I was thankful for the press, but it did give me a good reason to spend three days there locked up with Brayden.
The past two weeks had been a little weird though. It was stressful to keep looking over my shoulder, and Brayden tensed up every time Sasha called. But so far, it seemed the reporters didn’t have any more pictures of us, especially not one where my face was visible. I hadn’t been back to the cottage though, since it was obvious they were stalking the place.
We didn’t want to tempt them once they left Brayden’s penthouse, so we spent all our nights in my tiny apartment. The guys had started filming live videos separately, and they were doing a great job on their own. My assignment with them was officially over, since they’d only needed a roadmap from me.
It was all peaceful here at Josie and Hunter’s. The living room was decorated with pink balloons and glittery garlands. They’d brought in extra armchairs for the party, though many of us were standing and circulating around the room so we could catch up with everyone, though there were so many people that the task seemed impossible. Skye was here with her husband, Rob, and their son, who was trying to pop a balloon with his bare hands. Tess and her fiancé were chatting with Laney and Cole. I was pretty sure it was about their upcoming weddings. Ryker and his wife, Heather, had their hands full with their newborn and their older daughter, Avery. Having everyone in one place was making my heart happy, especially seeing my parents again. They’d flown in the evening before and were staying over a few extra days. I had immense respect for them, for the way they loved each other and for all the values they taught us.
While Mom and Dad were still sitting with Brayden, I headed to Ian and Dylan, who were at the opposite side of the room.
“Hey, guys, think you could help out Brayden?” I asked them.
They both glanced at the couch next to the fireplace where the three of them were sitting.
“Hell no. Mom’s got her tough face on. Better Brayden than us,” Ian said.
Dylan chuckled. “Come on, bro. Let’s do our sister a solid. We’re better at evading Mom’s questions.”
“Thank you, Dylan.” I emphasized his name, frowning at Ian. “Happy I can at least count on one brother.”
Ian scoffed. “Hey, you can count on me too. I’m happy not to be on Mom’s radar for once.”
Dylan glowered at him, and all three of us headed toward Brayden and my parents. Between all the adults and the kids around, the room was so loud that I couldn’t hear what they were saying until we were right in front of them.
“Oh, did Isabelle ever tell you the story of the field trip—"
I exchanged an alarmed glance with Ian and Dylan.
“Mom, this isn’t the moment to break out the embarrassing-Isabelle tradition,” Dylan interrupted.
“You scared away at least three boyfriends in high school with those stories,” I added.
“That’s not true,” Mom countered.
“Yes it is,” Ian insisted.
Mom glanced at Dad. “Back me up here.”
Dad flashed a grin identical to Ian’s. “They are right though.”
“I don’t mind,” Brayden said. “The more I know, the better.”
I glanced at my brothers. “Help! He doesn’t know what he’s getting into.”
“We can’t help a man against his will,” Ian said with mock seriousness.
Dylan grinned at me. “But you can’t say we haven’t tried.”
I narrowed my eyes. “That’s the best you can do, really?”
They were saved from replying by the sound of clinking glasses. Josie announced that we could all go grab snacks. They’d laid everything from mini sandwiches to sinful brownies all over the kitchen counter. To my relief, my parents were hungry. Brayden got up too, lacing an arm around my shoulders. We stayed put though, because everyone had rushed to the kitchen, and there was a substantial line.
“Why are you so tense?” he asked.
“Oh, you know. Trying to field weird moments with my parents and all that.”
Smiling, he kissed my forehead. “Your mom was messing with you. She was asking me about my parents before, only switched topics when you came over.”
My jaw dropped. “I can’t believe it. She’s getting better and better at trolling me.”
“I can see where you get your sass from.” He chuckled, but I detected a slight crease on his forehead.
“What’s on your mind?”
“I keep thinking about Mom’s birthday.”
“The dangerous idea I gave you is still percolating in your mind?”
He nodded.