Page 8 of Touchdown Under the Mistletoe
“It’s fine,” I assure her, though I’m starting to think I’ll have more bruises by the end of this meal than I get from playing in the Super Bowl.
Across from me, my sister Aspen is attempting to feed one-year-old Rosie while also eating her own dinner. My brother-in-law Maddox is doing his best to help, but Rosie has other plans and keeps reaching for everything on the table with her tiny, surprisingly strong hands.
“No, sweetie, that’s Grandpa’s wine glass,” Aspen says, redirecting Rosie’s grabbing hands.
Riley leans forward slightly. “She’s gotten so big, Aspen. I can’t believe she’s already one year old! The last time I saw her, she was only a couple of months old, and now she’s like a… real person, you know?”
Aspen laughs. “I know, right? She’s into everything now. Remember when we used to babysit together? We thought those kids were a handful. We had no idea.”
“Maybe we should’ve set up a kids’ table,” my dad jokes.
“Where? In the bathtub?” my mother asks, gesturing around the table.
“I call not sitting in the bathtub,” Beau says.
“Well, you’re not a kid,” I say.
“I beg to differ,” Riley says and sticks her tongue out at her brother.
He arches a brow. “Really, Sis? We’re both in our thirties, and you don’t think it’s weird to stick your tongue out at me?”
“It’s a timeless gesture. Age has nothing to do with it,” she says with a grin.
“She’s got a point, Beau,” I say, earning a grateful look from Riley that makes my pulse race.
Huh. What is happening to me?
“Excuse me? Best friends should defend each other,” Beau says.
“To be fair, do you remember the time you put salt in my orange juice when we were, what, twenty-five? That wasn’t acting your age either,” I say.
“That was payback for you telling everyone I cried during The Notebook,” Beau shoots back.
“Youdidcry during The Notebook,” Riley and I say in unison.
“Children, please,” my mom interrupts. “Let’s try to maintain some dignity at the dinner table.”
“Sorry,” I say but still can’t stop grinning.
“So, Travis, I saw the pictures of you and Sienna Montgomery at that charity gala. When do we finally get to meet her?” Aunt Annie asks.
And just like that, my smile is gone, and the temperature at the table drops about ten degrees. At least, it feels that way to me. Everyone else is looking at me expectantly. I force a smile, even though talking about Sienna is the last thing I want to do right now, especially with Riley sitting right next to me.
“She’s great,” I say, aiming for enthusiastic but probably sounding like a hostage reading a ransom note.
“That’s it? Just ‘great’. Come on, Travis, give us something! How did you two meet? What’s she like? Is it serious? The tabloids don’t give all the details. We want to hear everything from you,” Aunt Annie says.
“I agree. You’re my brother, and you haven’t told me anything substantial about the new love of your life,” Aspen says.
The love of my life, yeah, right. If only I could tell my sister the truth.
Next to me, Riley goes very still. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her suddenly become fascinated with the green beans on her plate, pushing them around with her fork like they’re the most interesting vegetables she’s ever seen.
“Well?” Aunt Annie presses.
“We met through mutual friends,” I say, which is technically true if you count our agents as mutual friends.
“And what is she like?” Uncle William asks.
