Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
So Ansel met her grin with a tentative one of his own.
She turned to Fitch. “Honey, your dad got a call from John Hurley this afternoon. He’s not happy.”
Fitch sighed. “Thanks for the warning.”
“Maybe you can explain to him what happened.”
Ansel didn’t know what they were talking about but from the look on Fitch’s face it wasn’t good.
“It’s nothing. There was just an incident at the deli on Friday.”
Marge hugged her son and then led them into the house. “I made my special pot roast with fingerling potatoes and an heirloom tomato salad. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Sounds delicious.”
“Fitch, Meg and Tara are in the living room arguing with your father about sports. Go distract them and prevent bloodshed while I finish up in the kitchen. We’ll eat in just a few.”
“Would you like some help, Mrs. Donovan?”
Fitch’s mom squeezed his arm. “It’s Marge, dear. And thank you, but no. You go in and introduce yourself. Meg has been so excited to see you again.”
They followed the sound of raised voices down a narrow hall.
“Did you tell them about me?” he asked in a whisper.
Fitch scrunched his brow. “What do you mean?”
“She didn’t even question the heels or the lipstick. Did you prepare them?”
“I never got the chance, but Meg might have.”
“What happened on Friday?”
Fitch cringed and rubbed his knuckles on his scruffy jaw like he did when he was nervous. “I, kind of, came out, I guess.”
He couldn’t have heard that right. “What do you mean?”
“This girl and her sister saw us at Bella Vita’s. I told her you were my boyfriend. Everyone heard me say it so I’m sure the whole town knows by now. Her father is one of our biggest clients. He’s the one who called my dad.”
Holy shit.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me this before dinner?” He kept his voice low because they were standing in the hall and he didn’t want anyone to overhear, but his fears were rising up to choke him again and it made his words shake. “Christ, you know they are going to blame me, don’t you?”
“Hey—” Fitch pulled him into a hug “—nothing is your fault. It was my choice and I’ll take responsibility for whatever comes from my actions. I couldn’t stand hiding it anymore. I didn’t want to keep pretending.”
“But, Fitch...”
Fitch pulled back just enough to meet Ansel’s gaze. “I can face anything if you’re by my side, Angel.”
Without another word, Fitch led him into the living room to meet the rest of the family.
Because Fitch needed him.
He recognized Meg immediately; her laughing eyes were so familiar because they were just like Fitch’s. She and Tara sat on one of the couches touching in a way that clearly said they were lovers. Fitch’s father sat in a reclining chair with his ankle over his knee.
“Pop, this is Ansel. Ansel, meet Franco Donovan, the most stubborn old man in New Jersey.”
Franco rose, his shrewd eyes scanning Ansel from pointy toes to extended lashes. “So you’re the man that has my son tied up in knots, willing to abandon his own family.”
“I’d never abandon you, Pop.”
But Franco held up a hand. “I will speak to you later.” His focus returned to Ansel, waiting for a reply.
“I guess I am, sir. And you must be the one who raised him to be such an open-minded, tolerant person. Thank you for that.”
He heard Meg’s muffled laugh behind them, but didn’t dare turn around to acknowledge her.
Franco took Ansel’s hand in an overly aggressive grip. His still-sharp eyes were glued to Ansel’s face, no doubt waiting for any sign of weakness. No matter how much that handshake stung, Ansel wouldn’t flinch.
“And this is Meg,” Fitch said, with a warning growl, interrupting the exchange and forcefully pulling Ansel away. “I’m sure you remember her loud mouth.” Meg kicked Fitch’s calf and waved without getting up. “And Tara, her girlfriend.”
“Nice to see you both again,” Ansel said.
“Oh my God, I love your shoes. Are those real Louboutins?” Tara’s eyes went big as she took in his prized possession.
“They’d better be for the price I paid.” Ansel lifted a foot to show off the red bottoms. “Even getting them secondhand broke my bank account.”
“Damn, I bet. But totally worth it. They look great on you.”
“Everything looks great on him,” Fitch said with an encouraging shoulder squeeze before pulling Ansel down to the sofa opposite the girls.
At Fitch’s remark, Meg smiled. “My brother, the romantic.”
The weight of Fitch’s muscular arm settled over Ansel’s shoulder like a comforting blanket.
“Don’t tease him, you’re exactly the same,” Tara quipped.
“They get it from their father. He’s always showered me with affection, gifts, and flowers for no reason,” Marge said, as she entered the room and kissed Franco on the cheek before announcing, “Dinner’s ready.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
“So, how do you feel about children, Ansel?”