After coming out in a blaze of glory at the table, I spent the rest of the meal shaking like Jell-O in an earthquake. Brett shot me snide looks from across the table, Uncle Eric’s jaw tightened to the point of cracking teeth, and my mother let out a put-upon sigh every few minutes.

Thankfully, Prima asked the server to move dessert and coffee into the living room so we could cut the painful portion of the meal short.

It still took fucking forever.

Through it all, Saint was so calm and settled I wondered if he was raking a Zen sand garden in his mind. How the hell could he be so chill when I was about to vomit across the table from nerves? There’d been absolutely no fallout yet from my big announcement. I waited for the judgment from my mother and uncle, not to mention the awful teasing Brett was sure to do when he got me alone.

When we moved to the living room, I chose a small love seat next to the big gas fireplace. I remembered spending hours in front of the mesmerizing flames when I was fifteen and home from school for Christmas break. It had been so soothing to stare into the fire and daydream about another life, another time. That was the same winter I’d discovered my grandfather’s set of Agatha Christie’s mystery novels. I devoured as many as I could get my hands on and then watched the movies too.

“Want me to ask if they have chocolate syrup in the kitchen?” Saint murmured next to my ear. I looked up to see the same server from before pouring coffee. “I could mix it in and make a mocha?”

My heart nearly toppled out of my chest.

“I love you,” I whispered.

Saint’s eyes widened in surprise. He wasn’t the only one. That hadn’t been the way I’d imagined telling him.

“I’m sorry,” I spluttered.

“Why are you sorry, sweetheart?” His voice was still low enough that no one could hear what he was saying.

“I didn’t mean to tell you for the first time here… where I can’t… where…”

“Tell you what,” he said with a growing smile. The little twisted tooth grounded me and reminded me that he wasn’t some perfect untouchable model. He was real. “I’ll save mine until we’re somewhere by ourselves. Then we can do whatever it is you want to do right now but can’t.”

The look on his face made my heart stutter even worse. He was so sexy and so thoughtful. It was a lethal combination. “Yes. Good. Please. Yes.”

Saint pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.

“Shut up,” I mumbled. “The kitchen is through there. Go tell that woman you’ll do anything for chocolate.”

“Anything?” he asked with a raised brow.

He was so damned cute. Before I could growl a warning at him, I heard my sister’s laughter from the direction of the front door.

“We’re here!” she called.

“Who’s ‘we,’ darling?” Mother called out before catching sight of Saint making his escape toward the kitchen. “Tonight must be the night for uninvited guests.”

“Aurora and Kat,” Rory called back, rushing into the room in front of her girlfriend. “I, ah, figured since Augie was going to be here, I’d swing by and pick up—”

“Rory,” I said, interrupting. “I brought Saint. And, ah…”

“He told us he’s a fag,” Brett said. “Big surprise.”

Rory’s nostrils flared and she lurched toward our cousin with her claws extended. “You little—”

“Rory!” Kat caught her around her waist and kept her from attacking Brett.

“Let me go! He can’t say things like that. He can’t, Kat.”

“I know, dear. But I’d rather not have to visit you in jail. The optics on that would be terrible.”

“Aurora Stiel, sit down,” my mother insisted from her spot on a nearby arm chair. “We were just getting ready to discuss an important business matter with your brother.”

I noticed Saint race back into the room quickly, looking around to assess the situation. He must have heard the yelling.

“Katrina, Rory, nice to see you again,” he said when he didn’t detect a foreign invasion. He returned to the spot next to me and pulled a little white packet from his trouser pocket. Hot cocoa mix.

“Best I could do,” he said softly, handing it to me. “I have chocolate syrup at my apartment, so you can have a true mocha in the morning.”

I swallowed. He’d mentioned us staying over at his apartment downtown rather than driving back to Hobie, but I’d told him I usually stayed here at the house in my old room.

I kind of loved him mentioning his apartment again as if the decision was out of my hands. I’d begun to notice his bossiness usually centered on protecting me or giving me pleasure in bed, both of which I was absolutely on board with.

“Perfect,” I said. “Thank you.”

After accepting his own coffee from the server, Uncle Eric sat back in his chair. “August, we’d like your help convincing Dad to donate the building your shop is currently in to a charity project Brett and I have been working on. One of the foundation’s beneficiaries—”

“I know about CSP,” I said.

Eric looked surprised. “Oh, well, yes. CSP creates low-income housing which is—”

At this, Saint was the one who interrupted. “I’m going to stop you right there, Eric. There’s no way the powers that be in Hobie are going to let anyone put low-income housing right on the town square.”

“That’s as may be, but we’d like to give them a chance to try. Until we can get the property under their ownership, they can’t even attempt it.”

Saint sounded annoyed. “So you want Augie to find a new space, sign a lease with another location, and move everything out of his shop on the off chance Hobie’s town planners will approve a ridiculous plan for low-income housing on the square?”

Brett jumped in. “This is really none of your damned business. Do you even have a college degree? Because we’re talking about complex real estate investment deals and not how many steel plates you managed to bench-press at the gym.”

Saint took a breath to remain calm. The smile on his face was glacial and his voice was smooth as silk. “My father is the global director of Winstone Capital. He manages $500 billion dollars worth of ‘complex real estate investment deals’ all over the world and also had a hand in facilitating my grandfathers’ multimillion-dollar investment specifically into Hobie real estate. I’d say I have a passing knowledge of what we’re talking about here.”

