Page 63 of Ripped

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” I reach for his hand and he lets me take it. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear. It’s very sweet. You’re adorable. Thank you.”

Connor pouts and I want to tug him into my lap for a cuddle. He’s usually so sunshine that when he gets grumpy, I can’t help but tease. We drive the rest of the way like that, his hand in mine, and when I turn into the parking lot of the restaurant, I don’t want to let go.

I shut off the engine and bring his hand to my lips. “Ready?”

Connor gazes at me through his lashes and my breath catches in my chest. He’s so precious, my Connor. I want to give him everything. He leans toward me and I meet him across the middle console. He’s been using my body wash and it smells good on him. He groans into my mouth and I scrape my fingers over his scalp, right behind his ear.

A knock reverberates from the passenger-side window and we both jump. Brad’s bent over at the waist, peering in.

“Whenever you’re ready to join us,” he deadpans. He really is a jerk. No wonder Connor doesn’t like him.

“I suppose we should go in.”

Brad’s made such a big deal about being late, but it only took us fifteen minutes to get to the restaurant, and it turns out that he booked the private dining room at the back. He’s sitting at one end of the long table with Hazel and the kids. Kathleen and Harold are on one side of the table and Connor and I take the other.

Connor reaches under the table and I take his hand in mine. His shoulders drop an inch as we intertwine our fingers and my heart clenches a little more for him.

“So, Donnie.” Kathleen looks back and forth between us. “How did the two of you meet?”

Connor has a vise grip on my hand and it might leave bruises. But he’s got nothing to worry about because I’ve got it handled. “I’m a spin instructor at the gym where Connor’s a member.”

“You go to the gym?” Brad scoffs. “Since when?”

Oh, Brad had better watch himself or Connor’s not the only one who’s going to get goaded into a fight.

“I go to the gym,” Connor shoots back.

“Boys,” Kathleen says quietly but deadly, and they both snap their mouths shut. She smiles at me like she didn’t just threaten the well-being of her only two children. This woman is fierce. “I’ve never done spin before. What’s it like? It’s the one with the bikes, right?”

I can answer this question in my sleep and I give her my most charming smile. I might lean into my accent too, but who’s keeping track? “It is. The classes are fairly high-intensity. They’re designed to be both cardio and strength training.”

“I love spin!” Hazel chimes in from the other side of the table. “I mean, when I can get to a class. These two are my own private spin classes these days.” I like Hazel. What is she doing with a guy like Brad?

One of the girls—Brooke, I think—tugs on her mother’s sleeve. “Mommy, I can spin, too! Lemme show you.” She tries to slide off her chair but Hazel very deftly keeps her in place.

“We know you can spin, honey. But not now. You can show Grandma and Grandpa some other time.”

We’re interrupted by waiters who bring dish after dish of Greek mezes until the entire table is overflowing. Brad’s popping off descriptions of each plate as they come, like he’s the one who made them. I have to hand it to him though, it’s an impressive spread. Pastries and cheese and grilled meats and veggies. There’s enough to feed all of us for a week. There’s even a giant plate of fries for the girls.

“Donnie, am I correct in assuming that you’re not from America?” Kathleen asks.

What gave it away? “You’re correct. I’m from London, but I’ve lived in New York for more than twenty years.” No need to go into why I came, obviously.

“New York’s expensive,” Harold says to no one in particular. “Real estate prices are unreasonable. It’s impossible for normal people to buy a house.”

He’s not wrong, though he sounds rather bitter about it. Maybe he wanted to get into the market but got priced out? He wouldn’t be the first.

“Donnie owns his own place,” Connor jumps in with pride in his voice.

I grit my teeth. That’s not something I usually share right away. It tends to throw people off—how can a spin instructor afford an entire house in New York—and then I have to explain about inheriting the place and Roger’s life insurance and all our savings. That’s way more information than anyone needs to have. I can see it’s having that effect around the table now.

“It’s a brownstone. Three floors, plus a finished basement and a backyard.” Connor sounds so pleased with himself and well, I can’t hold it against him when he’s beaming like that.

Harold doesn’t look like he believes Connor though, and Kathleen’s got a furrow between her brows. “That’s… very impressive, Donnie. All that for yourself?”

Oh, no. Connor might have bragged us right into a corner. I glance over to see how he wants to play this. He looks guilty enough that there’s no point in denying it. “Well, no, not anymore.”

“I moved in.” He fumbles for my hand under the table again and I give it to him.

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