Lovers Like Us (Like Us #2)(123)

Fuck. I groan against his lips, and he smiles against mine.

Someone clears their throat. Behind us.

Great.

I pull back, but I play as cool as I fucking can and stand straight. This is my townhouse. I live here. We kissed. He grabbed my ass. On the PDA scale, this is minor level.

Farrow rests his shoulders on the wood. A lot more naturally at ease than me. But that’s normal.

Who saw us?

My dad.

He stands in the doorway, light rain pelting the street behind him. A box labeled Luna from Thebula is in his arms, biceps cut and features sharp-edged. His brows are cinched like he’s slowly processing something. Maybe that Farrow and I are really a couple. Or maybe he’s just stunned to see me with anyone.

He looks good though. Healthy, not edged or antsy.

He opens his mouth to speak, but voices escalate behind him. We all listen, but from where I stand, I can’t see anyone.

“If I go in there it’s going to be real,” my mom says. “Maybe we should all have breakfast first. Anyone hungry? I could eat a waffle. Daisy?”

“Chocolate pancakes,” my aunt says.

“She’s not moving to fucking New York or across the country,” Uncle Ryke retorts. “It’s nothing to fucking agonize over.”

“Easy for you to say,” my mom replies. “Sulli wants to live at home for another year. My daughter is leaving. OhmyGod, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry this fast. I’m already crying. Rose—”

“Chin up, shoulders back,” Aunt Rose snaps icily. “What our gremlins don’t know is that they’re ours forever. No matter what geographical location they run off to and whether they like it or not.”

My dad swings his head back and calls out to my aunt, “Take your talons off my kids, Cruella.”

“Bite me, Loren.”

“Weak,” my dad retorts.

Farrow almost laughs, and I smile. God, I love my family

“They’re all going to leave,” Uncle Connor pipes in. “It’s generally what children do when they get older.”

“And now she’s really crying. Good job, Richard,” Aunt Rose says.

“No, no,” my mom protests. “These are happy tears. Luna is grown up. That’s a good thing.”

My dad glances at me, then Farrow, and I stand more uncomfortably. I can’t tell what my dad is thinking. At all.

When it reaches the point of maximum awkwardness, my dad rotates to the door again. “If you all keep lingering, we’re never going to finish moving her in!”

One-by-one, my mom, two aunts, and two uncles file into the townhouse. Rain jackets on, and some shut their umbrellas.

This is the first time we’ve all really been together since Camp Calloway. In the same room, at least. But we’ve talked. All of us. I’m not going to pretend those conversations never happened just because they didn’t take place altogether.

Anyway, kissing Farrow at the Camp-Away event feels like eons ago.

I feel different since then. Stronger in a different way. Maybe that’s what happens when you meet quicksand and discover how to pull yourself out.

I break the silence before they do. “Can we not make this awkward?” I ask. “You all know Farrow. He’s my boyfriend. That’s not changing.”

“I don’t actually know him as your boyfriend,” Connor says as he hooks his expensive umbrella on the coat rack. His all-knowing eyes meet Farrow’s. “But I’d love to change that.”

“Agreed.” Ryke nods and then turns to my dad. “I’m sensing a fucking invitation here?”

And my dad—he’s smiling. Genuine, and happy. It lifts the last bit of weight off my chest. “I think so, big brother.” He looks to my boyfriend. “How about you start coming to our lunches with Moffy?”

My eyes widen. Seriously. That’s what they want? To grill Farrow over tacos and salsa? “You can say no,” I tell Farrow. “They’re a lot to fucking handle.”

“I can handle anything, wolf scout,” Farrow says easily, and with a smile, he tells my dad, “Sounds like a plan.”

My dad nods and adjusts his grip on the box.

“And,” Connor adds to Farrow, “if we decide we don’t like your company, your invitation is revoked.”

“That’s not happening,” I say firmly.

Farrow hangs his head, his smile out of this fucking world right now, and he tries to downplay it a bit.

A calico cat rubs up on my dad’s ankles. He tells me, “If Farrow is shitty company, it’ll go to a vote.”

I shake my head. “After my week, voting is permanently banned.”

My dad winces. “You know I could—”

“No,” I cut him off. “We talked about this.” None of them are vouching on my behalf like I’m a kid. “It’s my job. I’ll take care of it.”

My dad squints at me. “It’s like you’re an eighty-year-old man in a twenty-two-year-old body.” He looks to my mom who bites her thumbnail, nervous about Luna leaving. “Love, you sure you birthed him?”

“I remember every second of it, Lo.” She pauses. “Okay, not every second. But most of it.”

My mouth curves upward. This right here. Us. It feels like we’re back on some sort of track. Sure, there’ll be blips and drama and some fights, but my family isn’t going anywhere. Any world where they’re missing is too lonely to conceive.