The Pact (Winslow Brothers #2)(44)

Ty laughs beside me, and a whole new wave of panic renews as he wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Unlike the rest of us, right, Sophie?”

She shrugs. “You said it. Not me.”

Instantly, it feels as if everyone’s head turns in our direction, and I almost choke on the saliva in my throat from the pressure of it all.

What are they going to ask me? Who do I tell them I even am? How in the fuck am I going to explain this little moment when Flynn finally comes inside?

They’re going to think I’m a tart, for cripes’ sake.

But the stares are temporary, and to my surprise, everyone is back to their own conversations and tasks. No questions. No insults. No recognition, really, whatsoever.

If anything, his family notices my presence, and then…moves right the fuck on.

What the heck?

“Come on, everyone! Food is ready!” an older woman I think might be Flynn’s mom calls out. “Time to eat!”

I watch as a few women begin to carry platters of food into the dining room, chatting happily with one another as they go, and I’m torn between asking if they need help or burrowing into the nice hardwood floors of the house.

Overall, the current sentiment makes me feel as if I’ve either turned invisible and I don’t know it, or they couldn’t care less who I am.

Ty puts his hand to my lower back, thankfully not in a creepy way, and leads me into the dining room. Flynn is still nowhere to be seen, and I’m starting to get really close to bolting. I mean, I’m a fake wife. If I leave burning rubber on their floors on my way out the door, it’ll only be really weird for another three months or so, right?

Ty pulls out a chair for me, and without much of a choice other than the Road Runner scenario, I take a seat in it. Flynn’s voice finally—thank God—breaks through the chaos, and I bob and weave my head like a fucking emu to get a look at where he is.

Person after person stops him for a greeting on his way down the hall, giving hugs and backslaps and big, huge smiles that they in no way gave me. I’m an intruder in their lives, and I feel terrible for showing up unannounced.

When Flynn finally gets to the mouth of the dining room, I lasso his gaze with the frantic panic of my own and wait for him to figure out what to do. He gives me a kind smile as Ty takes the seat next to me, and I want to murder him for it.

This is not funny, Flynn Winslow. I’m on the edge of a cliff here!

Evidently recognizing the severity of my anxiety, Flynn wastes no more time stepping into the dining room, approaching Ty at the table, and tapping him soundly on the shoulder. Ty looks up at him curiously.

“You mind moving so I can sit beside my wife?” Flynn says without preamble, making me nearly choke on my tongue. And I’m not the only one floored by the simple statement—the entire room brimming with people comes to a screeching stop.

Did he just… Did he just introduce me as his wife?

I don’t miss the way the attention of the room has now come right back to me, and this time, it is different. No apathetic glances here. Nope.

Holy shit. Either this is really intense, or my face is on actual fire.

“I’m sorry,” a blonde with blue eyes and a friendly face says, the first to speak. “Did you just say wife?”

Only moments later, Ty turns to me. “You’re here with Flynn?”

I nod. “I-I… Well, I tried to…um…say something, but—” My voice shakes, and my bones vibrate all the way inside me. Flynn notices and puts a calming, steady hand to my shoulder, effectively shutting me up.

“Ty, it’s your own fault that the whole family, including you, automatically assumes any new woman at family dinner is here with you.”

“That’s because he’s a manwhore.”

“Jude!” the woman who I’m now positive is Flynn’s mom snaps. “Language! There are little ears at the table!”

Those little ears are an adorable blond-haired girl who just shrugs and giggles. “Uncle Jude says stuff like that all the time, Grandma.”

“Because I’m a genius, right, Lex? Statistically, only geniuses use swear words.” Jude winks at the little girl, completely ignoring his mom’s scolding, but an older man on the other side of the huge table and his female companion start to snicker.

“You know you’ve got problems when you don’t even know which woman at the family function is yours. Now, Ty, please remember, this woman right here is your aunt Paula. My wife.”

“It’s not funny, Uncle Brad.” Ty groans, and the whole room erupts in rabid laughter.

“Oh, yes. Yes, it is,” the man who opened the door for me earlier says. “And this is my house, so even if it weren’t, I can laugh if I want to.”

Immediately, the room dissolves into utter chaos. People yelling and shouting and shoving at one another while Flynn’s head bounces back and forth at a million questions coming from different directions.

I watch him closely as he shakes his head, puts his fingers into his mouth, and lets loose with a whistle that will probably wake up the dogs in Brooklyn.

“Everyone, shut up so we can get this over with. Yes, I’m married. And this gorgeous woman right here is my wife, Daisy,” Flynn says, and my jaw hits the top of my pencil skirt. Does he…does he actually think that’s going to calm them down?