Chapter 13

When I entered my mom's Vermont home, I wasn't surprised to see it bursting at the seams. She'd never been particularly social when I was growing up, but that was more due to her location on an isolated ranch than anything else. Once she'd moved east and married Birch, it had been like watching a flower bloom in the sun.

She thrived on being around people, and she loved every minute of being a stepmother to Birch's now-grown kids.

"Oscar!" My stepsister Marigold came at me from the side, tackling me around the waist like a pro athlete and nearly knocking me into an overfull coat rack. "Crap, how long's it been since you showed your face around here? Eons. Absolute forever. You smell good. What is that? Something fancy, I can tell. You'll have to give me the name so I can get some for Cyan."

I hugged her back. "You still seeing that car thief? I'd hoped you'd seen the light by now."

"Pfft. Artists, you know? He likes to go on little adventures for inspiration. It's part of the process."

"It's part of a life of crime," I shot back. I could feel my lips turn up with the tease. Marigold was a character, and she radiated energetic joy.

"Mom's in the kitchen. Come on." She grabbed my arm and started hauling me deeper into the house.

Even though my mom and Birch had been together for over fifteen years, I still hadn't gotten used to someone other than me calling my mother "Mom." It was weird. Rationally, I appreciated the idea that they loved her enough to honor her that way. My heart went out to them for losing their own mother so young. And I knew it made my mom very happy. But it made me feel strange. Like I no longer held the closest relationship with the one family member I had.

"There he is!" Birch's voice carried across the family room as he stood up and set one of the grandkids down. "How was the drive? Run into any weather?"

He reached me in time for me to shoot my hand out for a shake. I'd learned a long time ago that this would preempt his tendency to bear hug.

Birch stared at my hand for a beat before shaking it warmly and patting me on the shoulder with his other hand. "Good to see you, son. We're really glad you could make it. Hyacinth will be thrilled you're here for her shower."

Marigold reached for me again to continue yanking me to the kitchen. "You didn't bring a date? Good, because I invited that guy I was telling you about from the T-shirt shop in town. Super cute and funny. Plus, he has two dogs, so he's obviously an animal lover."

One of Rose's girls ran up to me and opened my coat pocket, searching for Frank. "Where's baby Oscar?" she asked.

Marigold leaned down. "His name is Frank now, remember? It got too confusing when everyone was calling them both Oscar."

I squatted down and pulled Frank from my inner pocket. He eyed me warily but kept himself soft and approachable like the sweetheart he was. "Careful," I warned gently. "Remember the rules about petting other people's animals."

Marigold beamed down at her niece. "Rosette's good with him. Aren't you, sweetie?"

"May I please pet him?" After I nodded, a small finger reached out to pet Frank's spines. The look of awe on Rosette's face never failed to pulverize something inside of me. "He's so cute I can't stand it," she gasped. "Thank you for bringing him, Uncle Oscar."

I grunted and nodded, uncomfortable with the title. Once she'd had her fill, I returned Frank to my pocket and continued into the kitchen, kissing my mom on the cheek and inhaling her familiar scent.

"Baby," she said, looking at me with love-bright eyes. "You made it. Let me have a look at you."

I shrugged off my coat and shoved it at Marigold to get her back for accosting me at the front door. "Make yourself useful, woman."

She grinned and carried it off, but not before calling out, "Heath's bringing someone for you to meet too. Some guy from work. But I call dibs with my guy."

My stepbrother Sage wandered in and grabbed a cookie from a stack on a platter on the butcher-block island. "I owe you ten bucks," he muttered before biting into the cookie and causing a shower of crumbs.

"Why?" I asked.

"At the beach this summer, I said the fam wasn't that bad at playing matchmaker. I was wrong. But they're not all that bad. Lily set me up with someone in her yoga class, and things are looking good." He shrugged and took another bite of cookie. "Maybe you should let them give it a try."

"Sure, Sage. I'll get right on that. As soon as you agree to give up rooting for the Buffalo Bills."

He snorted before raising his voice so everyone in the kitchen could hear. "No setups for Oscar. Got it? Good."

