10. Chapter Ten

A few days ago, I'd left our strategy meeting dubious about Daisy's commitment to this idea of hers. Our clients always came to us raring to go. Often, Saoirse or I had to rein them in and bring them back down to earth. With Daisy, I felt like I'd practically had to twist her arm to get her to even consider going through with this. It had not inspired a lot of confidence. Watching her meticulous preparation now convinced me she took this seriously.

Flitting around the rustic wood kitchen table, she chewed her bottom lip, deciding where things went. Since I kept getting in her way, she'd given me busywork of opening wrappers and packages. In the end, she created a dessert platter—giving me a cupcake before I filched one—and a table covered in carefully arranged cheese, cured meat, crackers and bread, nuts, dips, and dried fruit.

"Stand over there and look like you're arranging things. I'll film you, and you can put it on your social media when you're ready," I directed. The house would make a nice backdrop. The eight-foot windows drew a lot of light into the open living room and kitchen combo, making the place even more inviting than it already was.

Daisy shot me a glare that said, "Are you actually dumb?" At least, that was how I interpreted it.

"I've been doing family and friends' parties for years, Miles. I have more footage than I know what to do with."

"No, you know what to do with it. You were using your big brain and thinking ahead. You're going to have a backlog of posts you can make once we get your social media fired up."

"Yeah…" She waved what I was saying away. "I can't think about that right now. Everyone's going to be here soon—"

A sweet southern voice called Daisy's name from the entry, cutting her off. Next thing I knew, a parade of Dunhams filled the kitchen, led by a small woman with big, bouncy blonde-mixed-with-silver curls. She went straight to Daisy and hugged the life out of her then turned her attention to me.

"You have to be Miles." With her accent, my name became "Mals," and I never wanted to hear it another way.

"I am. Miles Aldrich." I stuck out my hand, and she immediately batted it away to envelop me in a hug just as tight as the one she'd given her daughter. She smelled like flowers, and her arms and chest were softly cushioned. I couldn't remember ever having a hug as good as this one.

She pulled back, keeping her hands on my arms. "Whitney Mae Dunham." She gave my arms a squeeze. "My, my, someone keeps up with the gym. You'll have to show me some moves. My doctor says I need to lift weights to help strengthen my bones. Isn't that a doozy? Thinking about my bones makes me feel old."

"Mama," Daisy tugged her mother away from me, "let him breathe. I might need him later."

Standing next to each other, their resemblance was obvious. It was in their big brown eyes, the heart shape of their faces, their petite stature. But where Daisy was lithe, her mother was plump. Daisy was cool, and her mom was warm cookies. Daisy was dark and wary, and her mom was bright and open.

I beamed at her. "I could show you around the gym, Whitney. It's where I get my best thinking done."

"You didn't tell me how cute he is," Whitney admonished.

Daisy closed her eyes. "I didn't notice."

Whitney hmphed. "Sure you didn't."

A tall, wiry man in a black suit came to stand between them, spreading his arms around their shoulders. "Is my wife hitting on you?"

I grinned. "No, she's simply stating a fact."

Daisy groaned, and her parents laughed. Her dad stuck his hand out, and we shook. His hands were large and smooth. For a split second, it occurred to me he'd probably handled dead bodies, then logic kicked in. If he had handled them, he'd undoubtedly worn gloves. Besides that, I'd shaken hands with plenty of people, and how many hadn't washed their hands after using the bathroom? The percentage was probably staggering. That should have given me pause.

"Seth Dunham. Welcome, welcome. Have a drink, grab a seat, I'm going to go change out of my suit." He loosened his tie and held it up like a noose. "Can't stand these things."

This must've been who Daisy had gotten her dark side from. I liked it.

And I hated wearing ties too.

After that, I met Landry, a leaner, more outdoorsy version of her mother, her husband Tom—bland, but seemed decent—five-year-old Edie, and three-year-old Hazel. Edie and Hazel were two sides of the same coin. The older had a little brown bob, and the younger had the blonde version. They both stared at me with the big brown eyes that carried through all the Dunham women.

