Page 142 of Icing on the Cake

“You listen here, mister. Elliot is nice, and I like him a lot. So, you better not be mean to him, or else…” She balls her tiny hand into a fist. “I’ll punch you right in the balls!”

Gerard’s eyes widen, and his hands instinctively move to protect his crotch. I bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud at the sight of this hulking hockey player cowering before his pint-sized sister. It’sbeyondcute.

“Whoa, easy there, Squirt. I would never be mean to Elliot. I like him way too much to ever hurt him. And trust me, I’m very fond of my balls, so please don’t do anything to them.”

Hearing him declare his feelings for me in front of his family makes me want to tackle him in a bear hug and never let go.

Lily eyes him suspiciously for a moment before nodding, appeased by his promise. “Good. Because if you make Elliot sad, I’ll be really mad at you. And then I won’t cheer for you when Dad puts your hockey games on the TV anymore.”

Gerard gasps, clutching his chest in mock horror. “You wouldn’t!”

“I would,” Lily says solemnly.

Gavin claps his hands, drawing our attention. “Well, now that the important business is out of the way, what do you say we head home and celebrate Lily’s fantastic performance with some ice cream?—”

“Yay!” Lily squeals, bouncing up and down like a jackhammer.

“—after dinner,” Gavin finishes, giving Lily a stern look.

“What?!” she screeches. “I hate it here!”

She takes off running while the rest of us follow after her, laughing all the way.

Yeah, I think I’ll fit in perfectly fine with the Gunnarson family.

31

GERARD

Dinner was a success. The dessert was delicious. Reliving my most embarrassing childhood memories? Priceless…not.

After Mom took Lily upstairs for her nighttime bath, Dad brought Elliot and me into the family room. I thought we were going to watch some old highlight reels of my dad’s time at BSU or play someNHL 16. But once again, stupidity strikes.

“And this is Gerard with our dog, Fido—may he rest in peace—recreating the Coppertone ad.”

“Dad!” I stare in horror as Dad proudly displays a photo of ten-year-old me with my butt hanging out as Fido tugs at my swim trunks. Elliot cackles to the point that tears stream down his face.

“Aww, look at that cute little tush!” Dad coos. “You were such a chubby little kid, Gerard. We couldn’t keep you in clothes half the time.”

My face burns hotter than a stove set to four hundred and twenty-five degrees. I want to dive behind the couch and hide forever.

“Oh, and this one!” Dad flips to the next page, revealing a gap-toothed, bowl-cut sporting version of myself covered head to toein mud. “Gerard loved making mud pies in the backyard. Remember, son?”

“How could I forget?” I growl through clenched teeth. Elliot snickers beside me, clearly relishing my pain.

Dad continues his onslaught, each photo more humiliating than the last. There I am, dressed as a sunflower for the Elk Valley Elementary School play. Caught mid-scream on the Log Flume ride at Six Flags. And who could forget the classic “Gerard crying on Santa’s lap” portrait?

“Anyone need a refill?” Dad holds up the empty wine bottle. Elliot and I shake our heads, but that doesn’t stop him. “I’m gonna grab another from the cellar. You boys behave now!”

He saunters off, and I turn to Elliot, my face still flaming. “I am so, so sorry about him. He doesn’t get out much these days, and I think the excitement of having company is going to his head, and?—”

“Gerard, relax.” Elliot places a finger on my lips, and I go cross-eyed, trying to look at it. “Your dad is great. He loves you a lot.”

“Yeah, but did he have to break out the baby pictures? I mean, come on.”

Elliot chuckles. “I think it’s sweet. And honestly, it’s nice to see this side of you.”

I blink at him, surprised. “You…enjoyseeing me embarrassed?”

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