Mr. Stiel chuckled from where he stood by the fireplace. “Brett, Saint here was a navy SEAL. Takes more than a big lung capacity to pass those tests. Stop being an ass.”

Rory moved around to give Grandfather a quick hug before leading him to a chair so he could sit. She proceeded to fix him a coffee and piece of cake from the tray on the side table.

I looked to my uncle. “Eric, why this particular piece of property? Why not look for something more affordable and appropriate to donate to CSP? Maybe even something in a location near the elementary school or the hospital?”

“We already own all three properties in question,” Eric explained.

“Not true,” Grandfather muttered. “The company owns one, I own one, and CSP owns one. Three different owners.”

“Yes, but my dad is in charge of the company’s assets,” Brett said, gesturing to Eric. “Grandfather, you can sign over the one you own, and CSP already has the third.”

I wondered if I should just agree. Was my current building worth fighting for? I loved it, but shouldn’t I love my family more? Why not just step away, move my shop, and be done with this whole family conflict?

But did I love my family enough to support such a massive fraud on the taxpayers of Hobie? Could I abide a quasi-charity taking a donation from my family foundation and using it to take advantage of tax loopholes? The answer was no.

“Why in the world would I support the efforts of a fraudulent nonprofit?” I asked Eric. “And why, specifically, do you want our family foundation to support this particular charity with such a high-value donation?”

“Dammit, Augie, we don’t have to explain this shit to you. You’re a tenant for Christ’s sake,” Brett said. “We just need you to convince Grandfather you’re willing to move your shop.”

Saint sat still next to me with his hands clasped together in his lap. I wanted to ask him what I should do or simply lay my head on his shoulder and have him take over for me. I was tired of being the odd man out in my family. I hated making important decisions on my own. Moreover, I’d always disliked being in charge of anything.

But I also hated being bullied by anyone, especially my own family.

“I’m not willing to move my shop.” There, I’d said it.

Everyone stared at me, presumably trying to work out how quickly I’d cave under pressure.

“But darling,” Mother said. “Think of all the people who would be helped by this project.”

“What people?” Saint asked. “Hobie’s poverty rate is less than 8 percent. That’s unheard of in rural Texas. It’s an affluent town because of the lake property, whereas the people who need low-income housing live in nearby Valley Cross. Why not do this project there? I’ll tell you why—there’s no low-income housing project. It’s a sham.”

Eric chimed in. “Hardly. Besides, we don’t determine the best places. CSP does that. We’re just the benefactors.”

“Why is this particular project so important?” I asked. I wanted to hear them say it.

Eric clenched his teeth and looked away. Brett took over.

“Look, Augie. We made a commitment to this nonprofit to assist them in putting together this package. How does it look to the nonprofit community if we fail to deliver on that commitment?”

“Why this building in particular?”

“Because CSP’s plan involves combining all three lots for their housing project,” Brett explained.

“So they plan to raze the Depot?” I asked incredulously. Jen’s shop was in the town’s original train station. The charm was half of what made Apple Dots so special. “That’s even older than the Huddler building.” My shop’s building had been originally built by Cletus Huddler to house his construction business in Hobie. I even had two of the original drafting tables left from the original business assets in the third-floor storage space.

The warmth of Saint’s body came through the leg of my pants as he moved a little closer to me.

“The Depot?” Grandfather asked in surprise. “Eric, you didn’t tell me they planned to tear down that historic station.”

“They don’t even provide low-income housing,” I snapped. “They’re a sham. They’re a front for a commercial developer. Did you know that?”

“That’s not true, son,” Eric stated immediately. “I don’t know what information you think you have, but CSP is a registered nonprofit that specializes in low-income housing.”

“That’s what they say,” Saint added. “But their actual property transactions show a full history of putting together commercial development packages for strip malls. Eight of their last ten projects included a Health Plus drug store, a Ship and Save mailing center, and a Starbucks.”

“What?” My mother suddenly looked confused. “Is that true?”

“Dammit, Eric!” Grandfather barked. “What the hell are you thinking?”

“Dad, it’s a multimillion-dollar property deal. It’s a low-income housing project to help those in need, and we need the Huddler building to make it happen. Augie, I’m ashamed of you. Since when are you so goddamned selfish?”

I sat there with my mouth open, but Saint didn’t have the same problem.

“How dare you call him selfish,” Saint boomed, standing up from his seat. “Do you have any idea the lengths this man has gone to in order to accommodate this family? You say jump, he asks how high. You say don’t be gay, he keeps his whole life in shadow. You say dinner’s on, he drops everything to get here for it just to find out it’s canceled and no one bothered to say. He lost his father!” He looked at Rory. “They both did. They lost their father, and you all told them to stop fucking crying. Who does that?”

He turned to me with utter anguish in his eyes. “Augie, we’re leaving. I can’t let you stay here a minute longer. I can’t.”

I stood up and took his hand, turning to my grandfather with an apologetic look. “Thank you for dinner.” I turned to Aunt Prima. “Happy Birthday.” And finally to my mother. “Goodnight, Mother.”

Then I followed Saint to where Rory sat next to Kat and gave them each a hug after Saint dropped a kiss on each of their cheeks.

My sister whispered hoarsely in my ear. “Tie him down if you have to, brother of mine. That man’s a keeper.”

She had no idea.