for Chloe the same way she cares about them.
“Sorry about that,” she tells me as we return to the kitchen. Around us, the chatter of conversations from the tables drowns out our own from prying ears. “They’re super protective of me.”
“In that case, I like them already. It’s nice that you have so many people looking out for you.” Unlike her family.
Although in the case of her family, that’s probably a good thing.
My mouth curls to one side. “I don’t suppose if I smuggle in a bottle of the finest scotch, they’d give me their blessing when it comes to being your boyfriend?”
“You mean my fake boyfriend.” She laughs—and the sweet sound of it causes something deep inside me to stir awake. A something that I don’t want to examine too carefully. “But that might work. They can’t say you’re not worthy enough after that.”
We return to the table a few minutes later with dinner plates filled with turkey and all the fixings.
After we finish serving all the other tables, we return to the one with Chloe’s pseudo grandfathers, to see if they need anything else.
Other than alcohol.
Before I realize what I’m doing, my hand migrates to her lower back. The move isn’t missed by the six men. All wear smug smiles.
“You do realize, if you hurt her,” Frank says between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes, “we will go after you.”
“Of course, you won’t have to worry too much about that.” Samuel stabs a piece of turkey into the cranberry sauce on his plate. “Not unless Frank here takes out your kneecaps with his walker first.”
He might have been joking, but there’s no missing the way Chloe’s stiffens under my hand. Unwittingly, he’s come too close to what her mobster grandfather, Vadik Orlov, might have done if he was still in the picture.
Fortunately for me, he’s facing jail for the rest of his life.
Unfortunately for me, his grandson Nikolai isn’t.
I have a feeling if Nikolai ever discovers I’ve been lying to Chloe, Frank taking out my kneecaps with his walker will be the least of my problems.
Agatha waves Chloe and me over to her table. “My granddaughter sent me pictures of my eight-month-old great-granddaughter. Would you like to see them?”
“I’d love to,” Chloe says, smiling.
Agatha passes her several print photos. In the first one, a baby is sitting on a pink blanket, smiling. Her hands are pressed down on her teddy bear’s belly, and her pale-blonde hair sticks up in all directions.
Chloe’s smile widens. “She’s adorable.” She moves the photo to the bottom of the pile, revealing a picture of the baby in a bathtub filled with bubbles. She’s clearly having fun splashing and squishing them.
“What about you two?” Agatha asks. “Do you want to have kids one day?”
Chloe is still studying the photos when she answers. “I would love to have kids.” Her voice sounds distant, as if she’s daydreaming about something and not really here.
Her answer also surprises me, considering she’s been adamant about remaining single.
Agatha looks at me, her expression expectant. I’m not sure what to say.
Agatha’s question must have suddenly sunk in because Chloe’s head shoots upright. “I mean, we’ve only started dating.” Chloe fires me a panicked look. “We’re not thinking about those kinds of things yet.”
“But you both want kids, right? Now’s probably the time to discuss it. You don’t want to waste time dating a man who doesn’t want kids. My granddaughter did that and didn’t find out until a week before the wedding that her fiancé wasn’t interested in starting a family. It caused quite the scandal.” Agatha chuckles.
Chloe looks at the photo again of the baby in the bathtub, confusion creasing her brow.
“The best part,” Agatha says, “was that Beckie still went on their honeymoon, just minus the groom—because why waste a perfectly good plane ticket to Hawaii?—and met the man who is now her husband, and the father of my adorable granddaughter.”
“I guess she didn’t wait quite as long to ask him about his stance on kids, huh?” I ask.
Agatha laughs. “You got that right. The topic came up about five minutes after they first met on a dinner cruise his ex-girlfriend had booked—prior to deciding an affair with her boyfriend’s personal assistant was a great idea. Beckie got a little tipsy on mai tais and blurted the entire I-was-such-an-idiot-for-not-asking-sooner story to the man.
“She asked him if he wanted kids—although I don’t think at the time she was planning to marry him. But things worked out great in the end.” Beaming,