True (True Believers #1)(45)
Author: Erin McCarthy

I expected him to protest, say that he wasn’t worried,. but instead he just gave me a half-smile and pulled into the driveway.

“Is this it?” Jayden asked, sounding excited. He was wearing an extremely beat-up army jacket, a faded red Coca-Cola T-shirt, multiple braided and cloth bracelets, and a beanie. He looked like a Portland hipster, while Easton looked like he was color-blind. He was wearing an orange shirt and turquoise blue jeans. I had a feeling they had been a thrift-store purchase from the girl’s department. I kind of enjoyed seeing that the younger brothers had clearly defined themselves separate from Riley and Tyler, who looked like they would fit in at a party with a crowd of Ultimate Fighters on their day off. Lots of black and chains.

Then there was me, dressed in another one of my supershort floral dresses, with thick tights and boots, a knit beret on my head. We would make a fantastic flash mob, because no one would ever suspect the four of us were together.

I led them into the house through the garage, calling out, “I’m home,” moving through the laundry room and into the kitchen.

The house smelled like Thanksgiving should, of roasting turkey, cinnamon, and wine. Susan was at the island, vigorously chopping something. “Hey! Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving. Susan, this is Tyler, Jayden, and Easton. Guys, this is Susan, my dad’s girlfriend.”

She wiped her hands on a towel and lamented, “Oh, Lord, I’m 38, do you know how ridiculous I feel being called someone’s girlfriend?” She came around and shook each of their hands with a smile. “Nice to meet you all. We’re so glad you could join us.”

“Well, I’m 48, how do you think being called your boyfriend makes me feel?” my dad said from the family room, standing up. “And no, I did not like it when you spent a month testing out the phrase ‘manpanion’ to everyone. It made me feel like your health aide.”

“You could get married!” Susan’s mother called from the couch. “That would solve the whole damn problem.”

“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Susan said ruefully.

My dad came over and hugged me. “Hey, sweetheart.”

He then eyed Tyler with unguarded curiosity. When he shook Tyler’s hand, I noticed his nose wrinkle up. He could smell the cigarette smoke on Tyler’s clothes, and he looked none too pleased about it. Tyler was smiling, but it was forced, defensive.

“Thanks for bringing Rory home,” my dad said.

“Thanks for letting us crash your family dinner,” Tyler said. “That’s really cool of you.”

Leaving them to eyeball each other, I went over and said hi to Susan’s parents and my aunt Molly, who emerged from the dining room with another bottle of wine, glancing at me like she’d never seen me before in her life. I saw that she and Susan each already had a glass of red wine. My aunt was what I’m positive my father always feared I would morph into. She was superintelligent, with a PhD in physics, extremely quiet, interjecting random comments usually totally unrelated to the current topic. She wore sweaters that would fit a 300-pound man, and when she dyed her hair, she forgot to wipe the color off her forehead and ears after shampooing. She seemed locked in an internal Boltzmann constant equation, trying to bridge the gap between the outside macro world and the micro world of her brain.

Becoming Aunt Molly was my greatest fear as well. The truth was, my dad might have become as eccentric as his sister if he hadn’t met my mother. He had been a TA for a chem professor when she was an undergrad, and by all accounts, including my own memories, she had been very social. They had been a couple of unpaired electrons until they had met, my father had always joked. Which never made any particular sense to me since electrons were composed of multiple atoms, which made them sound like a foursome, at bare minimum. Or was he saying that together they were reactive? It would have been funnier if he had made a reference to the excited state of atoms, but maybe that was just me.

When I stepped back into the kitchen, I slipped my hand into Tyler’s and squeezed it. “Do you guys want something to drink?” Jayden and Easton were standing there looking around with big eyes. Tyler was chewing on his fingernail.

“I’m fine,” he told me. “Thanks. Susan, do you need some help?”

This made her smile. “Actually, I could use some help. I need a strong man to pull this turkey out of the oven, and from the looks of it, you fit the bill.”

He certainly did.

Though my dad looked put out about the fact.

“Sure, no problem.” Tyler went over to the kitchen sink and washed his hands, and I secretly applauded. He had probably earned five points with my OCD father for that.

While Tyler helped Susan with bird retrieval, I took Jayden and Easton into the garage and showed them the little refrigerator stocked full of soft drinks and beer. “Pick whichever one you want from the soft drinks.”

“How much are they?” Jayden asked.

I bit my lip so I wouldn’t say anything. Sometimes I got really pissed off on their behalf. They shouldn’t have to be so suspicious of people giving them something as simple as a drink. “Oh, they’re free. My dad bought them all already.”

“Cool.” Jayden picked an orange drink and Easton picked a straight-up Pepsi.

I took a Diet for myself and grabbed a beer for Tyler. When we got in the house, Jayden wandered over to the TV to watch football. Easton stayed next to me as I held the beer out to Tyler, who had already set the giant roasting pan on the stove top. “Since I was out there,” I told him.

He gave me a smile. “Thanks.” He looked more relaxed.

“Should I card you?” my dad joked.

Ugh. Way to be obvious. “Dad, he’s 22. Don’t be weird.”

For some reason, this exchange made Tyler grin. “It’s okay, babe. The man has a right to question whatever he wants in his own house.”

My father looked mollified and shot me a “See?” look.

Maybe Tyler was just glad my dad was being honest. Or maybe he had just needed a minute to adjust to the situation. “So how did you two meet?” he actually asked my father and Susan.

“They met online. Right?” I asked, realizing a second after I said it that I didn’t actually know.

“What? Why would you think that?” my dad said to me, looking surprised. “We met at the grocery store. I was the hapless nerd wandering around with a puzzled look on my face in front of the deli counter. Susan insisted I try the prosciutto.”