pauses to rub his nephew’s head and kiss his niece’s hair.
We both shake our heads.
The whole family shares looks.
Apprehension slithers up my spine, and I reach for my phone, which isn’t in my pocket.
Nor is it in my bag.
At least, I don’t think. It’s hard to subtly reach in and dig through everything in there.
“What?” Tyler asks them as he pulls a handful of small gummy bear packets from his pockets and tosses them to the under-ten crowd, who all shriek and lunge.
His sisters get matching eye twitches, but he ignores them.
We both do, because his dad has a weird look in his eyes, which he refuses to aim at either of us as he speaks. “Big write-up on you and Cranford and his sister.”
“And?” Tyler says.
“And Amelia Cranford is still in love with you,” Keely says. “According to the gossip pages, she hasn’t talked to her brother since he forbade her to date you and beat you up back… How many years ago was that? Six? Seven?”
Tyler grunts and pulls my chair out.
I peer at him.
Nothing.
Totally stone-cold poker face.
And that’s when the butterflies hit.
He told me he fell head over heels in love with her.
But that was years ago. Surely, he doesn’t feel the same now.
That’s what I’d tell my clients.
So why is it not working when I tell it to myself?
Because you know when you’re the consolation prize, Muffy. You’ve always been the consolation prize.
“She was supposed to be on that reality TV show,” Britney says to her kids’ coloring books. “Which one is it? The one about competing for a husband?”
“Oh my god, I can’t even keep track of them anymore,” Keely says.
It doesn’t matter which show. What matters is that if she’s competing on reality TV for a husband, she’s hot. And has a personality.
It’s a rule. You can’t be on TV if you’re not hot and don’t have a personality.
And if she wants Tyler—would she go to reality TV lengths in real life to get him?
My heart is fluttering into a panic. Stay calm, Muffy. Stay. Calm. Tyler knows who you are. He likes you for who you are. He’s not going to dump you just because someone he had a thing for way back when is suddenly into him and available and hot.
“Mimosa?” I croak to the server as she pops in and smiles at me. “Maybe skip the orange juice part and substitute vodka for the champagne?”
“She’ll have a salted caramel hot chocolate, extra whipped cream, with a shot of Baileys,” Tyler corrects.
Swoon, my vagina sighs.
I’m not mad at him for changing my order. I do like his idea better. And not just because he had it.
He drops into the seat next to me and drapes his arm over the back of my chair. “Ignore them,” he mutters.
Which isn’t I don’t love her anymore and I’m not interested.
I force a smile and reach for my water with clumsy hands.
But he knows me, and he’s steadying the glass almost before the ice clinks against the side.
Be cool, Muffy. Be. Cool.
“How’d everyone sheep last night?” I blurt.
Sheep.
Oh my god.
I asked them how they sheeped.
“Like the dead,” Allie answers.
Tyler grabs a straw and throws it at her. “Shove it.”
“What? That wasn’t a zombie Grandpa joke.”
“Definitely not,” Keely agrees.
One of the kids—I swear I knew all their names yesterday—spills a lidded cup of what I sincerely hope is apple juice, and another sticks a crayon up his nose. “Look, Mama, I gots a booger!”
I love these people. I truly do.
I steal a glance at Tyler.
He turns a soft smile my way, and that’s all it takes. One slight hitch of his lips, and my pulse pulls back on the throttle and my panic chills.
He likes me.
He really, really likes me.
“Oooh, brunch time!” Daisy and West stroll into the room, West holding Remy, who pumps his feet when he sees everyone. He sets the little boy down, and he toddles straight to Britney.
“Favorite aunt!” she crows.
Daisy slips an arm around May Ella and kisses her cheek, and I swear she whispers something that makes May Ella’s nose twitch.
They both look at me, and there it goes again.
The doubt.
Things have been too good for too long. Tyler’s sexy, attractive, talented ex-girlfriend still pines for him. His family is giving me weird looks.
“What the fu—udge is going on?” Tyler asks.
“Nothing,” his mom says.
“It’s never nothing.”
“Tyler, are you related to the most amazing woman on the planet or not?” Daisy asks with a grin. “If it’s nothing, it’s nothing.”
“It’s possibly not