My stepsister Jasmine rolled her eyes. Her dark hair was longer than I remembered and lay in lazy waves over a hand-knit sweater. "Hey, that reminds me. I met someone you used to date. Dominic Caliari. He's showing his ceramics at the same gallery as a friend of mine."

I thought back to the passionate man who'd taught me how to appreciate modern art in the city's museums. "Nice guy. How is he?"

"He seems good. Doing well with his art, and now he and his husband have created a few pieces together too."

"He's… married. Of course he is. Great."

Jasmine nodded. "It's fairly recent, I think. They met through the gallery, which is how my friend met her husband too. Isn't that funny? Sounds like a magical place. Maybe you should check it out." She shot me a wink. "You know, if everyone's setups don't work."

I rolled my eyes. "Everyone needs to take ten giant steps back and worry about their own love lives instead of mine."

Mom squeezed my upper arms and met my eyes. They carried more emotion than I wanted to see right now, or ever, for that matter. "We just want to see you happy and settled. Hyacinth is already planning on inviting a handful of single guys you might like to the wedding. Just meet them, okay? Give them a chance."

I gritted my teeth and began to understand why Hugh had been so desperate to take a date to his sister's wedding. This family pressure was excruciating. I would do just about anything to get everyone off my back and back to their own business.

"How's the new baby?" I asked, realizing there was one topic that would at least distract my mother for a time.

"Oh my gosh! They're in the den. Lily wanted somewhere a little quieter to nurse her. Come see!" She led me through the kitchen and down a corridor to the smaller den my mom and Birch used on cozy winter nights.

Inside was my stepsister Lily and her wife, Mallory. Lily's face lit up when she saw me. "Oscar! I'm so happy you're here." Lily couldn't get up because she was currently breastfeeding a baby, or at least I assumed that's what was going on under the pastel blanket draped over her front, but Mallory jumped up to give me a hug.

"Thank you so much for the baby gift. You were too generous."

I shook my head. "Everyone needs a savings account from day one. At least, that's what all the experts say."

Lily looked up and winked at me. "Keeping her off the pole like a good uncle. We appreciate it."

I shrugged. "Let the girl dance if she wants to dance. Who are we to judge? At least now she'll be able to afford good costumes to wear while doing it."

Once the baby was done eating, they made me hold her. Thankfully, I was sitting down, so the risk of accidentally tossing her onto the floor wasn't quite as great as the time my mom had handed me one of the other grandkids while I'd been standing in the kitchen with soapy hands from washing dishes.

I spent the rest of the day playing happy family for my mother's sake. It seemed to make her happy to see me there among them, even though it always left me feeling strangely alone.

After a big family dinner, I retreated to my own house on the property to get some space from the noise and activity before having to do it all over again the following day at the shower.

I changed into pajama pants and an ancient hoodie and wandered into the kitchen to poke through the fridge for something to eat. My caretaker always did a great job of stocking the place when I visited, and sure enough, there was a dish of hearty pasta waiting for me.

I threw it in the microwave just as the doorbell rang.

When I opened the door, my friend Lolo breezed in as if it hadn't been at least a year since the last time we saw each other.

"Oh! Thank god, darling. Marigold told me you'd be here this weekend, and I thought, ‘Perfect! Oscar's home. Just the distraction I need.' Now, shove over. I'm fit to be tied and thirsty as fuck. Tell me you have rosé." He threw air-kisses in my general direction before flitting off down the hall.

I followed him into the kitchen. For some reason, Lolo had fallen in love with my Vermont house the year before and took any excuse to visit whether I was there or not.

"I'm sure I do. How are you? What are you doing in Vermont? Where's your other half?" I couldn't have known the name of Lolo's flavor of the week, but I definitely knew there would be one. There always was. Lolo was like an opera singer, at his best with a spotlight and an audience of fans.

He waved slender fingers at me before crouching down to peer into the glass-front wine fridge. "Pish. I don't need a man. I've decided I'm on a cum cleanse."

I moved over to the cabinet where the wineglasses lived and pulled down two stemless ones. With Lolo's expressive hands, there was no sense in risking a spill.

"Probably a good idea," I said. "Maybe pair that cleanse with some bloodwork just to set a baseline for your next set of escapades."

