Page 200 of Well That Happened

“It’s really not that complicated,” Caleb says, because apparently he has a death wish. “We all love Rilee, Rilee loves—”

Hunter slaps a hand over his mouth.

Grandma’s eyebrows climb toward her hairline. “Love?”

“Strong like,” Hunter says quickly. “He meant strong like.”

“I know what I heard.” Grandma’s looking at me now, expression softer. “Dear, are you happy?”

The question catches me off guard. I glance between them—Caleb still muzzled by Hunter, Grayson steady as always, Hunter looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Yes,” I say quietly. “Really happy.”

Grandma nods once, decisive. “Good. That’s all that matters.” She takes a sip of coffee. “Though I do have questions about the bedroom arrange—”

“OKAY,” Hunter says loudly, “who wants to watch football?”

“I do!” I practically shout, already backing toward the door.

Grandma chuckles into her mug. “Spoilsports. Though dinner’s going to be very interesting tomorrow when your Aunt Katherine arrives.”

Hunter pales. “Aunt Katherine’s coming?”

“Oh yes. With her new boyfriend. He’s a therapist.” Grandma’s smile is positively wicked. “Specializes in alternative relationship structures.”

I flee.

Behind me, I hear Caleb say, “Actually, that sounds helpful—”

And then the distinct sound of Hunter tackling him.

By the time we escape to the guest rooms, I’m exhausted from dodging questions and managing wandering hands. Mrs. Maddox, bless her, put me in the nice guest room with the queen bed. The guys are supposedly sharing the basement rec room with its pull-out couch and air mattresses.

Supposedly.

I’m barely under the covers when my door creaks open.

“No,” I whisper into the darkness. “Absolutely not.”

“Just for a little bit,” Caleb whispers back, already sliding under the covers. “I can’t sleep down there. Hunter keeps muttering about his grandmother.”

“Because she tried to give him a book about polyamory at dessert!”

“Which was thoughtful,” Caleb argues, curling around me like an oversized golden retriever. “Very progressive for her generation.”

Another creak. Grayson’s silhouette appears in the doorway.

“Let me guess,” I sigh. “You can’t sleep either.”

“Hunter’s grinding his teeth,” he says simply, already moving toward the bed.

“This bed is not big enough for—”

The door opens again.

“If everyone else is up here,” Hunter mutters, “I’m not staying in the basement like an idiot.”

“Your parents are going to murder us,” I hiss.

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