All women do.”

“Not all.” What the hell was Brock saying? I glanced over at him, only to find him staring back. Oh. He hadn’t said anything, but I had. I shrugged and looked down at my plate. “Some women can’t and some don’t want to.”

“If they’re selfish,” she snapped. “Preoccupied with their own pleasures and thinking nothing of future generations. What about your father and I? We’d love grandkids.”

“You have grandchildren,” I told her flatly. “A whole tribe of them, and while I love my niblings?—”

---