FAMILY
Friends are the family you choose.
~ Anonymous
Willow
HAZEL ASKED IF I wanted to have dinner at home with everyone. I replied yes to her text. The next wave of texts were the Everhart boys agreeing on dropping by Grampa’s apartment. By then, I’d had enough time to go to my therapy appointment and chat with my agent who received two calls asking if I’d be interested in going to auditions. My show is bringing producers and casting directors knocking on my door. I had to be honest with Marie, my agent. My focus right now is my mental health and building my theater career. My ambition is to be in a Broadway play—that’s my current goal. Movies and other television shows aren’t on my current list of plans.
Marie understood. That’s one of the reasons why we are working together. She is ambitious, knowledgeable, and practical. Just as she works with the goals of her clients, if I ever decide to move to Los Angeles and change the course of my career, she will support me. Looking around my grandfather’s apartment, I can’t see why I’d want to leave the city. I’d never leave my grandfather and sister for something that doesn’t fulfill my profession or my ambitions.
The elevator chimes. When I turn around I see Hazel and Gramps chatting, then, stop when they see me.
“We can continue this conversation tomorrow. As you said, we aren’t bringing work home.” Gramps hugs me. “Were you out, too?”
“I had therapy and walked around the park while talking to Marie.”
“So much for your ‘I’m not working today,’ Wills.” Hazel kisses my cheek and loses her heels. “Much better. Hey, one of the apartments on the third floor is up for grabs.”
“Okay?” I glare at her, afraid she’s kicking me out. What happened to this is your home too, Willow?
“Remember Hunter mentioned he wants to move out of his parents’ apartment.”
I nod. Clearly, she ignored his brothers calling him names for wanting to move out. He called it a step to a grown-up Hunter. Harrison referred to it as a bunch of crap. Since we are still on a hiatus, I am not going to ask why he wants to move out or his future plans.
“Well, I was thinking he can buy the apartment downstairs.”
Gramps scratches his chin. “I was thinking about buying it as an investment.” Then he nods. “We have to move fast, talk to that boy, and find out his plans. If not, I’m putting in an offer tomorrow.”
I salute him as I watch him walking down the hall to his room. “Yes, sir.”
Pointing toward him, I look at Hazel. “What was that?”
“That would be Gramps wanting to buy a piece of property.” She snickers, letting out a squeal. “He’s like a little boy in a candy store. I love that man.”
“I’m going to take a quick shower and put on something comfortable.” Looking at her watch, then at me. “Fitz said they were ten minutes away; in case you want to change.”
She waves, and I rush to my room. I change into something more comfortable. Applying mascara and lipstick, I head to the living room where Fitz and Hunter are already standing.
“Hi,” I greet them.
Hunter smiles, walking toward me. He stops right in front of me. He’s so close I can feel the heat of his body. The amusing twitch of his mouth drags a chuckle out of me.
“Don’t move,” he orders, leaning closer to me, watching me. His mouth captures mine, and I feel like I’m losing my balance. I wrap my hands around his neck. He kisses me deeply. His strong arms press me tightly to him. I don’t want this to end. God, I’ve missed him so much, and it’s only been less than two days since the last time I saw him.
“Good evening, Hunter,” Grandpa greets him with a sharp voice.
“I said no hands,” I hiss releasing his neck.
He moves his fingers. “They never touched you.” The amusement on his face is contagious. I laugh, too. “How are you, gorgeous?”
“She’s doing well, ready to eat?” Harrison and Scott step out of the elevator.
Harrison looks over my shoulder and says, “Beesley, get the table ready and bring some drink. You better be as hungry as you said because I have plenty of food.”
We scatter around to set the table. I look puzzled at all the take-out boxes Harrison is setting on the table. Mexican Monday looks more like a big fiesta. My sister loves Mexican food: I think it’s because the family we grew up with is part Mexican. I think it’s okay, but I don’t love the food. I enjoyed their Irish dishes the most.
“Where did you get the food from?”
“Juanes,” Hazel reads out loud, then turns to look at Harrison. “You went to lower Manhattan just for me?”
“Don’t get all excited, Hazel. It’s just food,” Harrison says, opening the takeout boxes. “There are twenty tacos of each. Al Pastor, suadero, chorizo, chuleta, huitlacoche, lengua, chicharron, and carnitas.”
Looking up at Hazel he arches an eyebrow. “Did I miss something?”
“Quesadillas?”
“The cheese would’ve been hard by the time I arrived.”
“Are you planning on feeding the entire building, Harrison?” Gramps picks up one of the takeout containers to inspect it. “Why would you bring so many?”
“Because I’m his favorite person ever.” Hazel grabs a plate and takes two of each.
“No, I went there because you said, ‘they are the best tacos in all of Manhattan.’ I had to verify your findings.” Harrison grabs a few tacos, smothers them with salsa, squeezes a lime and takes one, studying it, as if this is art.
“It’s a taco,” I remind him, preparing myself a plate.
“Clearly, you and I have different ideas about tacos, Willow.” He shoots a glare to Hunter that says, is she for real?
Harrison takes a bite of one of the tacos he grabbed and starts moaning. “Mm yeah, they are good tacos. Almost Mexico City quality.”
Wiping the salsa dripping from the corner of his mouth, he looks at Hazel and grants her a smile. “You might’ve found the best place in Manhattan. I still have to take you to the best in the world.”
“That reminds me.” Scott pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. “I have work to do. Are we going to Mexico?” Then, he directs his attention to Hazel. “Is there a way you can jump into a couple of projects, sweetheart?”
She nods without looking at her schedule. “Give me until Thursday, and I’ll go to your office. Email me what you need me to do, though. I can start on it Wednesday night. Does that work?”
Scott responds with a simple yes.
Harrison’s head lifts, and he looks around the table. “Yes, about that trip. Can we schedule it for next year? I have to head back to work.”
“As in leaving?” Hazel’s voice lowers. “For a mission.”
He nods.
She sighs. “Just make sure they don’t kill you.”
“That’s always the plan. You’ll be fine, right?” He turns to look at me and then back at Hazel.
“Yeah?” Her brows draw out together.
“Going to visit your parents without me,” he explains, devouring yet another taco. “I will send you with a security detail.”
“Ah, nope. We don’t need babysitting,” Hazel says, grabbing more tacos and then looking at me. “Are we planning on traveling?”
She had said it was up to me. After talking to my therapist, I feel more confident in my decision to wait for now. My parents have the tools to reach out to us, and I personally want to see them trying to be a part of my life. I love them—they are my parents. But they have to understand our relationship has to be mutual.
I shake my head, lifting my tablet. “My schedule is tight. Maybe at a later date. Like next year, who knows when we will have time to take another trip together.”
“Labor Day weekend,” the four Everhart boys respond.
“Where are we going?” I ask putting away my tablet and eating a disgusting taco of cow tongue, but I hate to agree with Harrison and Hazel, it’s delicious.
Gramps takes on the conversation suggesting places we can go. We all have different opinions. International destinations are the choice of Scott and Fitz. Harrison just wants a few days away from the job. Hunter says he’ll do whatever the majority decides. I want to go somewhere quiet with gardens and a pool. Hazel insists on going surfing. Grandpa suggests we go to Lake Champlain in September, and we can choose a beach destination for Christmas break.
Once we all finish eating and clearing the table, we go to the media room to watch my show. Hunter hasn’t watched it yet, and no one else seems to mind the reruns.
“Sit with me.” Hunter’s lips caress the back of my neck.
“Hands, mouth, and thoughts to yourself, Mr. Everhart.”
“Your wish is my command.” He grins, a quick flash of pure Everhart-charm.