Neat (Becker Brothers, #2)(83)

And, perhaps my favorite addition to that family table at Mom’s was the woman sitting next to me.

Mallory sipped on her gin and tonic, smiling at Betty while her fingers drew circles on my knee under the table. Her hair was a neon mix of orange and pink, bright colors that set her blue eyes aflame against her pale skin, and she had a fresh tattoo healing behind her ear. It was a small lotus flower, a symbol she’d told me reminded her that, like the lotus flower born from the mud, we must embrace the darkest parts of ourselves to become our most beautiful selves.

I reached down and covered her hand with my own, giving it a squeeze. She smiled, tossing me a wink before she turned her attention back to Betty, chiming in with her own story next. And I was content to sit back and listen, to watch her fit in with my family just like I knew she always would. It seemed she’d grown on everyone — even Jordan, who was perhaps the most hesitant. Once she moved in with me, they had no choice but to accept her as part of me.

That’s what family did.

And it seemed like everyone was beginning to love her.

Well, everyone except for Mom.

She’d been quiet when I’d told my family that Mallory and I had made up, that we were in love, that she was moving in with me. She’d been quiet the first time I brought Mallory to dinner, too — but polite, of course. And though she hadn’t warmed up much over the past five months, she hadn’t disowned me, either.

I guessed that counted for something.

As for Mallory’s family, they’d kept their word of disowning her. She hadn’t spoken to any of them since that day she’d told her father off in his office, and though she tried to hide it, I knew it hurt her sometimes.

But I was her family, now. We were her family.

And unlike what she’d been used to before — we’d be a real one to her.

“Mallory, can you help me in the kitchen?” Mom called, and the table went silent for a moment.

Betty was quick to kick the conversation back in gear as Mallory stood, squeezing my shoulder. “Of course.” She disappeared into the kitchen, and I worried my cheek wondering what Mom was saying to her.

“It’s getting pretty serious with you two, isn’t it?” Jordan asked, nodding toward the kitchen.

I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I kept my eyes on the women inside those walls, anyway. “Serious as the last two minutes of a tied Super Bowl.”

Jordan chuckled, lifting his glass of whiskey. “Better hope Mom doesn’t eat her alive, then.”

I cheersed my glass to his, taking a long sip and letting it burn on the way down. Watching Mallory in the kitchen with Mom, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride at the woman she was, the woman I loved, the woman who would someday be a part of our family. I knew it without a single doubt in my mind, especially after all we’d been through.

If the first month of our life hadn’t been enough of a ride, the last five months would have sealed the deal. Between learning how to live together — her perpetually a mess, me perpetually a neat freak — and adjusting to a new way of life with each of our new careers, it had been a whirlwind. Mallory was spending every hour of her day creating, whether it was painting or sketching or crafting or photography. Anything she could make and sell at the craft fairs around the state, she made. It was all part of her plan to save up to buy a shop of her own one day, and I helped her in whatever way I could — even when she asked me to pose nude for an exotic series of black and white sketches she sold for fifteen grand at a romance novel festival.

As for me, I was working longer hours at the distillery, turning the tour guide department into what I’d always envisioned it could be. We had more tours being booked than ever before — more than we had people to give tours — which meant I had my hands full trying to figure out how to accommodate the new demand.

And while I loved chasing my dreams with her, my favorite moments with Mallory were the quiet ones, when we were on the couch, Dalí curled up in a ball between us, a book in our laps, soft music playing in the background. I loved reaching over to close her book, to kiss her, to pull her into our bedroom where we made love.

I loved sharing my life with her.

And I knew without hesitation that I wanted to do it forever.

Mom carried the cake in, setting it down in the middle of the table with slices already pre-cut. She distributed small paper plates and my heathen brothers dug in immediately as Mallory took her seat next to me again.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

She smiled, unfolding her napkin and putting it in her lap again. “Everything’s fine. She was just threatening to hang me by my neon ponytail if I ever hurt her baby boy.”

I blanched. “She didn’t.”

“Oh, she did,” Mallory assured me on a laugh, patting my knee. “But, I don’t blame her. And it was a good talk, one I’m glad we had. I have to prove to her that I’m not like the rest of my family, and I don’t think that’s an unfair request. It’s also not a challenge I’m not willing to take on.” She leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “Especially for you.”

I smirked, squeezing her hand where it grabbed mine under the table just as Mom called our attention.

“Now, before you go digging in,” she said, swatting my hand where I was about to put the first bit of cake in my mouth.