If I thought Ollie’s immediate family was intense, it’s nothing compared to the distant relatives. Their family tree is made up of the most eclectic group of people I’ve ever met.

His parents both have Swedish and other European genes but sound like they’ve lived in Boston their whole lives. Ollie’s aunt on his dad’s side married a Puerto Rican, and so their three boys with their dark hair and olive skin stand out in the crowd of blond Strömbergs. And what the hell is up with them all being boys? Eight cousins, all boys. It’s freaky. At least everyone on that side of the family is slightly shorter than the giants that are the Strömberg brothers. I don’t feel as vertically challenged around them. Though, they are still all taller than me.

Then there are the wives and girlfriends—like the family needs their own WAGs club. There’s about six nieces and nephews between the cousins, they’re under five, and I’m not quite sure where or who they belong to.

I stand in the corner of the backyard watching, just hoping I don’t get mowed over.

Yup. Hiding from the kids. Let’s go with that lie.

“Did you say this was a party for your mom’s mom? Why’s your dad’s sister and her kids here?” I ask Ollie.

“We’re all super close.” He wraps his arm around me.

I stare across the yard at the different couples and then at Ollie who hasn’t even flinched about the whole PDA thing. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“So, everyone here knows? About you?”

Ollie’s eyes track my gaze to his arm around me and back again. “Yeah, my entire family knows. Each time someone introduces a new girlfriend or whatever, it’s kinda not mentioned or talked about, but I trust everyone here. I’m not kidding when I say we’re close. We’re one of those sickeningly big happy families.”

“You sound like a pod person.”

Ollie leans in and in a high-pitched voice sings, “Come join us.” He sounds like that little girl from the freaky old movie Poltergeist. “It’s super fun.”

I shiver. “Creepy.”

“It’s not nice to call your boyfriend creepy.”

“Oh, sorry. You’re super pretty for a creepy guy.”

“Better. Although I don’t know what being pretty will do to my badass rep.”

“Aww, honey, you’re not badass unless you’re an enforcer, and you skate away from fights on the ice.”

A gasp comes from the side door of the house. “Did I hear you say Ollie should become an enforcer?” his mom screeches.

“Oh boy, you’re in trouble now.” Ollie takes a sip of his beer.

“Did you just call me boy?”

Ollie shoots beer out his nose and coughs. “No.” Cough. “I said oh boy. Like uh-oh.” More coughing.

Aww, my spluttering giant. I’ve missed his awkward side.

His mom finally catches up to us. “Ollie cannot become an enforcer. He has way too much talent and is way too pretty to get messed up.”

“There’s that fuckin’ pretty word again. I’m not pretty. I’m wicked badass.”

“Of course, you are, baby.” I pat his cheek.

Even though I’m being condescending, he has this weird smile on his face as if I just told him he’s won the Hottest Man on Earth competition. Which, in all fairness, if it was a thing, he could totally win.

He puts his arm over my shoulder and kind of leans on me, while he moves in and kisses the side of my head.

“What was that for?” I ask.

“If I’m pretty, you’re cute.”

“I have no problem with being cute.”

Ollie’s mom butts in once again. “I think you’re both cute, but stop hiding over here.”

She loops her arm with mine, taking me away from Ollie, while his brother Leo calls out and intercepts him from following us.

Mrs. Strömberg leans in. “I’m going to be honest with you.”

“Uh-oh.”

She smiles. “It’s not bad, hon. I just wanted to say that I didn’t think you and Ollie were right for each other.”

Ouch. My face must give away the hurt—the thing that’s always been in the back of my mind since meeting Ollie. A jock like him wouldn’t go for a nerd like me.

Her hand squeezes my arm. “By the look on your face, that’s not what you wanted to hear.”

No shit.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way, and you need to let me finish, okay?”

Sure, sugarcoating you’re not good enough for my son couldn’t possibly be taken in a bad way.

“That day we met you, I thought the pairing was … odd.” She stops walking in the middle of the backyard with the action still going on around us, and even though no one’s paying attention, I become self-conscious.

I play with the collar of my shirt.

“Oh, geez, you’re an impatient one, aren’t ya? I’m trying to say I was wrong.”

