Page 79 of Cocky Choices: Zoe Cocker

Wyatt confesses, “I told Diana.”

Nicholas coughs, “Maddie knows.”

Dad adjusts his statement. “Your wives are family, and are part of the circle.”

Mom answers the question she sees in my eyes. “They’re home being mothers tonight. In fact, none of us plan to stay long, unless you want us to.”

“Of course I want you here! I was so relieved to see you. And you got Nathan wearing a suit! And Dad, too!”

Dad slides his arm around Mom’s waist. “Any reason for your mom to get me in a suit, she jumps at.”

Chuckling, she chides him, “You were the one who said you had to come in case you needed tokick some fiancé ass.”

“I’m still not against it.”

I roll my eyes. “Caleb already got punched once. Let’s stop attacking the innocent.”

Nathan snorts, “Innocent. I dove deep on the internet and?—”

Wyatt smacks him. Nate slims his lips.

Nicolas interjects, “I was trying to say before we got off track. Caleb might be fine, but his parents are?—”

“—Shitty.” Wyatt interrupts.

“Worse than shitty,” Nathan grunts, gaze following the Astors through the crowd.

Nicholas jogs his chin at me. “Did you see how they looked at you?”

“They?” I ask, sliding a glance across my family’s watchful faces. “I did see that Mr. Astor wasn’t… happy to see me.”

Dad’s stance tenses and he growls, “His wife sneered.”

“She sneered? Oh no!” I blink to my dress. “Should I have worn straps?”

Mom instantly hugs me. “You look incredible, Zoe. I’ve never seen you more lovely.” She pulls back with anger in her eyes. “It’s not you. It’s them.”

Nicholas touches my arm, “You’re the prettiest woman in this place. Besides Mom.”

She laughs, “Nice save.”

“You’ll always be the most beautiful, Mom.”

She pats Nathan’s cheek. “Until you find a wife, honey. That’s when I’ll take second place.”

Our conversation comes to an abrupt stop as Caleb strolls up and introduces himself, and I stand by, watching as my family welcomes him with respect to our connection. Behind their eyes I perceive wariness, but if Caleb notices, he doesn’t give it away. Instead, with confident possessiveness he takes my hand, clasping it. “So nice to meet everyone. If you’ll excuse us, the pre-dinner speeches are about to start so we have to join my father’s table.”

We head away and I hurry to ask, “Are they part of the seating arrangements?”

He pauses and turns back to inform them, “Your table is next to the lead table. I made sure of it. After all, we’re going to be family.”

An odd thud reverberates.

Chaos erupts.

Gasps.

“Get a doctor!”

---