We greet my parents waiting for us at the door. My mom pulls me into a warm hug, holding me close as though she’s been counting down the seconds until we see each other. “You look so radiant,” she murmurs against my hair.
I notice a wheelchair and scowl. “Seriously, Dad?”
He lifts his hands. “Not my idea!”
“Hush now,” Mom says, turning to Rasmus. “I know we’ve met before, but it was under different circumstances. It’s good to see you again.” She warmly smiles and hugs him. “Welcome to our home.”
“Thank you,” he says, handing over the cake. “This is a traditional Swedish cake for dessert.”
My dad shakes Rasmus’ hand, and they give each other long, measured looks. “Good to see you again.”
Rasmus, to his credit, doesn’t falter. “Good to see you too, Mr. Lavigne.”
“You know how I feel about the formality.”
“Well, I’m here as your first grandbaby’s dad, not your player, so I’m showing a little respect.”
As we get inside, the front door swings open behind us. My brothers step in, trying to make some grand reveal. Classic Hendrix move, no doubt.
I glance up at them from the wheelchair. Hendrix, Holden, andHunter; my personal pains in the ass. Their eyes flick from Rasmus to each other.
“Look who finally decided to show his face around here,” Hunter drawls. “We were starting to think you’d change your mind.”
“That’s right,” Hendrix adds, crossing his arms.
Holden, ever the quietest of the three, lets out a small hum, tilting his head as he observes my baby daddy like a science experiment. “Interesting.”
I groan. “Can you guys not? You’ve met him close to a million times before.”
But it’s too late. My brothers already have something planned. I can sense it.
At the dinner table, I watch my brothers exchange a look that puts me on high alert. I know that look because I invented it. It means trouble with a capital T. Judging by the glint in Hunter’s eyes as he leans in, the moment they’ve been waiting for has arrived.
I hold my breath. This is where it could all go downhill fast.
Then Hunter mutters something under his breath in Spanish. And I sit back, hiding my amusement.
Hunter says the words louder. “Can you believe this guy? Getting our sister pregnant without a fucking ring. What a disaster.”
Mom sighs and shakes her head while my brothers burst out laughing, nearly choking on their food. But the joke’s on them.
Rasmus, completely unfazed, says in his perfect Spanish, “I would have to agree. But that might make your sister mad. She hates when anyone talks negatively about the baby.”
My brothers’ laughter dies so fast you’d think someone pressed a mute button on them. Hunter’s jaw practically hits the table. Holden freezes mid-chew, eyes wide, looking at Hendrix, who is dumbfounded.
“Mierda,” Holden curses, his face turning red. “¿Hablas español?”
“My mom is Swedish Spanish, and my aunt and cousin live in Mexico where I spend most holidays,” Rasmus replies in Spanish and casually takes a sip of his drink. “And my Abuela raised me alone after my grandpa passed away.”
Hendrix groans, running a hand down his face and switches back to English. “Sis, why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because Iknewyou idiotas would pull something, and I was eager to watch it happen from the front seat.”
Holden lets out a dramatic sigh, very unlike him. “Well played.”
“I feel so betrayed.” Hunter shakes his head. “This is worse than when she let us think Santa and the Easter Bunny were sworn enemies.”
“That was actually my idea,” Mom joins the conversation. “But what did we learn today? Never say bad things about someone in the same room. They might understand every word.”
