Page 76 of Winning the Nightcap

“Of course, Bec. I’m excited to meet your family,” I say with a confidence I donotfeel. My stomach is in my ass and I’m already sweating. I haven’t met the family of someone I was seeing since high school. So yeah…you could say excited, or you could saymotherfuckingterrified. Both can be true, right?

“Please ignore everything you see and hear tonight if it in any way makes you want to run away from me screaming,” she says, resigned as she steps aside to let me into the house.

I follow Bec down the hallway and into the main living space. When we turn the corner, her family is lined up, standing side by side…and they’re all staring at me.

“Welcome to our home, Aiden. I’m Rebecca’s mother, but you can call me Denise.” The delivery is a bit rehearsed and her smile looks alittle stiff, but her eyes are warm and her words are kind.

“And I’m Bec’s father. You can call me Mr. Miller.” Okay, Bec’s dad’s greeting is…a little more formal. A little less warm.

Denise elbows Mr. Miller in his side. “Thomas, we talked about this.”

He clears his throat. “You can call me Thomas, I guess.” He mutters the last part under his breath.

“You guys promised to act natural. Exactly what part of this feels natural to you?” Bec asks with her arms crossed and her hip leaning against the kitchen table.

“Aiden Price…you have the distinct honor of joining us for…family game night,” a guy in his late twenties sings, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify the volume of his announcement. “I’ll be your host, Ashton Sweet-Cheeks Miller. Meet my cohosts Danny the Devil Darling and Toby the Shit-on-your-party, Buzz-kill Extraordinaire. Now,” he claps his hands together, “time to pick teams.”

“God fucking dammit,” I hear Bec mumble from beside me. When I look over at her for some sign as to what the fuck is going on, her stern expression breaks down into a smile. “Well, I should have expected this. Aiden, are you any good at Pictionary?”

* * *

My family may be small, but the three of us did have family game nights growing up. But nothing…not a single one of our quiet nights playing Monopoly or Scrabble prepared me to play Pictionary with the Millers.

“Blood? A sacrifice! No…water? A baptism!” Denise shouts, hopping up and down with her hands clenched in tight fists at her shoulders while she attempts to guess anything and everything that Bec could possibly be drawing. The guesses fly out of her mouth in astream of consciousness. I barely have time to process the first guess she shouts before she’s yelled out three more in the same breath.

Bec draws two more droplets and a cloud.

“Rain!” Danny screams, jumping to her feet to clasp one of her mom’s fists in her hands.

I thought I was competitive…I’ve had to be to make it this far in my career. That was until I met the women in this family.

Bec points excitedly and beams silently at Danny, signifying she guessed part of the word correctly. She continues to draw, and it takes all of two seconds before I hear Denise scream, “RAINBOW,” at the top of her lungs.

“Yes,” Bec screams, and the three women celebrate loudly.

When the group settles down, it’s my turn to draw while my team, Toby and Thomas, guess the word. I stand and walk to the easel, grabbing a card on the way. I can’t remember if I’ve ever played this game before, and I’m by no means an artist, but how hard can it really be? Guessing has been easy enough. The cards haven’t had anything too complex. This should be fine. No, thiswillbe fine. I flip the card over so only I can see it.

Eggplant.

You gotta be shitting me.

I have to draw…an eggplant.

My eyes immediately find Bec’s in a silent plea for help. But she misreads my hesitation as weakness in the game. The competitive little shit smirks at me, crosses her arms, and sits back on the couch next to her sister.

“Uh-oh, did superstar Aiden Price get a hard one?” she taunts, her eyebrow hitting her hairline.

No, babe.I’m sure as shit not hard right now, but what I’m about to draw in front of your fuckin’ family might look like it.

I let out a rough breath that stutters into a labored cough. I think mybody is shutting down with preemptive embarrassment. I’m pretty sure that’s possible. Yeah, that’s a real thing and it’s happening right fucking now.

“Aaaaaand…go,” Ash shouts, looking at the timer on his phone since he’s proclaimed himself the judge and “commissioner” of the game.

Okay, I can do this. I just have to draw…a vegetable. Not a dick. Don’t draw a dick. Draw…a vegetable.

I can see my hand shaking as I bring the marker to the paper, my back to Bec’s family. I let out one more deep breath before I start to draw.

I’m feeling a little relieved as the image takes shape. I even add the stem and leaves to distinguish it more from…you know.

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