“Wha’?” He goggled, siu mai poised in front of his open mouth. Then he dropped it and shook his head. “I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”
“But you said, ‘the only one of the three of us who has a boyfriend.’” Dalton returned his brother’s earlier innocent voice and evil smile with his own versions.
“Ha,” Luke muttered. “Funny.”
Regardless, it distracted Andy. For a while.
“I’ll see you tonight,” she said when she kissed his cheek outside the restaurant as they were parting. “And Tierney too, I hear.”
“You will?” Had Ian told her—
“At the club. Sam invited me.”
Clearly the evil grin coupled with the innocent tone was in their DNA.
As soon as he got to his parents that evening, Tierney peeked into the formal dining room and groaned under his breath at all its crystal, silver-plate, and bone-china glory. The scene for the traditional Terrebonne family Thanksgiving was set. Awesome. But after trudging to the sitting room, he found it dark and deserted. Agatha hadn’t said anything about them gathering someplace different when she answered the door, just pinched his cheeks and gushed.
“Huh.”
“Darling, there you are,” Mother called from behind him. When he turned, she was walking down the hall in the opposite direction, and saying over her shoulder, “I’m just going to check on the progress of dinner. Why don’t you join everyone in the family room?”
“Sure.” He nodded, watching her disappear around a corner. Weird. She’d normally be all over him, greeting him “properly” and telling him everything he was doing wrong.
“We have sparkling cider!” Sophie, his youngest niece, announced as soon as Tierney walked in and said hello. Father and Chase were standing by the grand piano, chatting, and Emily was over by the bar.
“Sweet.” He held out his palm to her. “High five, small one.”
She hugged his legs instead, which made him glow just a little inside. He didn’t see her or her sister enough, did he?
“Hello, Uncle Tierney,” Claire, his other niece, said then, sounding too proper for an eight-year-old. “Sophie and I are eating in the kitchen.” She beamed, because she knew that meant they got all the treats Agatha had stashed away for them, and wouldn’t have to eat anything yucky, like Brussels sprouts. So, not so proper.
“Cool,” he nodded gravely. “You think if I start wearing dresses and playing with dolls, they’ll let me eat in the kitchen with Agatha next year?”
“No. Sheesh.” She rolled her eyes and went back to brushing her naked doll’s hair. Well, naked except for all the “tattoos” she’d drawn on it over the years. Mother hated that thing.
Emily wandered up. “So, sparkling cider, tea, or mineral water?”
“Those are the nonalcoholic choices?”
She leaned closer to say quietly, “Those are the only choices. Everyone’s on the wagon this year.”
“Whose idea was that?”
“Your father’s, believe it or not.”
“Bet Mother hates it.”
Emily raised her brows. “Yeah, she’s gone to ‘check on the progress of dinner’ every ten minutes since we got here.”
“Gotcha. So, while everyone else is teetotaling it, she’s in the pantry chugging champagne.”
Emily pursed her lips, but he couldn’t tell whether it was a sign of disapproval or a way to suppress her amusement.
“Hello, son,” Father called, and within seconds, coerced Tierney into walking across the room and joining him and Chase. They were talking business, of course. “How likely is Diablo to look favorably on a bid from us?” he asked as soon as Tierney was within a couple of feet of them.
Did they really have to discuss work now? “So, where are the aunties?” Grandfather’s sisters were always here for holidays, since they had no other family. Those two were very traditional old-maid types, who drank copious amounts of sherry, and who Tierney suspected of wearing corsets and storing scented hankies in their cleavage. He’d never had the balls to ask about either of those things, though, not even when he was drunk. Well, not that he could remember.
“They aren’t coming this year,” Chase said, expression blank.
“They aren’t? What’re they gonna do, eat at the retirement home with the other lonely old goats?” Maybe they’d been unable to face a turkey without sherry.
Father cleared his throat. “They feel our branch of the family has impinged upon their honor.”
“Our branch of the family? We’re the whole trunk. They’re, like, twigs. Barren twigs.”
Behind him, he could hear Emily stifle a laugh, and he totally caught his brother smirking into his sparkling cider. Of course, then Chase had to be a dick. “They weren’t very impressed by your toast at the wake.”
“Oh.” Tierney nodded, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks and rocking back on his heels. “I get it—I impinged on the family honor, so they won’t show since I’m here.” He snorted, adding in a mutter, “You should all thank me.”
“Tierney,” Father said. The tone was unclear, though; was he angry or tired? Or grateful?
Either way, it probably meant Tierney was supposed to shut up. Right. “Was it the gay thing?” He looked at his father in exaggerated interest. “Or maybe calling him a motherf—”
“Time for the girls to go into the kitchen,” Emily interjected. “I’ll check on Hyacinth while I’m there.”
The three of them stood silently, eyeing each other until the door latched behind the girls and Chase said, “You’re such a dumb-shit.”
He’d heard those words before from the horse’s ass, but they still made him sway with their force. “Thanks.”
“Chase,” Father said in that same ambiguous voice that he’d used on Tierney.
“I heard about that meeting, you know. The one last week. Jerry Brown told me.”
“Golf-playing prick,” Tierney said under his breath. Jerry and Chase had a standing tee time.
“What meeting?” Father tried to butt in.
Chase ignored him, staring at Tierney. “He said it was pretty rough.”
That would almost sound like sympathy if not for the sneer. “It was.”
Chase leaned closer, getting in Tierney’s face. “It’s your own fucking fault. You were practically begging to be treated like that, the way you came out.”