Page 108 of Miami Ice

OMG. Georgie. Kaitlyn is being an uber bitch to Tasha and critiquing all the foods she’s ordered for brunch. And Drew has decided it is going to be a bottomless Thanksgiving and is getting shitfaced. All Daniel can talk about is getting selfies with Becks for his Connectivity Story Share. Oh, and Dad is bragging about how much all this food cost and how it was worth putting it on the Amex. You need to warn Becks of the circus tent he’s about to enter.

Shit, shit, shit. My happy feeling becomes dread in my stomach. Beckham has a normal family, not a circus tent, as Ella so aptly put it.

What on earth is Beckham going to think of this? And it’s only family event number one.

“What’s wrong, Cupcake?” he asks.

God, he’s intuitive.

I know there’s no way to sugarcoat the message, so I simply hand him my phone. “Read what you’re about to walk in to.”

Beckham’s brow creases as he takes the phone from me. I bite my lip as his eyes scan over the message. When he’s done reading, he hands the phone back to me.

“So?” he asks simply.

“So?” I cry, aghast. “That’s what’s already going on in that house and we haven’t even walked in the door yet. You must think my family is crazy.”

“Georgie. My sister offered you a paycheck to fake date me. Do you think I think anything in that text message is as weird as that?”

He has a point.

“You need to remember something,” Beckham says, reaching for my hand and lacing his fingers through mine. “I’m here for you. YOU. I know the person you are, and yes, they’re your family, but you don’t control their behavior or actions. Understood?”

I think I just fell a bit in love with Beckham right here in my dad’s driveway.

“Understood.”

“Then let’s brunch,” he says cheerfully.

Winston barks from the back seat.

“See? Even Winston agrees with me.”

We get out of the car, with Beckham attaching the leash I have for Winston to his harness and picking him up so he can set him on the ground. I take his leash, and then Beckham retrieves a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine he picked up on the way over here as gifts for my dad and Tasha.

“Cupcake, don’t worry. Nothing that goes on in there is going to change what’s going on with us.”

I nod. I’m still anxious about introducing Beckham to all this weirdness that is my family, but I’m reassured by his sweet words.

Winston leads the way, his tail swishing eagerly as we head up to the front door. I notice it’s decorated with an elaborate autumn-floral type arrangement that looks like it’s come out of a designer magazine.

I bite my lip. I know this arrangement is extremely expensive, and I have no doubt Dad and Tasha just slapped it on their credit cards, as they do with everything in their lives.

We reach the doorstep and Drew jerks open the door, a Bloody Mary in his hand. “Happy Thanksgiving!” he yells loudly. “Bottomless everything is a MOOD!”

Then he tips his glass toward me and Beckham.

Oyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

“Becks, we can’t believe we have an NHL superstar in the house,” Drew says, slapping him hard on the back. “Would you mind signing some stuff before you leave?”

OH HELLA NO.

“Beckham, this is Drew. Drew, this is Beckham,” I say quickly. “And Beckham is here for Thanksgiving brunch, not an autograph signing.”

“It’s not a problem, Georgie,” Beckham says as we enter the house.

I’m about to say it definitely is a problem when I hear my dad’s voice. “Is that you, Georgie?”

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