Page 32

“I could’ve driven,” Brayden grumbled as the car slushed down the damp streets of downtown Scarborough.

In the front seat, their driver, Geoff, didn’t comment.

Flip felt no such compunction to hold his tongue.

“Yes, you could have,” he agreed, “except someone asserted that he didn’t want special driving privileges.

He wanted to go through the same licensing process as anyone else, and so someone only has a learner’s permit.

And there’s no reciprocity agreement for learner’s permits. ”

Brayden sighed, long-suffering, because all Cedric’s etiquette lessons went to hell when Brayden wasn’t in the public eye. Thank God. “It would’ve been so cool to show up driving James Bond’s sugar daddy’s car.”

In truth, Flip suspected Brayden was putting on a show to distract him.

He’d drunk too much coffee on their flight and now he felt ready to vibrate out of his own skin, just in time to meet Brayden’s extended family, which apparently included fourteen cousins and cousins-in-law and ten cousins once removed.

Flip wasn’t nervous per se. But—

“Flip.” Brayden brought his hand down to rest gently on Flip’s knee, stilling the reflexive jiggle.

Okay, he was a little bit nervous. “Are you sure there’s no diplomatic crisis I shouldn’t be attending to?”

“There might be one here, if Brian eats all the rolls again.”

Geoff stopped the car and got out to open the door for Brayden, who waited outside while Flip dragged himself out of the back seat.

“Thanks, Geoff,” Brayden said to the driver. “See you at eight thirty?”

“I’ll be here with bells on.” Geoff nodded to Flip. “Your Highness.”

He got back in the car and drove off, but despite the prewinter chill in the air, Brayden didn’t usher Flip inside right away. He slid his hand into Flip’s and squeezed his fingers.

He was right—Flip was being silly. Everything would be fine. And anyway…. “They’ll be calling you that before long.”

“Sap,” Brayden accused fondly and turned his face up for a kiss.

Inside, the restaurant’s private dining room looked much as Flip had imagined it—wood-paneled walls, tiled floor, two long tables set with plain plates and cutlery, a Christmas tree set up at one end.

Over the cacophony of half a dozen children playing and twice as many adults conversing, no one noticed them enter, so Flip had several seconds to gather his bearings.

This was a family, he reminded himself, not unlike his own, and not unlike Brayden himself. Just on a larger scale. Flip loved Brayden, and these people also, presumably, loved Brayden, so they already had something in common. And—

“Brayden! You made it!”

Brayden let go of Flip’s hand as Lina vaulted into his arms and sent him staggering back a few steps. “Hey, sis.”

“ Hey, sis ,” she echoed. “I thought you weren’t going to be able to make it. You said you had a conference in London or something.”

Brayden put her down and glanced at Flip, the corners of his mouth turning up to match the smile in his eyes. “Yeah, but it sucked, so Flip got us on a last-minute flight.”

For the first time, Lina tore her eyes away from Brayden and looked at Flip. Other family members were coming over too, waiting their turn to say hello, and Flip reached for the manners his teachers had instilled in him from a young age—

And almost cursed out loud when Brayden stepped on his foot.

Right. This was family.

Lina sized him up. Flip had met their parents over their March break and again in the summer, when they were off work, but Lina hadn’t been able to get time off. He extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Lina flung her arms around his neck. Somewhat bemused, Flip cast a glance at Brayden, who just lifted a shoulder. Eventually he managed to hug her back. “ Hi . Welcome to the family.”

Flip’s throat went suddenly thick, and he looked at Brayden again, half-panicked.

This time he intervened. “All right, we all appreciate that Flip’s willing to put up with me on a daily basis, but maybe you could let him breathe a little? He’s turning blue.”

The rest of the family came up to make their introductions.

Brayden stood by Flip’s side the whole time, offering a running commentary no one seemed to think was the slightest bit strange.

The names got a little meaningless halfway through the cousins, until Brayden introduced Seana and Brian and something twigged in his brain.

“Is he the one who brought the live lobsters, or the vegan?” Flip asked, sotto voce.

“The lobsters,” Brayden said, rolling his eyes as Brian flushed. Seana swatted his arm. “And Julie’s the one who opened them—she’s the vegan.”

“My reputation precedes me,” Brian said and shook Flip’s hand firmly. “Good meetin’ ya.”

“Likewise.” Flip leaned in. “I don’t suppose you brought lobsters this year?”

The gift exchange—a chaotic swap whose objective seemed to be stealing whichever present made the most people squawk—didn’t happen until after dinner, when Flip was pleasantly full and coming down from his caffeine buzz.

He and Brayden hadn’t had time to purchase gifts, which suited Flip fine because he was going to need a year to study the strategy of white-elephant exchanges.

Instead they sat back at the table and watched the madness unfold.

And then, when all the presents had been opened and the wrapping paper collected for recycling, Brayden tugged Flip to his feet.

“I know you’re probably all disappointed we didn’t participate in the gift exchange this year, because who doesn’t want the chance to steal something from under a prince’s nose”—Flip rolled his eyes on cue—“but I think we brought something almost as good.”

Flip reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a number of small envelopes and passed them to Brayden, who took out several of his own. “These were going to go in the mail,” Flip said, “but we thought it might be nice to hand them out in person.”

He had just turned to hand an envelope to Brayden’s grandmother when Brayden added, “I hope you’re all free the second week of July?”

For a moment you could have heard a pin drop. And then chaos broke loose. Someone shouted, “You set a date ?” so high-pitched Flip assumed it had to be Lina, but when he looked it turned out to be Brayden’s dad, wide-eyed and grinning.

As the friendly horde descended for another round of hugs, Brayden’s grandmother put her hand on his arm.

“Congratulations,” she said warmly, holding her wedding invitation close to her chest. Then she leaned into him and raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

“Maybe let Brayden lead the dancing this time.”