My gaze snaps in her direction.

“You make him happy. It doesn’t matter if you’re some corporate hotshot, which is so not Ollie’s thing, or you’re a little on the cute and innocent side.” Her gaze turns toward her youngest son. “I haven’t seen him smile like that in a long while. Not even while he was with Ash.”

Guilt gnaws at me. I’m not corporate, I’m not Ollie’s boyfriend, and I’m not even sure he’s smiling that way because of me.

I try to fake my reaction and think how a normal boyfriend would react to acceptance by his partner’s mother, but I think my smile is as tight as my throat, which feels like it’s closing up.

“Ah … and about Ash.” She’s the one avoiding eye contact now.

“I don’t need to know about Ollie’s past.” Especially if Ash is everything I’m not.

“And I wouldn’t normally make you hear it …”

A loud cough that sounds a hell of a lot like “Bullshit” comes from the nearby table where Ollie’s brother Vic must be eavesdropping.

Ollie’s mom ignores him. “The only reason I’m bringing up Ash is, well, he’s basically part of this family. He’s here for all the important events, and being with Ollie, you’re gonna have to meet him eventually.”

Is she saying … I grunt. “Does Ollie know he’s coming?”

Am I a complete idiot here? Here I am thinking he’s using any excuse to get close to me—even asking me to fake it for his entire family—but what if he didn’t ask me here for me? Or for him. Am I here to make his ex jealous?

“I doubt anyone has told him—nobody wants to be the messenger—but I’m sure he’d suspect. I just thought I’d give you a heads-up.”

“Do I need a heads-up?” I don’t know if anticipating meeting Ollie’s ex is a good thing or a bad thing.

I’m definitely at high risk of overthinking it.

“Ma,” Ollie scolds. I don’t know how long he’s been behind us. “Stop scaring him off.” His arm comes around me again, but now I can’t stop the internal questions.

I stupidly thought going into this that Ollie might be milking this charade for all it’s worth and maybe using it as an excuse to continue fooling around or whatever. Wishful thinking, obviously.

What if he’s like every other jock I’ve wanted?

What if he’s using me to remind Ash that he let the best guy in the world go and he hopes to somehow win him back?

Okay, yup. Definitely overthinking this.

“You okay?” Ollie asks.

I force a fake smile. “Thirsty.”

Ollie yells as he pulls me through the throng of kids and people toward the ice bucket near the back door. “Out of our way. Thirsty boyfriend needs a drink.”

I shake my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe, but I think you like it.”

I can’t help a genuine smile breaking through, because yeah. I really do. I should stop analyzing and enjoy this … whatever the fuck it is.

“So, what’d she say to make you go pasty white?” He hands me a bottle of water. “Wait, you want something else? There’s beer, tonic—”

“Taw-nic.” I chuckle. “So cute.”

“You’re in Beantown now, Clark.”

“Water’s fine. If your ex is gonna show up, I don’t really wanna drink anything harder.”

“Ash is coming?”

Is he faking surprise or did he genuinely not know?

“Your mom said he was. Wanted to warn me. Apparently, I’m the only one with the balls to tell you though.” My joke is as flat as the line between Ollie’s pursed lips.

“I thought he wasn’t going to come. I mean, I knew there was a chance, but Max blew off family dinner last night, and I assumed he was going to do the same today, so there’s no real reason why Ash would come without him.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” I ask quietly.

“Before I moved to New York. Before that, it was a handful of times since we’d broken up.” Something about the way he stares at the ground, as if wanting to hide his expressive face away from me, makes me step forward.

I put my finger under his chin and gently pull it up so he’s looking into my eyes. “You truly didn’t know he was coming?” Because right now, I don’t know if he’s a really good liar or being truthful. His words are believable, but his body language pings my bullshit radar. Granted, that radar has proven broken in the past.

He looks away with guilt written all over his face.

“Is he why I’m actually here?” The growl in my voice is involuntary.

“What? No. You’re here because I want you here.” Ollie steps closer. “You’re here because I used the excuse of not handling my family to get you here even though I know how to deal with them. I’ve had years of deflecting.”

“So … you asked me to come because …”

He sighs. “Technicalities, Lennon.”

Lennon. Not Clark.