Landry was all praise for Daisy's efforts. She and Hazel examined the grazing table while Edie climbed on a stool to get eye-to-eye with the dessert platter on the kitchen island.

I leaned on the cool marble beside her. "Those cupcakes are mine."

She turned sharply in my direction, her eyes narrowing. "No, they're not."

"They are. Your aunt Daisy made them for me. You can eat the brownies."

"You can't hog all the cupcakes," she hissed.

"It's not hogging if they're mine to begin with."

Her eyes were slits. Her tiny mouth pulled into a deep pout. "Why are you here?"

"To help Aunt Daisy and celebrate your mom's birthday."

"Do you even know my mommy?" She pushed up on her knees and brought her fists to her hips. "I've never seen you before."

"I know, kid. We just met a few minutes ago. I'm Miles." I shook my head. "Geesh, you might want to get your memory checked."

She scrunched her button nose. "How do I check my memory?"

"It's easy." I put one hand on top of my head and the other flat on my stomach. "If you can pat your head while rubbing circles on your tummy, your memory's just fine. If you can't…well, I don't want to talk about that."

I demonstrated, and damn, it wasn't as easy as I remembered. Once I got going, she started too. Kid was rubbing her head and patting her tummy then rubbing both.

"You almost have it," I said.

Her tongue peeked out as she concentrated. "I can do it. I know I can."

The longer she worked at it, the more family gathered around us. Daisy had edged in beside me, shooting me a warning look. I didn't know what she was warning me about. I was on my best behavior.

"What are you doing?" she muttered.

"The kid thinks she's entitled to cupcakes. I'm setting her straight."

"She's five."

"Never too young to learn life skills. Look at her, she's getting it."

Sure enough, little Edie was rubbing circles on her middle and giving the top of her head pats. Her dad let out a whoop, and her mom clapped for her, which threw her off her game, but it didn't matter. She'd had it for a while there, and that was what counted.

I gave her a thumbs up. "You passed the test, kid. For that, you can have one cupcake."

She puffed up her chest. "Three."

I groaned like she was hurting me. "Fine. Three, but that's my limit."

Edie turned to Daisy. "Miles isn't very good at sharing. I don't think he should come back to Grandma and Grandpa's house until he can share better." Then she flickered her bright eyes to me. "They taught me to share in preschool, when I was three. Did you forget to go to preschool?"

"All right, girlie." Her mom scooped her off the stool. "Let's leave Miles alone. If we get in his face too much this time, he'll be too scared to come back."

Daisy folded her arms. "Miles is just here to see what I do. He's not coming back."

Landry rolled her eyes. "When has Mama met someone who isn't her new best friend? Before you know it, Miles will be over for Thanksgiving."

"Is that an invitation?" I winged a brow, teasing Daisy. "If it is, I accept."

"Thanksgiving is months away," she intoned.

"I'm completely free that day."

My last Thanksgiving with my parents had ended in my father throwing the turkey against the wall, leaving a streak of grease and my mother in huge, sobbing tears. She'd gotten wasted and went on an online shopping binge. He'd left for his "club"—more likely code for one of his mistresses" houses. I'd spent the following day lining up a painter who could come out on short notice, and by Saturday afternoon, it had been like it had never happened.

That was two years ago. Last year, I hung out on my own and watched the parade and dog show. Turned out, being by myself had been far more preferable than with parents who couldn't possibly care less for me or each other, quite fucking frankly.

"You're not coming here for Thanksgiving," Daisy argued as her mother approached.

Whitney Mae gasped. "Miles, do you need a place to go for Thanksgiving? You're more than welcome here. In fact, give me your phone number so we can arrange it."

"Mama, it's April."

Whitney flipped her curls. "So what? It's never too early to start plannin', Miss Daisy."

I grinned at them both. They were quite a pair. Sunshine and storm clouds. "Yeah, Miss Daisy. You know how much I like plans."

