Page 76 of Just My Type of wrong guy

“A.J., you know...” Alex says over the music, sarcastic. “Nothing about him is normal.”

“Right? A.J. is always doing the unexpected...” Dani glances back over her shoulder.

“Like when he promises, ‘I won’t do that, Dani,’ or ‘I’m not crossing the continent to see her show, Dani’ — and then does exactly that.”

I feel Alexandra tense up in her hug.

“We’re here!” I announce, cutting off Daniele’s attempt to embarrass her further.

A chorus of “Wow!” rings out for a few seconds, and Alexandra and I laugh.

“Back here!” Thomas yells over the chaos. I take Alexandra ’s hand, gently pulling her away from Dani, and she gives me a grateful look.

We found Thomas, Rick, Gui, Bia, Mr. Carlos, and Guilherme’s mother—whose name always escapes me_gathered out back. Thanks to the half-wall and the covered patio, it’s warmer here despite the cold.

Before I can say anything, the smell of Brazilian barbecue — one of my favorite foods on Earth — hits me and I start salivating just as everyone gets up to greet us.

Guilherme, closest to the door, is the first to hug me. He shakes my hand, then pulls me in for a hug. Beatriz does the same with Alexandra.

“You need a bigger coat and some gloves. Look at your nose, it’s all red,” Bia says, gently brushing Alex’s cheek. “I missed you. Not just now — I’ve missed you,” she adds a bit embarrassed.

“I missed you too,” Alexandra replies, awkward but sincere.

Before things get heavy, Guilherme pulls his girl to his side, freeing Alex for the rest of the greetings. Americans and Europeans aren’t big on hugging, but ever since the reality show ended and the basement of this house has become our rehearsal base, Brazilian customs became our customs and even Richard, the most proper Brit I know, hugs me — and I can’t help hugging back, missing it more than I realized.

“You two look great together, man. Congrats,” he whispers, dead serious. I step back and swallow my smile.

“Cut it out, Richard. There’s nothing going on.”

Elvis gets up, tail wagging, and barks at Richard in my defense.

“Oh… Okay. Not yet,” he says. “But you can talk to me when it happens.”

“A.J., I’m stealing your girl for a second. She needs a warmer coat,” Daniele announces, gesturing to the other side of the table. “You sit right there, next to me.”

Then she disappears inside with Alexandra in tow — Beatriz following behind.

“Did you sleep with me?” Carlos yells the kind of mock outrage only a Brazilian dad would throw at someone who walks in and forgets to say hi – and right on cue, Sol smacks him hard on the arm.

I burst into laugh while Guilherme walks me over to the barbecue, and I realize his mother doesn’t speak English.

“Hey, man. All good?” I greet him in the Rio slang Alex taught me on the flight.

“I really don’t know what to do with you,” Carlos laughs, throwing an arm around me in that classic one-armed dad hug Guilherme warned me about.

“Babe, this is ‘A.J.’ — Dani’s best friend.”

“He’s telling mom that,” Guilherme starts, but I shut him up with a hand.

“Nice to meet you. I’m your daughter’s best friend,” I say in Portuguese, making it very clear both my Brazilian girls have been teaching me well.

“Best friend, huh?” Sol reaches out to shake my hand.

“Relax, he likes men,” Carlos says as if that’s the only reason he’s letting me near his daughter.

“Ialsolike men, Mr. Carlos,” I reply — broken, clumsy Portuguese and all — but it makes Solange relax.

“But Dani is just my friend, ma’am. Can I give you a hug?” I ask, and her smile widens.

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