“Did your father make you work late?” Mom asks as she gets to her feet. She pulls me away from Eden and plants a kiss on my cheek, all while eyeing me suspiciously. No one ever thought it was a good idea for me to work alongside Dad. It took me weeks to convince Eden it would be fine, but my motherstillthinks the whole thing is going to explode in my face one day.
“Can we not talk about work right now?”
“Sorry. I’m just glad you’re finally here.” Mom hiccups, then blushes with embarrassment. “I’m going to go and find Dave.”
I stare after her as she wanders off across the venue, weaving through the crowd. The last time I saw my mom drunk was at my own wedding reception. There must be something about her sons getting hitched that turns her into a champagne-guzzling maniac.
“Geez,” I say, turning back to Eden. She’s already sat back down at the table and she reaches for my wrist, pulling me down into the chair next to her. A new desperation is flashing in her eyes as she glances around.
“Drink these,” she hisses. “Now.” I feel her hand brushing mine under the table, her skin warm and soft, and she forces a glass of champagne into my hand.
I stare down at the drink for a second, perplexed, then look back up at her. Her eyes are growing wider by the second, pleading with me to drink the damn thing, but my brain must be sluggish from work because I don’t understand what’s going on. But then I spot the two other full glasses in front of her that have obviously been piling up in the time that I’ve been missing, and it suddenly clicks.Ohhhhh.
“Hurry,” she whispers, her hand on my thigh.
I steal a quick look at Rachael – she’s the only one still at our table – but she’s busy shoving a handful of nuts into her mouth, so I lean in close behind Eden’s shoulder and tip the glass of champagne down my throat in one gulp. Eden forces the second glass into my hand next, and I consume it as fast and discreetly as possible. Then the third.
“Sorry,” she apologizes when I’m done, her expression rueful.
I set the final empty glass back down on the table in front of her, licking my lips to wipe away the sweet taste of the champagne. I don’t evenlikechampagne.
“If I’m going to be drinking both mineandyour drinks today, thenpleasedon’t yell if I throw up in the kitchen later,” I joke, reaching for her hand and interlocking our fingers. Her mouth transforms into the most perfect smile and I’m so drawn in by her that I haven’t even asked the most obvious question. “Where’s Jaxson?”
“Behind you,” Eden says, nodding over my shoulder.
I crane my neck to look, and I see my mother and stepfather, Dave, navigating the room as they make their way back toward our table. My son is on Dave’s shoulders, his chubby little hands waving around with excitement when he spots me.
“Daddy here!” his precious voice squeals, and I grin so hard it feels like my face may just break.
I let go of Eden’s hand and jump up, joining my mom and Dave as they arrive at the table, and I scoop Jaxson straight off Dave’s shoulders and pull him into my arms. He’s pretty solid for a two-year-old, with chunky little legs and the most adorable toothy smile that I love to come home to every day. “You had fun with Grandpa, huh?”
Jaxson puts his sticky hands on my cheeks and nods fast. He has a head of thick jet-black hair just like me, though he has Eden’s hazel eyes. “Uh-huh. Fishies,” he says.
I shoot Dave a questioning look, my eyebrow raised, and he chuckles. “I was showing him the huge fish tank this place has. I’m sorry, but I think you may have to invest in a pet goldfish for him,” he says, scratching at his grayish hair as he pulls out a chair at the table.
Sometimes when Dave is running around our backyard shooting water guns with Jaxson, I totally forget that he once kicked my ass when I was a kid for dating his daughter. And now he adores the child that his daughter and I have together. It’s laughable – and wedolaugh about it. It has become a running joke in the family now, that time when Dave would have gladly murdered me.
I press my forehead to Jaxson’s and hold him close. “Oh, is that right, buddy? You liked the fish?”
“Yeah!” he says, scratching at my stubble. If I had it my way, he’d be saying “Si,”but Eden won’t let me pull out the Spanish lessons until he turns three. We’re already working on the whole speech thing as best we can, and Eden believes throwing two different languages at our son at once will only confuse him. But one day . . . One day Jaxson will be babbling in fluent, easy Spanish.
My thoughts are interrupted when, suddenly, I spot Eden out of the corner of my eye scrambling to her feet and racing away from the table without saying a word to anyone. She dashes across the bar, dodging all of Chase’s friends, and disappears into the restrooms.
“Is she okay?” Mom asks, brows furrowed with concern.
“Take Jaxson,” I say quickly, handing my son off to her. He loves his grandparents, though he has never met my father – and he never will. I may have a civil relationship with my dad these days, but I still keep him at arm’s length, and I’ll be damned if I let him anywhere near my kid. But Jaxson gets enough love as it is from mine and Eden’s moms, and Dave too, of course.
Mom wraps Jaxson up in her arms and watches me closely as I take off after Eden. I head for the restrooms and carefully push open the door to the women’s an inch, hovering outside.
“Eden?”
“In here,” she calls back in a breathy, raspy voice.
“Alright, coming in.” I push open the door and head inside. Luckily, there are no other women in here. Only Eden.
She’s inside a bathroom stall, sat on the floor and with her head bent over the toilet bowl. She’s torn her shoes off, a pair of heels are sitting next to her, and she looks at me through weary, damp eyes.
“They havesofigured it out,” she groans, then turns back to the toilet and promptly throws up.
