Page 100 of Stolen Vows

“I made you stay,” Beau says.

But I can’t pull my gaze from Graham’s expression to look at his brother or anyone else.

“Yeah,” Graham grunts. “And so I was sulking against the wall. Until I saw her.” His eyes soften as they meet mine, a small, private smile curving his lips. “Francesca was dancing alone, in the middle of a crowded room, completely lost in the music.” His fingers flex against my thigh, like he’s remembering it in real time. “She was smiling, like she didn’t have a single care in the world. I don’t know how long I stood there and watched her. Too long probably.”

My breath catches in my throat. I remember that night. The thrum of the bass, the heat of too many bodies packed into a small space. My sister showed up and tried to talk me into going home early, but I was determined to stay my full year at school. She insisted on going to the house party with me and then ditched me for hours. But I didn’t care. I danced and danced and danced.

“And then I went searching for water and I found you,” I murmur, my smile twisting to the side.

Graham’s hand curls inward, his fingers sliding down my inner thigh as he adjusts his grip.

“Well this puts a new spin ontall drink of water,” Beau mutters with a laugh.

Graham’s thumb rubs slow circles on my thigh, sending tingles of heat racing across my skin. “You walked right up to me, all flushed and breathless.” His voice drops an octave, rough and intimate. “Looked up at me with those big golden eyes, and I handed you my drink. That’s when I knew.”

My heart stutters in my chest at his words.

“So you, what, didn’t talk for ten years then? I’m confused. If you met in college, what took you so long?” Cora asks as she takes a sip of her champagne. There’s no malice in her question, just genuine curiosity.

I wet my lips and drag my gaze from Graham. It takes more effort than it should considering I’m surrounded by his family. “I had to move back home.”

“But you’re back now? Where’s home?” Cora asks.

“Here,” Graham grunts.

Lucas smothers a laugh with a cough, and it breaks the mounting tension. But Graham’s shoulders never relax and his hand never leaves my thigh. Beau cracks a joke and Eloise laughs. Jagger whispers something in Cora’s ear that has her blushing. Hazel never peels her gaze from the space between me and her son, a small smile lifting her mouth.

And I feel it then. That old ache. Because this is so different from my family it’s laughable.

As the meal winds down, everyone starts to clear the table. Cora and Beau argue good-naturedly over who has to do the dishes, while Jagger and Eloise gather up the leftover food. I stand to help, but Hazel waves me off with a smile.

“Sit, relax. You’re our guest,” she insists, patting my shoulder as she passes by with an armload of plates.

I sink back into my chair, a little overwhelmed by the easy affection and warmth of this family. Graham’s hand finds mine under the table, his fingers lacing through my own. I glance over at him, finding him already watching me with a soft, tender expression that makes my heart flip.

“You okay?” he murmurs, low enough for only me to hear.

I nod, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “More than okay. Your family is wonderful, Graham.”

His thumb strokes over my knuckles, the simple touch grounding me. “You fit right in.”

“You think so?” I hate how small my voice sounds.

“I know it.”

As if summoned by my happiness, my phone vibrates inside my purse. I slip it out and see my mother’s name flash on the screen. I bite the inside of my cheek and let it go to voicemail. It’s probably an accident. My mother doesn’t call me. If she needs something, she usually sends her message through Florence.

I exhale when it stops vibrating, my home screen lighting up with five missed calls from her.

“Shit,” I whisper, my heart skipping a beat. I stand up abruptly, my chair scraping against the hardwood floor. “I’m sorry, I just need to take this. I’ll be right back.”

I hurry out of the dining room, my heels clicking against the floor as I make my way to the front door. I step onto the porch and take a steadying breath before calling my mother back.

She answers on the first ring. “Oh good. I thought I’d need to send the sheriff's department to your little flat. Because the only way you’d ignore my calls is if you were dead.”

“Mother,” I greet, trying to keep my voice level. “I apologize, I was at dinner and my phone was in my purse.”

“A dinner party on a Sunday night, Francesca? Don’t insult me again.” Her voice is sharp, each word precisely enunciated. “In fact, I should contact Rupert and have him add an addendum to our contract. It seems the only way you behave is when I threaten you legally.”

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