“I need an excuse to do this.” His fingers trail my cheek, down my neck, and then move behind my head, causing me to shiver. “And this,” he whispers, leaning in and kissing my cheek where his fingers just were. His mouth makes the same journey his hand did but stops at the base of my neck, just at the top of my shoulder.

A throat clears behind us.

Ollie slumps and murmurs into my neck. “Of course.”

When he steps away, his playful mood is gone, and his arms stiffen around me.

His brother Max stands a few feet away with a guy I can only assume is Ash, if his avoiding eye contact with either of us is any indication.

And Mr. Toppy? A skinny, punk-looking guy who’s shorter and thinner than I am. Long dark hair on top of shaved sides, giant ear gauge on his right ear, neck tattoos, but surprisingly only one inked sleeve.

Not only is he the complete opposite of me but also the complete opposite of what I was imagining.

I don’t know why, but I thought Ollie’s ex would be another sporting type, like most of his brothers. Doesn’t make much sense when the odd brother is best friends with the ex.

We stand there in a four-way standoff. Max glaring at us, Ollie tense and getting flustered as his mouth opens and shuts, me checking out the ex, and Ash looking like he wants to be anywhere but here.

Fun times.

Ash raises his hand to run it through his thick hair, and that’s when I see it. The lone tattoo on his left arm. Mi Vida. The same script, same size as the tattoo on Ollie’s chest.

My life.

I looked it up in a moment of weakness after that night in Ollie’s hotel room.

The doubt Ollie obliterated not two minutes ago is back, even though this technically changes nothing. I knew he and Ash were serious. You can’t have a relationship for four years and not be serious. But matching tattoos? That’s practically the same as a wedding band. No, it’s actually worse. Wedding bands can come off.

I try to tell myself that maybe the matching tattoos have nothing to do with their relationship at all. Max and Ash are tattoo artists. Maybe it was practice.

Then I remember the way Ollie stiffened when I ran my hand over that tattoo in particular. I don’t know if I can handle such a permanent reminder of his ex right there on his chest.

“They’ve been staring at each other for like five minutes,” someone whispers off to our side. I’m not surprised to find Vic and Nic standing there watching us.

Ollie breaks first and forces a smile. “Max.” He lifts his chin toward his ex. “Ash. This is …” He stammers, and I can practically see his mind drawing a blank.

Clark. Say Clark.

“Clark,” he finally gets out.

And now we’re faced with a game of chicken—who’s gonna reach for each other’s hand first. Turns out Ollie’s ex is the bigger person.

“Good to meet you.” His voice is soft while his handshake is strong.

I nod, because if I lie and say it’s good to meet him too, they’re all gonna know I’m full of shit.

“Have you seen Grandma yet?” Ollie asks Max.

Max is still seething quietly, and I realize he and Ollie have the same I hope you choke on air death glare.

“We were going that way now.” Ash tries to pull Max away, but Max doesn’t budge.

Talk about a sense of not belonging. I have nerdy glasses, no tattoos, and am dressed in a sweater and chinos. That versus the three tatted-up guys surrounding me feels like a game of spot the odd one out—grade school level.

Ash appears calmer and more put together than Max, which is weird. Shouldn’t Ash be the one sulking and glaring?

It’s Ollie’s turn to stand awkwardly, and now, as I glance out into the yard, it’s apparent that numerous family members are being nosy but trying to be subtle. We’re definitely on display for everyone to see.

I almost feel like I’m intruding on a family moment, because Ash has been a part of it for so long.

“I’m gonna go help with the food,” I announce with way too much enthusiasm.

I turn on my heel and get away from them as fast as I can. Cowardly, considering I’m here as a fake boyfriend and probably should’ve stayed by Ollie’s side, but the more I try to fight it, the more I’m realizing I’m into Ollie a hell of a lot more than I should be. I’m invested now.

And isn’t that the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.

This is worse than Daniel and Dylan combined. Because this time? Physical injuries aren’t a worry. Nope. Ollie has the ability to tear my heart out.

I risk a glance back at him before I head inside the house to help his mom in the kitchen, and with the way he and Ash are smiling warmly at each other, the risk of heartache just became significantly higher.