Intercepted (Page 52)

Do we know the same Gavin? Because my Gavin doesn’t forget a single detail. I mean, he kept my necklace for years!

“Really? That seems unlike him.” I’m trying to take the high road, but this better-woman crap is hard. I really want to say he only forgets things that don’t matter.

“He still has no idea what my favorite color is and it’s been the same since I was nine.” She comes into the kitchen and sits on a stool at the island.

“What’s your favorite color?” I feel like we’re on a first date asking that question.

“Yellow.” She points to her yellow diamond wedding ring and yellow pea coat.

“That’s my favorite color too!”

Look at us. Bonding and shit.

I put the few dishes I’ve gotten messy in the dishwasher. When I finish, she has her head tilted, watching me inquisitively and my need to not be in silence kicks back in.

“Are you guys coming tonight?”

“What really happened with you and Madison?” she asks instead of answering my question and yet again, I’m wishing I would enjoy the silence for once.

“I’m not sure anything happened, to be honest.” I put the dish towel on the counter and move to the seat next to her. “I think she hates any woman Gavin shows attention to because she’s in love with him. But with me dating Chris, it gave her all the extra ammunition she needed to really hate me.”

“You have to understand. Madison has been my best friend since before I could walk. Our parents are close and we grew up together.”

“Emerson.” I take her hand into mine when I see her eyes beginning to gloss over. “I don’t want to get between you and Madison. I already feel guilty about what’s gone down between her and your brother. But I can’t give you a specific moment where I said or did anything other than falling for your brother. Which, by the way, was not something I wanted.”

Her eyes widen with surprise at my last tidbit and I don’t blame her. She’s his sister, she knows what a catch he is. I doubt there are many women on the planet who would even think twice about falling head over heels for him.

“You didn’t? Madison has been telling me you’ve been chasing him since the moment he got there.”

“Well, Madison has quite the imagination,” I say with a little too much attitude and have to take a deep breath to get it under control. “Listen, besides your brother, Chris is the only other guy I’ve ever dated. And when it ended, it was nuclear-level bad. Honestly? It’s embarrassing and not something I like to talk about, but I can tell you I had no intention of dating an athlete ever again. But no matter how hard I tried to deny my feelings for Gavin, he wouldn’t go away.” The smile I always have to fight when I’m talking about Gavin breaks free. “Your brother’s kind of like a knight in sweatpants. After so many times, I had to accept what we have.”

“Shit.” She purses her lips. “Does Gavin have wine?”

“Already on it.” I walk to the fridge and pull out an unopened bottle.

I pour two extra-large wineglasses to the rim and bring them to the island. We sit on the hard stools in silence until the creaking of the front door opening snaps us out of our heads.

“Um. What the hell did I miss?” Gavin eyes shift between me and Emerson until they settle on the almost empty wineglasses.

“Just a little girl talk,” I tell him as Emerson takes her final sip of wine.

“Yeah, bro.” She stands, scratching her stool against the hardwood floors. “Walk me to my car?”

“Um. Sure?” he answers.

Gavin’s still standing in the same spot, staring at me. “Go!” I motion after his sister.

“What did I miss?” he mumbles under his breath as he heads to the door.

Hell.

I’m asking myself the same damn thing.

Thirty-five

Gavin has hinted at it in the past, but here at his parents’ house, there’s no denying the fact. The Popes have some serious money.

Their house is the non-poser version of what Chris wanted his to be. There’s a chandelier in every single room. Even the bathrooms. There are old paintings his mom points out that have been passed down for generations. Even the silverware she set the table with is from her great-grandma.

Gavin’s been trying to play it cool since we walked into the quiet house, but he chose football over drama for a reason. It’s clear to see that Emerson not being here upsets him. I wish he hadn’t come home while we were sitting together. His hopes got too high.

“Come.” Mrs. Pope directs us into the kitchen. “I have a few appetizers and wine for us while dinner finishes.”

We follow her in and sit down at the kitchen table covered in finger foods. Her definition of a few is clearly different than mine.

“This is amazing, Beth,” I say as I formulate a game plan for how I can eat as much of the cheese as possible.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” She waves off the compliment, but by the way Gavin laughs and shakes his head, I know this isn’t nothing.

I’m busy launching a full-on attack on the prosciutto-wrapped mozzarella when we hear the front door open.

“Nonna!” the sweetest little voice I’ve ever heard calls out. Finn bursts into the kitchen, followed closely by Emerson and her husband.

I glance at them for a second before all my attention turns to Gavin, who looks like someone breathed life back into him. His eyes shine with love, and the dimple I’ve missed finally makes an appearance. It takes every bit of my strength not to jump up and fist pump like I’m on Arsenio.

“Hey, Gavin,” Emerson says before looking to me. “Good to see you, Marlee.”

“You too.” I ignore the way her smile changes from natural to forced when she talks to me. At least she’s talking to me.

“Well then.” Mrs. Pope, forever the hostess with the mostess, gets our attention. “Now that Emerson has brought me my favorite grandson, dinner is ready.”

* * *

• • •

AFTER DINNER, WE’RE all sitting around the table, some of us with the top button of our jeans undone, when something I’ve never seen before happens. The guys each give their lady a kiss, gather the plates, and go do the dishes.

Now my dad is pretty fantastic, but never once in my entire life have I seen him wash so much as a spoon. He’ll go to the store and buy plastic dinnerware before sticking something in the dishwasher.

“Oh yes, dear,” Mrs. Pope says, no doubt noticing my look of awe watching the guys standing by the sink. “If we do the cooking, they do the cleaning. I’m a wife and mother, not a servant.”

While the guys finish up in the kitchen, Mrs. Pope excuses herself for a second and comes back holding four giant photo albums.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment,” she says as she sits down next to me and spreads the albums on the table.

“Get ready, babe,” Gavin whispers in my ear when he walks into the room. “I was the cutest kid ever, and my mom is about to spend the next two hours proving it to you.”

“He doesn’t let me take pictures anymore so I have to search the internet for good ones the team posts and reminisce about the days he would just say cheese.”

“Finn’s way cuter than I ever was, Mom. Start taking more pictures of him.”

“That’s true,” Emerson speaks up. “Finn makes you look like a troll.”