Without a Hitch(49)
“No. No way.” I glance around, and all thought leaves my head. “What in God’s name are you wearing?”
My father stands proudly and twirls in a circle. The smile on his face is happier than my multicolored candy. “They’re coming back in style, my boy! Parachute pants. Aren’t they fun?”
“Parachute pants, circa MC Hammer?” Not only are they MC Hammer pants, but their abstract print gives me a headache.
“They match your Skittles.” Nova laughs under her breath.
“Dad, those are not back in style.”
“Yes, they are!” he says indignantly. “Nono, tell him! Tell him they’re on the runways in Paris.”
My mother gasps. “Oh my God! Are they?”
“I—I’m not sure.” Poor Nova can’t lie to save her life, and her face is beet red from the effort of holding in her laughter, so I do what I always do. I bail her out.
I laugh at my father with my mother. And ease my sister's guilt about hurting feelings by making it okay.
Ollie Blaine performs some sort of pirouette, joining in on our fun. He’s never taken himself too seriously, unlike me. He’s free and fun and offers joy everywhere he goes. I’m often envious of him.
What must it be like to live life so freely?
Looking around at my family, I shake my head. They’re all insane, but they’re all mine.
C HAPTE R 1 7
TILLY
Dannery/Cartwright Wedding
“C an you meet me in Boston on Friday?” Colton asks, and guilt has me sinking deeper into my couch. I’ll already be in Boston on Friday. I always planned to get my work for The Westbrook Group completed, but I hadn’t actually asked permission to work from another city when Phoebe Dannery hired me.
“She’ll already be in Boston hiding out from that sexy orgasm on a stick,” Mable shouts more loudly than necessary, almost like she wants Colton to hear her through the phone.
Yanking the phone off the coffee table, I take it off speaker and hiss toward the floorboards.
“Mind your own business, Mable. Why aren’t you at the senior center making cat eyes or whatever it is you do there?”
“Cat eyes is the reason I called in sick today. I’m sipping on my medicine now.”
“You shouldn’t drink so much,” I whisper-yell with my hand over my phone.
“Titty, when you get to be my age and lived what I’ve lived, you can drink whatever the hell you want.”
“Tilly?” Colton’s barely concealed laughter has me bringing the phone back to my ear.
“Ah, sorry about that.”
“Mable up to her old tricks?”
“I forgot you probably know her,” I grumble.
“Till, we’ve all lived in that building at one point or another, and Mable has lived there since before we were born.”
One of the benefits of working for my brother-in-law’s brother is getting set up with a really amazing apartment. They’re the only reason we can afford this four-bedroom condo so close to Uptown. And it’s a fantastic space. With two Jack and Jill bathrooms between the four bedrooms, and a spacious kitchen that opens to the family room, it’s truly a dream come true for us. They’re definitely taking a loss on the rent, but as Colton explained, it’s their prerogative as owners. As members of their family, even distantly by marriage, they wanted Eli and me in a safe building. It didn’t take long to convince us. Mable and all.
“She keeps things interesting,” I admit.
“So, you’ll be in Boston?”
“About that…”
“Tilly, if I’m not in the office, there’s no need for you to be. I’m confident you can get your work done anywhere. But as your family, I hope you’re letting someone know where you are when you’re traveling.”
“I am.” I feel like I’m being reprimanded, but that’s not Colton’s style. He’s sincerely only interested in making sure I’m safe. “I’m just going for, umm…”
“Your side-hustle you’re not ready to tell me about yet.”
An embarrassed sigh whooshes out of me. “I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be,” he interrupts. “I understand it’s important to you, Till. Just promise that when you’re ready, you’ll come to us. We can help or advise or simply tell you that you’re amazing, okay?”
I’m an asshole.
“Yeah, thanks, Colton. So, Boston?”
He explains what he’ll be doing there and asks for a favor—not as his employee, but as family.
He needs a babysitter for Friday night after our meeting. It’s a big ask and so out of character that I agree just so I can get a front-row seat to his personal life.
“I’ll see you Friday. Thanks again, Tilly.”
“No problem. Good luck,” I tell him honestly. Colton is a man misunderstood by so many. I hope he’s finally found his happy.
THE OLD NORTH CHURCH sits on a narrow street in Boston’s North End. The steeple is visible on the skyline like a magnet calling me closer. That it’s the Italian center of the city is evident as you walk down the cobblestone streets early in the morning, even on a Thursday. With windows open wide in nearly every building, you hear the rush of Italian grannies barking orders. Others talk to neighbors through the open windows. And even more are yelling just to be heard over the noise of it all.