“And ruin this view?” Jo murmurs, her eyes glued to Jordan’s ass as he scrambles eggs. “No fucking way.”
“What she said.” Pam pats my hand from her seat in between Jo and me on the couch. “Midnight breakfast is a Wyles family tradition when there’s something to celebrate or somethingimportant to talk about, and part of the tradition is that the men do the cooking.”
“What about Cooper?” Hannah asks, glancing over at where Cooper is setting the dining room table.
“He doesn’t cook,” Jo, Pam, and I all say together, and then burst out laughing. “He’s honestly so bad at it, I have no idea where I went wrong,” Pam says, narrowing her eyes at her youngest son like he personally wronged her. “My other boys are amazing cooks, and so is Rob, but Cooper practically needs instructions to pour a bowl of cereal. He’s one of the smartest people I know, but give him a recipe or a cooking utensil, and it’s like his brain goes immediately offline. It’s maddening.”
“I heard that,” Cooper calls from the dining room.
“I meant for you to,” Pam calls back, leaning back on the couch and kicking her feet up on the coffee table. “Anyway, I had four boys and a husband, and no fucking way was I going to be the only one in that kitchen. Do you know how much four boys and a husband eat? I would have been chained to the damn stove and that didn’t work for me one little bit.”
“Elliot told me earlier how you taught them all to cook. I think you’re my hero,” I say, taking a sip of my drink and trying to hide the way I positively objectify Elliot with my eyes. Because hot damn, does that man ever look good with a spatula in his hand, laughing with his brothers over the stove.
“Oh, honey, I’m no hero,” Pam says, patting my shoulder. “I was just a tired mom trying to raise fully functioning, self-sufficient men I would be proud to set out into the world. I’m also not ashamed to say I wanted badass daughters-in-law, or sons-in-law if that’s the way it went, and to get those, my boys needed to be very good men. And, well, look at what I got.” She puts an arm around me and one around Jo, grinning over at Hannah. “A whole couch full of badass women sitting here while those boys make us breakfast at nine o’clock at night. Hannah,why so sad?” Pam asks, looking over at Hannah, who is twisting her hands together in her lap, her brow furrowed and her eyes dim.
Hannah shrugs and lets out a slow breath. “I’m not a badass. And as nice as it is that you included me tonight, I’m not part of your family.”
Pam makes a noise of dissatisfaction. “Please allow me to tell you all the reasons why what you said is wrong. First of all, you’re an author who quit your day job to chase your writing dreams, and you have been wildly successful. You write interesting, complex female characters and men who just absolutely worship the ground they walk on. Your stories center around female pleasure, happiness, and friendship, and in the world we live in, that is a radical act, Hannah. And I use a very broad definition of the word family. You are living in an apartment right upstairs. Your sister is my oldest son’s perfect match. And I’m not sure if you’ve figured it out yet, but I’m almost positive my third son would walk over hot coals for you. Like it or not, that means you’re stuck with us.”
Hannah stares at Pam, eyes glossing with tears she blinks away quickly. “Thanks for that,” she mumbles.
I glance across Pam at Jo, who is studying Hannah with a worried expression on her face, but Pam seems to be taking this all in stride. She reaches over Jo and takes Hannah’s hand. “Anytime, honey. And I know Cece told you this already, but that apartment belongs to you as long as you need it. The Wyles protect their own.”
Hannah shrugs again, collapsing back against the couch. “I keep trying to go home, but I can’t make myself pack my suitcase.”
“So stay, Hans,” Jo says, wrapping an arm around her sister. “I love having you here.”
“We all do.” The three of us glance up as Cece sweeps into the apartment in wide leg, floor length pants and a brightly patterned sweater that is every color of the rainbow. She takes the seat on the couch across from us, beaming when Killer bounds up to her, jumping on her lap. Then she directs her gaze to Hannah. “You stay right where you are, Hannah Evans, and don’t you dare listen to that boyfriend of yours when he whines about how he needs you back home. Boston isn’t done with you yet.”
Before any of us can figure out what that means, Elliot saunters over, looking like a goddamn snack in jeans and a soft sweater, light brown hair a mess and face flushed from standing over the stove flipping pancakes. His gaze moves over the line of us sitting on the couch and he grins. “The four of you look like you could rule the world.”
Pam smiles slyly. “That’s because we can, and don’t ever forget it. Are you all done in there yet? I’m starving, and I’m dying to hear the news you summoned us here for.”
Elliot narrows his eyes at his mom. “Anyone ever tell you that you need to be more patient?”
Pam narrows her eyes right back. “In fact, many people have told me that, and to them I say, fuck off. I want what I want when I want it. I do believe I’ve earned it.”
Elliot snorts out a laugh. “You sure have. We’re ready.” He holds out his hand to me. “Come on, Mystery Girl. I saved you the very best seat.”
I put my hand in his, letting him pull me up from the couch, smiling at the way he tugs me into his body, wrapping an arm around my waist and dropping a kiss on my lips. “Is that seat by any chance next to yours?”
“Always, baby.”
Five minutes later, all ten of us are crowded around Elliot’s dining room table. We shouldn’t all fit, but somehow wedo, everyone scooting chairs closer together, knees bumping, placemats overlapping, and elbows colliding as we pass platters of pancakes, waffles, eggs, and hash browns around the table.
Elliot sets a mug filled with Diet Pepsi in front of me and presses a kiss to my head before he sits down. Just like earlier, everything about this is home and family and a soul deep type of belonging I didn’t realize I had been missing in my life until this family opened its arms and welcomed me right in.
“So, the spirits told me that the two of you have something important to tell us,” Cece says, glancing between Elliot and me.
“The group chat told you,” Noah snarks, earning him a slap on the back of the head from Cece.
“Ow! Fuck, Cece. Did the spirits move you to do that, too?”
Cece smiles wickedly at him. “Nope, you earned that all on your own, you little shit.”
Everyone laughs at the disgruntled look on Noah’s face and Jordan turns to us. “Not that I ever complain about midnight breakfast, because it’s fucking awesome, but what’s with all the secrecy? And why are we having it here instead of at Mom and Dad’s? Midnight breakfast is always at Mom and Dad’s.”
Pam shakes her head. “Midnight breakfast is anywhere we need it to be, and apparently, Elliot and Amelia needed it to be here tonight.”
