Page 102 of Fighting

I grin up at my brother-in-law. “Sweet, show me what you got.”

Lee pulls out his tablet and scrolls through a few designs he’s drawn up and images he’s created that integrate the choices into my current sleeve.

“Hold up. Go back.”

He does, and I take the device from him so I can study the image.

“Yo, it’s this one. Think we can pull it off today?”

It’s a simple design that I assume a seasoned artist could complete in the time we have, but I don’t want to show her the unfinished product if he needs longer.

He slides Stef’s watch back into place and eyes the time. “It’s your lucky day, my man.”

“Nanay,you got everything you needed from us?” I heave out a sigh.

Lee and I have been moving couches and tables for the last forty-five minutes.

“Looks good, tisoy. Thank you, boys. Stop stressing. We’ve had the Rabins over before. We’ve been to their house. This is nothing,” she chides me.

“Not like this, though, Mrs. M,” Lee teases.

Eyes narrowed, I growl. “I recall when a certain someone was sweating bullets as he asked the three of us for permission to propose.”

“Permission? Nah. I just wanted your blessing,” Lee replies, chin lifted smugly.

Yeah, I like having a little brother.

The doorbell chimes and Dad shuffles across the floor to welcome our guests. The bouncing sounds of greetings echo through the house.

Our buffet is made up of mostly our family recipes, though Lee has added to it. The first time he presented the list of ingredients for his grandma’s casserole—including canned cream-based soup and mayonnaise, but very little seasoning—I thought my mom was going to throw him out.

Mom and Stef have made an outrageous amount of food, as well as pulling out the leftover lechon and pancit. They’ve already pulled out a full spiral ham, ginger-garlic roast chicken, and a series of sweet bibingka. Now Dassi directs her children to add potato latkes and a braised brisket to the smorgasbord. They also add a tray of jelly donuts and chocolate coins to the smaller table where the flan and Mom’s creamy coconut fruit salad are set up.

The doorbell rings again, and a moment later, Lily and River enter with growlers of his latest micro-brew, followed by Delia, who carries bottles of wine.

Liam and Christian arrive with big smiles. Screams erupt from the women when they catch sight of the new silver bands both men are sporting. Looks like we have a wedding to look forward to next year. Before we can congratulate them, they apologize for forgetting to bring a dish. “It slipped my mind,” Liam says, turning red.

Gran appears next, arm linked with Pru’s and holding an apple cake like the one she taught us to make a few months ago.

“Did you boys really think you could get away that easily?” Prudence teases.

The moms invite them in, thrilled about the additions to the group, and plates are piled high. Once the crowd is settled around the tables and on couches set up facing the television, the moms giggle like schoolgirls together.

Both their husbands smirk, clinking whiskey glasses. They’re all still as smitten as ever all these years later. That’s when it all clicks. The room is loud and warm with the joy of what the girls call their “framily.” It may be chaotic, but the room is filled with nothing but love. This is exactly what my life has been missing.

Nanay clears her throat loudly, garnering everyone’s attention. “We figured that the perfect way to combine our family’s tradition of karaoke?—”

“Was to pick a movie we knew you would all be willing to sing along to,” Dassi finishes.

A second later, the opening notes of a childhood favorite begins.

A half hour later, we’re all focused on the animals dancing in formation around the future king of the jungle.

I whisper to Nessa to follow me, and we sneak upstairs. In my childhood bedroom, I immediately unbutton and remove my dress shirt, anxious to reveal my surprise for Nessa.

“What are you doing?” she hisses. “Everyone is here! They will absolutely figure out what is going on.” Though she chides me, her eyes rove over my pecs and abs hungrily.

It takes a minute for her to notice the plastic bandage across my arm. When she does, she approaches slowly, her fingers raised.

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