“I have it handled,” I muttered, thinking about the slow process of rebuilding the family company. We had filed for bankruptcy and brought it down to bare bones, so there was still a lot of work to be done.
“You could have at least come to me for the legal shit,” Yates grumbled.
I nodded, knowing I could have but had still chosen not to. Before I could say anything, Dahlia walked back over with Lincoln, making me smile.
“It doesn’t really matter anymore. I tried to push her away, and she pushed back. I am too fucking exahusted to fight that shit anymore.”
Kingston chuckled. “It probably helped that I outed all of us for being in love with her.”
Sterling frowned. “Cool, King. It’s not like I would have fucking wanted to tell her that first or anything.”
“I didn’t mind,” Yates pointed out, smiling. “She’s not ready for everything I have to say to her.”
I fucking bet so. Yates had way too many secrets revolving around the extent he’d gone to watch over Dahlia. I didn’t need to talk to him daily to know that. He had only gotten worse over the years.
“Dermot?” Dahlia’s sing-song voice broke through our conversation.
“What’s up, lass?” he asked.
“Can we finish watching the second movie at your house? I’m all hyped up and not tired at all.” She swung the bag of the food as I smiled at the way her eyes darted over everyone. It was very clear she was indeed hyped up right now. Almost giddy.
I pinned her with a look. “You’re sitting down and eating with me before we do anything.” She needed to eat.
“Fine,” she sighed dramatically, going to walk towards my house as I smiled at the way she took directions. Fuck. I loved that shit.
“Well, that’s good at least,” Lincoln pointed out.
“Give us an hour,” I said, walking backwards. “Whose house?”
“Dermot’s place.” King nodded towards the recent purchase. I had a feeling why Kingston had bought it, but fuck—we hadn’t talked about any of that in years. Well, at least not with me.
King spoke again. “Glad you’re back, Stratton.”
“It’s been a bit.” I exchanged a look with him as I finally gave a small smile.
“Oh, by the way,” he grinned, “the interior decorator is coming sometime this week.”
I’d been right. I barked out a laugh as I realized he truly planned to make ‘Dermot’s’ house the one we had always talked about. The one where we would all live. With Dahlia. As a family.
“Hey, MeMaw!” Dahlia’s sweet voice rang out as I entered our comfortable home. The scene I walked into had me smiling.
Our living room wasn’t as modern or luxurious as some of the others’, but it was home. In size, it was quite large, but it retained a homey, warm quality. Right now, the family room was lit up with warm lights as my grandma sat on the couch talking to Dahlia, dressed as if it was two in the afternoon rather than ten at night. Despite her being sick, she dressed up every single day.
I think it was a habit, but she seemed happy that way, so who was I to suggest changing that? Plus, it was something familiar. MeMaw was the only family I had anymore, and I don’t know if I could handle a change from that right now. My eyes ran over Dahlia, who sat talking animatedly with her, smiling as my grandma spoke, squeezing her hand as they laughed about something. I didn’t even realize I was staring until she was looking up at me.
“What are you doing?” MeMaw frowned. “Come on, can’t you tell this poor girl is hungry? Look how tiny she is!”
“Yeah,Stratton,” Dahlia teased, offering me a little wink.
This woman. I swear she was going to kill me.
As I took out the delivery from a local restaurant, Dahlia went to go get drinks, despite my protests. MeMaw stared at me with a smile as she left, until I finally met her gaze and offered a literal grunt, knowing why she was looking at me like that. I had never kept it a secret from her how I felt about Dahlia. She was literally the only person I could tell.
“So you and Dahlia are spending time together again?” she pressed. Despite her formal questioning, I could see the amusement, and I knew she probably found all of this hilarious.
“Yes.” I set down several containers. “We are.”
My grandma nodded, “Good. Don’t mess this up, boy. Dahlia is the marrying type of woman. You treat her right.”