Page 40 of Pucking Sweet

I sigh, letting her go. I wore this Dolce & Gabbana floral printdress and sweater set because last time she complained I was wearing too many block colors. “It’s good to see you,” I say, forcing a smile.

She cups my face and pinches my cheek. “Oh, honey, you too.”

Behind me, Dad stands waiting. “Don’t I get a hug?” I turn, giving him a warmer hug. He melts into it like he might just be genuinely happy to see me. “Good to have you home, Princess.”

“Thanks, Daddy.”

“And look,” Mom says. “Rowan and Deidre are here. And your sister even managed to get away from all those books to come join us.”

I move around the table, giving quick hugs to my brother and his wife and my older sister, Ivy, before taking the empty seat between my parents. There’s one extra seat between Ivy and Deidre. “Is Vi coming?”

My younger sister Violet currently works on the Hill. Daddy got her the position using his many connections.

Mom laughs. “Oh, no. She simply couldn’t get away.”

A few knowing smirks are passed around between the other three. Am I missing something?

Meanwhile, Daddy’s oblivious. He refuses to wear cheaters, so he’s got the menu pressed to his face like he’s trying to decipher a magic eye image. “I hope you all came hungry.”

“Starved,” Deidre replies. “It’s so sweet of you to treat us all, Annmarie.”

“Nonsense. We’re happy to do it. This is a day for celebrating,” Mom assures her.

“What are we celebrating?” I ask as the waiter comes over with a round of mimosas for the table. He starts reading off the day’s specials, but dad stops him with a wave of his hand.Oh, here we go.Classic Hank St. James, always needs to be in control of everything—even our food order.

“We’ll have a round of the soup du jour to start,” he says. “Then the poached pear salad and the seared bass. You can bring those out together, Ed.”

I set my water down, smiling up at the waiter. “Actually, I’d like the chicken. And an order of the potatoes—”

“The bass is better,” Dad says over me. “Get the bass.”

“I don’t want fish.”

“She’ll have the bass,” he says, handing the waiter our menus. “Oh, and add in a couple orders of the crab cakes for the table. That’s not fish,” he teases.

Across from us, Ivy finishes her first mimosa and taps her glass for a refill. She’s got the right idea. I pluck my champagne flute off the table and take a long sip. I’ll likely pay for it tonight with a pounding headache.

Worth it.

Five minutes later, the first course of autumn squash soup is placed before us.

“So, Pops,” my brother says. “How’s your little communications gig going?”

I pause, spoon halfway to my lips. “Well, the ‘gig’ isn’t so little. I’m the director of public relations for a major international sports team. It’s actually a pretty demanding job.”

He smirks, buttering his bread. “Huh, I assumed it was just a lot of party planning and fundraisers. Right, Pop?”

Ass.He knows exactly what I do, and he knows I’m darn good at it too. He even asked me for season tickets when I worked for the Capitals. He’s just resentful because I did what he never could and walked away from our father.

His wife bats at his arm playfully. “Oh, don’t tease her, Ro. It sounds fascinating, Poppy.”

Next to me, Dad hums in agreement.

Wait—who is he agreeing with? Rowan or Deidre?

I pat my mouth with my napkin. “It’s a little more than party planning. In fact—”

“Oh, Poppy, honey.” Mom leans in, hand on my arm. “Did you hear about Ivy’s good news?”

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