back onto her bed, the squeak not quite as loud as it was covered up by the horrified groan crawling up her throat. She reread the text, hoping that it might change. Maybe Marie was bringing her youngest son, Dylan. Or one of the other boys. Or, yes, maybe she'd bring Casey.
Nope. Still that same pesky T name.
The third of Casey's four older brothers. The lawyer. The recently single, insanely hot, not even remotely fun, ridiculously inconvenient star of all her very inappropriate dreams as of late.
And now he'd be there tonight, when her sanity was already hanging by a thread, wearing a tuxedo and being all Tate-like.
Awesome. Fricken great.
Chapter Two
"Mom, I ... I just can't."
Silence. The oppressive silence that only a mother can achieve practically vibrated through the phone. Tate slumped back in his brown leather desk chair, wondering if he could wait this out. Five seconds ticked by.
She won. Of course.
He rubbed his forehead. "Why can't Dad go again?"
"He's sick. He has a really bad cold, and I don't need him hacking over everyone sitting at our table."
"Hmm. And I'm the only one who can go with you?" Please say no.
"You are, my favorite third born. We paid for the plate, so it makes no sense to waste it. How come you don't want to go?"
Because there was absolutely no way he could answer that question honestly, he did what any good lawyer would do. He lied, straight through his teeth.
"No particular reason, just a really busy day. And even though I've still got four months left on my lease with Jake, I want to start looking at houses."
Tate had rented a newly-renovated duplex from Jake Miller, his sister Casey's landlord/boyfriend. When Tate had broken off his engagement with Natalie, he'd been at a little bit of a loss. Asking Jake for a short term lease seemed like the best temporary option. It was nice to have a place to stay, and being close to Casey was a bonus, though maybe not for her. He'd only caught her sneaking back into her place once when he was on his way out of the door for work early one weekday. She'd given him a narrow-eyed look when he wagged his finger at her through his car window, but the bright red blotches on her cheeks made him chuckle, because she knew she was caught.
Most nights after work, he still felt like he didn't know what to do with himself. What did Tate Steadman do with his free time? Five years of his life in a relationship that had been comfortable at best, manipulative and confining at worst. Natalie had taken up all of his time outside of work, and she'd done it so quietly and masterfully that Tate had barely even noticed. Every night he distinctly felt the novelty of being able to sit and read a new James Patterson book or watch the entire Jason Bourne trilogy, or basically do whatever the hell he felt like.
Just being able to say 'hell' if he wanted to. It might be childish, but there was still a pulse of rebellion in him left over from his years with Natalie that made him want to sit on the couch all night, wearing only his boxers, drinking beer out of a can, and watching Sports Center for four straight hours, not caring in the slightest that he'd see the same headlines over and over and over.
"You always were the one who planned ahead the farthest, but Tate? The houses will be there tomorrow night, just waiting for you to discover them."
He snapped out of his Sports Center fantasy, and let his head fall back against the chair.
"I know they will."
"So? What's the issue?" The silence became weighted again, and Tate fixed his stare across the cream colored walls of his office to the framed family picture from last summer. He was thankful now that his mom had a 'spouse only' rule when it came to family photos. He'd hated it if he'd had to remove that picture because Natalie had been sitting with the rest of them on the beach of Lake Michigan. His mom was actually the first to cave during this stretch. She spoke softly, consolingly. "Tate, I'd really appreciate it if you'd come with me. Please."
He smiled, grudgingly, but he felt the tug of his lips. His mom could have written the book on delivering the please in a way that no one was immune to.