Page 43 of The Kiss Keeper
“Having sex,” Lara supplied with the enthusiasm of a game show hostess. “I can only imagine that doing it multiple times a day really eats into your schedule.”
Leslie elbowed her sister. “Hush, Lara! What the hell is wrong with you?”
Nat glanced around the room. Thank God, the kids’ table was situated all the way back in the far corner of the dining hall. Despite a few little heads popping up to try to get a look over the sea of adults, she knew, from her many years being seated at that very table, that they probably didn’t hear Lara’s sex observation.
She recycled her apologetic grin. “No, we were about to leave when I tripped. That’s why we’re late.”
“We figured since we heard you guys at it, last night, maybe you were knocking another one out this morning,” Marcus chimed brightly as if he were remarking on the weather.
Nat stared at Lara and her husband. She should be embarrassed, but all she could do was wonder how the hell did these people treat actual medical conditions.
“Go on, you two, and take a seat. There are a few spots left at the kids’ table,” her grandmother said with an amused twinkle in her eye.
“Kids’ table?” Jake murmured under his breath.
“Believe me. It beats sitting with my cousins,” she whispered back. “Oh, and you can put me down now.”
Gently, he eased her out of his arms, and she took a few steps with every eyeball, except for Leo’s, trained on her feet.
“All good with the ankle,” she said, taking Jake’s hand and leading him through the maze of tables to the one littered with half-eaten bowls of oatmeal and torn open mini boxes of cereal.
The hum of table conversations resumed as she and Jake settled into their seats.
“Aunt Nat! Aunt Nat!” the kids cried, abandoning their chairs to cluster around her.
“Wow, you guys have gotten big,” she said, staring at six smiling faces. “Jake, meet Annabelle, age six, Finn who’s twelve, Maddie and Josie, our nine-year-olds, and the twins, Toby and Tucker, who just turned seven. Did I get that right?”
“Yep, but I’m four minutes older than Tuck,” Toby replied with a toothy grin.
Jake glanced around wide-eyed as if rebel forces were invading. “Are these all your nieces and nephews?”
She shook her head. “Technically, I’m not their aunt. I don’t have any siblings, so I don’t have any official nieces or nephews. These are some of my cousins’ kids. But it’s easier for them to call me Aunt Natalie instead of first cousin once removed, Natalie,” she answered as a tiny body wiggled its way onto her lap.
“This is the table for the six-to twelve-year-olds, Uncle Jake,” her lap inhabitant, Annabelle Woolwich, announced proudly with a milk mustache.
“Here, Uncle Jake! You can have a box of Frosted Flakes. Mimi and Poppy said we can have sugar cereal this week!” Tucker exclaimed, shaking the box a few inches from Jake’s face, but the man didn’t move.
“Thanks, Tuck,” she said, intercepting the cereal box meant for a glazed-over Jake.
“All right, guys! Why don’t you finish your breakfast while I talk with Jake for a second?”
The children scrambled back to their seats, and she turned to her overwhelmed date.
“Are you breathing?”
The man had gone rigid and sat there, blinking like a deer caught in a pair of headlights. A pretty standard response after one’s first encounter with the entire Woolwich clan. Plus, their chaotic, mad dash start to the day hadn’t helped either.
“My family can be…a lot,” she offered
“Yeah.”
“Here’s Woolwich 101. Mimi and Poppy are what the great-grandkids call my grandparents.”
Jake nodded as Annabelle opened his box of cereal and poured it into a bowl along with a splash of milk. She handed him a spoon, and he accepted it robotically.
“My grandparents are big on stages and phases. The six-to-twelve table is a big step up from dining with your parents to sitting with the kids for meals. The thirteen-to fifteen-year-olds are allowed to sit wherever they want and roam around camp on their own.”
“What about the older kids?” Jake asked through a bite of cereal.
