Page 45 of The Romance Game

“Late night?” I ask.

“You tell me.”

I sense a blush coming on, but I just rub my cheek against Luke’s and say, “Are you wondering what your uncle is up to? Yeah, me too.”

Of course, Luke doesn’t quite understand, given he’s barely twelve months old, but reading between the lines, Brando knows that I was out late last night or he’s deflecting his own activity. But with whom? We only just got back here and Brando did not have a Ryan. At least not that I know of.

Does that mean I do? Have I always?

Before I can think more about that, we gather around the big table. Uncle Eddie says the blessing and we dig in. Conversations start but don’t end as we all get distracted and pulled in different directions in the best of ways.

I catch my dad grinning. I’m guessing the love and liveliness gathered around this table is what prompted him to make thetough decision to have us live here in high school instead of back in Alabama. Granted, he was probably also terrified of dealing with three teenage girls without a woman’s influence. Aunt Martina loved us so well—even when she had to remind us to behave. To be fair, I was the unruliest.

Uncle Eddie’s smile falters for the briefest moment as if he too thinks about her. And it’s then I realize I don’t want this to be fleeting. I want us to gather around this table as often as possible and not just one week in the summer and at Christmastime. I want Luke to have this kind of family life all the time.

“I’m staying,” I blurt.

“What?” Harper asks.

“I’m staying in Coco Key to live.”

My dad smiles knowingly. “Thought so.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Don’t mention it. I packed up the apartment. You didn’t have too much. Your car is at Harper’s, so it’s not that far. I’m retiring in three years and I think this would be a nice place to hang up my hat.”

“Dad, you need to wear a hat in the sun, how many times do I have to tell you that?” Harper asks, who is very invested in UV protection.

“Thank you for the reminder, darling.”

But before we can discuss future plans, the kids erupt into maple syrup-induced chaos. Once we have everything cleaned up, Luke goes down for a nap, and the husbands take the kids to the beach. Heather and Harper corner me.

“We need to talk,” Heather says.

“We were thinking,” Harper adds.

Dread swims in my stomach. “About what?” Do they know about Ryan? Do they not want me to live here?

“We want to run the Plundering Pelican,” Heather announces.

“Oh,” I say, actually staggering backward. “Yeah. That’s awesome.”

Heather adds, “Brando is going to handle marketing. I’m going to organize the kitchen. Harper has the front.”

She launches into plans for game nights, updated employee uniforms, and introducing karaoke and live music on the weekends.

“And me?” I ask when I get a word in.

“It’ll be all hands on deck.”

“But we can’t have too many cooks in the kitchen.”

“I don’t think I’m ready to wear the chef’s hat,” I joke.

“No, of course not.”

“I guess I can waitress.”

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