"Mm. I have my eye on someone for the next chapter of my life. It's why I'm here in Vermont, actually. And he's the monogamous type." This was interesting enough to raise both of my eyebrows but he waved the topic away before I could ask questions. "Enough about me, what's new with you? Your younger sister's getting married, I heard. Tell me they haven't roped you in for a best man job."

"Stepsister. And not this time, no." I took the bottle from him and poured us each a glass of rosé. "Her wedding shower's tomorrow. Tonight was their big family dinner."

"Their dinner?" He narrowed his eyes. "Oscar, precious, hasn't your mom been remarried to Birch for, like, a decade?"

"Fifteen years," I corrected. I took a sip of wine, then swirled my glass just to watch the light reflect off the surface. "This year's their crystal anniversary."

"So at a certain point, don't you just stop calling them step?"

I blinked up at him. "It's legally and factually accurate."

"Hmm." When the microwave dinged, Lolo pulled my pasta dish out and set it on the counter. "Ew, no. Where are your crudités? Mama needs something a little lighter tonight. A lovely cheese straw or perhaps a seasoned pretzel."

He started searching through the large pantry, muttering disappointment until he finally made a happy sound and reappeared with a bag of pretzels in his hands. "Can't go wrong with Dots. Honey, are you sure you want to eat that much cheese? Because we're not getting any younger, you know."

I finished serving myself a heaping portion of the pasta into a bowl and grabbed a fork before plunking it down on the kitchen table and taking the seat next to where he was perched. "I'm starving."

"Starving, when you just came from dinner?" Lolo's eyes widened. "Oh, have your family become fruitarians or something? I dated a guy like that once. ‘Watermelon for dinner again, Bryce? No, no, it's great! So delicious and nutritious and… watery!'" He chomped a pretzel thoughtfully. "Always felt a bit like I was cheating on him when I'd hit the Thai place on my way home."

I snorted. "They're not fruitarians. It's just that Flower Family dinners are… boisterous," I decided. "Ask Rose to pass the potatoes, and suddenly, every eye turns like you're a gazelle who wandered into a lions' den, and the whole crew yells at once. ‘I didn't know Oscar loved potatoes!' ‘Oscar, why have you never mentioned that potatoes are your favorite food?' ‘Here, Oscar, have my potatoes.' ‘Hey, Oscar, I'm going to set you up with a potato farmer I know. You guys would be perfect for one another.'" I forked up a bite of pasta. "It's perhaps the one situation in my life where I've decided it's best not to call attention to myself."

Lolo laughed, then quickly sobered. "Wait, you're serious? You're sitting there hungry because you won't let them share? That's not the Oscar I know and love. Not that I'm a great expert on all things family, darling, but it certainly seems they like you?—"

"Of course. I'm very likable." I winked, and Lolo rolled his eyes. "I like them too. We get along fine. I knew them all when they were children, for heaven's sake. But it's different now that my mother is their mother. I don't want anyone to feel pressured to… to do, or be, or feel, or say the right things. Including me."

He stared at me with his mouth open, pretzel dust coating his lips. "Oscar. Sweetheart. Babykins?—"

"And I'm not sitting around hungry, clearly." I took another large bite of pasta and chewed with satisfaction. "Now, pour us some more wine and tell me what you've been up to."

I needed the distraction. Dealing with my family made me feel unsettled, and the last thing I wanted was to cave and contact Hugh in a moment of weakness.

Lolo started telling me about a recent stint traveling around the Mediterranean consulting with a "silver Daddy" on the necessary refurbishments for the interior of his yacht. I listened with half an ear while also trying to figure out a strategy for surviving Hyacinth's wedding shower the next day.

As usual, Lolo was content to talk at me with minimal response necessary from me except nods and a few mmhm's. So when my phone rang after a while, he simply kept talking, unconcerned. But when I glanced at the screen, I did a double take and blinked repeatedly before I could force my brain to believe what I saw.

Hugh.

Seeing his name was the most wonderful gift and the worst sort of temptation all rolled into one, but in the end, there wasn't a single doubt about whether I would pick up. If Hugh called, I would always answer.

"Hey," I breathed.

"I need a favor," he began.