Page 44 of Inked Beasts

“You want kids?” he asks suddenly.

I stare at him. “What?”

He jerks his head at the departing horde. “Kids. You want ‘em?”

So much for distracting him. I say softly, “You mean with Lexy.”

“Of course with Lexy. Who else?”

“That’s really up to her,” I point out.

“Sure. But if she’s willing.”

I let myself imagine it. A tiny person, held in Lexy’s arms, sleeping or squalling or smiling. The wave of longing that hits me is so strong my knees almost buckle.

With an effort, I stay upright. “Yes,” I say, and am surprised that my voice sounds more or less normal. “If she’s willing.”

Kai just nods, as if confirming something he already knew.

And I feel like a man standing on a precipice, daring the wind not to gust and blow him over the edge.

LEXY

Reality seems to be demanding my return sooner rather than later.

I know Mrs. Sanchez didn’t mean anything bad by seating Mom and me here with the cousins. I remember, from Thanksgivings the boys told me about when we were growing up, that the family elders have the seats of honor at the main table. We’re being treated like family, which is its own kind of honor.

But I can’t escape the feeling that Mrs. Sanchez wanted me out of the way. I’ve noticed her noticing, these past few weeks, the undercurrents connecting me to her sons and to Gage. Mr. Sanchez has been more circumspect, but I have no doubt he’s noticed too.

And while I know it’s a busy day, and Mrs. Sanchez is the hostess, she was warmly polite but not much more when she greeted us and led us to our assigned places. Was it just because she was distracted, or was it a subtle sign of disapproval?

I hate that I’m feeling this way about a couple I love and respect, and I do my best to put it out of my mind and focus on the cousins around me, who are a friendly bunch on the whole. But that turns out to be its own minefield.

“I hear you’re dating Kai,” one of them says, her young face a mask of innocence.

“I heard it was Thorn,” another chimes in.

“Really?” a third cousin says. “I heard it was Gage.”

Maybe there’s a trap door under the table that I can use to escape. Avoiding eye contact with all of them, I say, “We’re just good friends.”

Laughter greets this pronouncement, and then I’m hit with questions from all sides, all of which I refuse to answer. Desperate to change the focus to something—anything—else, I remember Kai mentioning that one of the cousins does community theater, so I ask her about her latest role.

She’s more than happy to claim the limelight, and tells us at length about her roles, her costumes, her directors, her co-stars, and all the backstage drama, drawing everyone else in with her stories. I drop in strategically-timed questions whenever the conversation starts to flag, and that gets us through the meal.

Before dessert is served, Thorn walks by and says something about being called in to work. He sends me an apologetic look, but that’s all.

It’s completely unfair of me—I’m sure he didn’t invent whatever work situation requires his presence—but I’m envious of him escaping scrutiny so easily. Too bad I don’t have an emergency wedding to deal with.

The whole time, Mom keeps her word and doesn’t mention the men at all, but I can feel her watching me, observing every tiny detail of my behavior. So I try to distract her too, asking questions about her friends back in Atlanta, her favorite shops, and the neighborhood dogs’ escapades. It helps, a little.

When it’s time to leave, Kai and Gage are nowhere around, so we thank Mr. and Mrs. Sanchez and head out to my car. Part of me is relieved that I didn’t have to tell the men goodbye in front of witnesses, and part of me feels strangely forlorn.

The second we’re in the car, my mom lets out a sigh. “Go ahead,” I say, as I turn the car on and get us on the road. “Lay it on me.” I might as well get it over with.

“They’re all fine young men, Lexy. But do you really know what you’re doing?”

I don’t know what to say. On the one hand, no, I have no idea. I’m following my gut, my fantasies, and maybe my heart, but definitely not my brain.

---