Binding the Shadows (Arcadia Bell #3)(37)

I slapped on a smile and greeted everyone with a weak “hello.”

Rose’s gaze swept over me as she studied me through glasses perched low on her nose. I braced myself.

“Good afternoon, Cady. You’re looking better today.”

Uhh . . . was that a dig? She smiled at me. Pleasantly. Was it fake? Was she trying to tell me that my boobs were a salacious spectacle, further proof to her theory that I was unfit to be in Jupe’s life?

“No chasing down robbers, I take it.” She pressed two fingers into her silvery cropped hair and fussed it into place.

“Actually—”

“Did you catch them?”

“Not yet.”

She smiled again. “I’m sure you will. Do you like seafood?”

Still waiting for the punch line, I answered hesitantly. “Umm, yes?”

“Good. We’re going to Cypress House, out on the water. Ever been?”

“No.”

“We have standing reservations,” Mrs. Holiday said. “We go every year.”

“Maybe I should just run in and change—”

“It’s casual, don’t worry,” Mr. Holiday assured me.

“The kind of place that gives you wooden hammers to crack crabs on the table,” Lon added.

“Which is awesome,” Jupe piped up, now over the fact that I flaunted my dirty pillows in his face. “Crab guts everywhere. I once got crab brain in my eye. But, Cady, listen—”

“Listening.”

“—they have these things called spot prawns. They are the biggest shrimp you’ve ever seen, and they’re only available certain times of the year. And they grill them in the shell. Oh, and they normally come three on a plate, but I can eat a dozen.”

“That’s impressive,” I mumbled.

“They’re good, but I’m with Lon. Dungeness crab all the way,” Adella said, waggling her eyebrows like Jupe always does.

“Why choose?” Jupe said with a slow shrug. “Gramma’s paying.”

The Giovanni matriarch smiled the sweetest smile at him and tousled his hair. “That’s right. You order whatever you want, baby. Now how are we getting there, Lon? You think we’ll fit in your SUV?”

“If we don’t, we’ll just tie Motormouth to the roof.”

“Oh, yeah! Dare me! I’ll do it,” Jupe said brightly. “You think we’d get arrested?”

“I think you’d get splattered in bugs,” Adella said. “You can sit on my lap.”

“No way! You’ll tickle me.”

And while they continued to argue about seating, piling into the SUV one by one, Rose patted me on the shoulder as she was going by. That’s when it really hit me: she was being genuine. Not judge-y. Not accusatory. Had I just been accepted? I glanced at Lon in disbelief as he helped her into the front passenger seat. What in the world had he told Rose to change her mind? He gave me a little wink, as if to say “told ya—I got this.”

It was all I could do not to break down and weep.

Two hours later, we were all slumped in our chairs, full and groaning. Cypress House put us on an enclosed outdoor patio twinkling with white lights. It overlooked the dark ocean and a winding, lit walkway leading to a cluster of Cypress trees growing on a bluff above the water. It was really nice, but casual, just as they said. And I was surprised how easy it was to feel comfortable around the Giovannis.

Imagine that.

I laughed at family stories. Jupe and I even told a few of our own. I felt like I was part of something. Like I was welcome, and things were going to be okay after all. It was pathetic, really, how much I craved their acceptance. Rationally, I knew if I was sprawled on some doctor’s couch, delving into the deep, dark workings of my brain, I’d come to the realization that this was because of my f*cked-up relationship with my f*cked-up parents. Of course it was. But knowing something and experiencing it were not the same.

Lon flashed me a small, approving smile when no one was paying attention. I think I might’ve actually sighed with happiness at that smile. And as the dinner progressed, that smile changed to something bolder. He gave me pornographic looks from across the table, heavy gaze sliding to my breasts, squished inside the too-tight shirt. One of those looks gave me goose bumps, and his oh-so-smug look told me he knew. It was kind of romantic for a moment, minus being surrounded by in-laws and Jupe merrily mutilating the steaming corpses of several crabs with his wooden mallet. Though he never managed the dozen spot prawns, he made up for it in crab, and now sat between Adella and me, bellyaching.

“I think I’m going to explode,” he moaned.

“Are you really?” Adella’s hair wasn’t tied back with a scarf tonight; the shape of her poofy mass of curls was exactly the same size as Jupe’s. She poked a finger into his ribs, making him jump in his seat.

“Don’t do it, Auntie,” he pleaded. “I might throw up.”

“He might do worse than that,” Lon said after swigging the last of a beer.

“It’s true,” Jupe admitted, stifling a soft belch. “Don’t say you weren’t warned.”

A commotion somewhere inside the restaurant dragged my attention to the patio door. It swung open, and a tall African-American woman strolled onto the patio with a protesting waiter in tow. Dark glossy hair cascaded around her bare shoulders, swaying with the flowing hem of her gold and black dress. Towering on clicking, spindly heels, she came to a stop in the middle of the patio and surveyed the room. After a moment, her long, regal face turned our way to reveal almond shaped brown eyes framed by miles of lashes, and flawless nutmeg skin.