We were talking shit. I knew this wasn't actually going to happen. But, man, the idea of being with this family on a day all about families made me kind of wish it would. I'd even share the cupcakes.

Somewhere around the third time Tom sank my battleship, I got up from the family room floor to stretch my legs. It turned out all Landry had wanted for her thirtieth birthday was to hang out with her family playing board games and eating her sister's food.

I was waiting for all of them to peel off their skin and unveil their true demonic selves. No one was actually this wholesome. This had to be some supernatural quest to harvest souls or something equally nefarious.

Either way, I was having fun.

I raised my arms over my head to stretch out my stiff spine and twisted left and right. The person standing by the kitchen island had me doing a double take. No one else seemed to have noticed or cared he was there, but I ventured over, focusing on the wrapper in one of his hands.

Casually approaching the dessert tray, which had been picked over but still had plenty left, I plucked up a brownie. Daisy was getting me hooked on all her baked goods. She'd also made a sick baklava and delectable cinnamon and walnut rugelach.

The guy looked up, his shoulders jumping when his gaze landed on me. This had to be Reed, the youngest Dunham. From Daisy's description, he was fourteen, not an easy age.

"Hey," I greeted. "I'm Miles, Daisy's friend."

The kid wore wire-framed glasses, and his mop of curls hung down his forehead, dipping behind his glasses to half cover his eyes. He peered at me for a second before looking away.

"You're not her friend. She's paying you," he muttered.

"That's not strictly true. No money has passed hands, but you might be right about the first part. We're more like acquaintances, but I have a good feeling about her."

He sniffed. "She doesn't need a boyfriend."

"Cool. Are we sharing things our siblings don't need? Is it that time again? My brother, West? He doesn't need another pair of hiking boots. He has an entire closet dedicated to outdoor wear. Granted, he owns a company that manufactures it, but I still say he doesn't need it."

Reed had the Dunham squint down. His eyes were narrow slits, but his glare was like an x-ray, seeing right through me.

"Why are you talking to me?"

"It would be kind of weird to stand here while you're standing there and not speak."

He shrugged. "Would've been better than listening to you talk about your rich brother."

"That's what you got out of that story? I was aiming for sharing Westie's overconsumption of hiking accessories, but I see what you mean."

I wasn't going to let this kid get to me. I recognized an angry teen. It was like looking in a time machine, though I hadn't been quite as spindly.

"Why are you even here?" he asked.

"Why are any of us here, really?" I drummed my fingers on the counter. "Are you going to come hang out with your family?"

Another heavy shrug. "I'd been considering it before…this."

I went to poke at him some more, but Daisy appeared next to her brother. She was older by a decade at least, but he towered over her.

"Hey, Reed." She rubbed his arm and gave him a gentle smile. "Landry would die for you to play a game with her. Your choice, even though it's her birthday."

Reed hesitated, flicking his eyes from Daisy to me. "All right." Then he ducked around us, his head down, curling into himself.

When I turned back to Daisy, she was examining me with her usual wariness.

"What did you say to him?"

"Not much. I introduced myself, he told me you don't need a boyfriend, so I told him about my brother's hiking boot collection. I think we were bonding, but you interrupted before we could fully cement it."

"He's shy."

I nodded. "Yeah, I got that. Got that he's pissed off at the world too."

"He used to talk to me." She shoved her hair behind her ear. "He doesn't anymore."

"Well, you're a girl."

"No kidding."

I chuffed. She didn't get it. "Think about it. Try to remember being that age." I squeezed her shoulder and dipped down, speaking low. "I'm going to head out. Thanks for having me here and giving me a glimpse of something nice. I had a really good time."

"You don't have to go."

"That's nice of you to say, but I'm going to leave on a high note and let you do your family thing." I picked up a cupcake and a brownie. "Monday, Daisy. Come to your appointment ready to dig in."

"Okay," she murmured. "I'll be there."

Whitney didn't let me leave before I took her phone number, then she hugged me even tighter than the first time. Two hugs in one day was a world record for me. And they were so high quality, they'd keep me full for a year at least.

They'd probably have to.