Page 70 of Insta-Family (Forbidden Descendants 3)

Maybe I could take Ava Grace with me when she was old enough, and she could choose something of her father’s to keep, as well.

“Hey.”

I jumped when Beau’s voice spoke beside me. When I glanced over, he hitched up his chin questioningly.

“Everything okay?”

I nodded.

Embarrassed about being caught having a moment, I cleared my throat and motioned around me. “Does anyone here actually know my name? I’m not even the uncle anymore. I’ve been shortened to just plain Uncle now.”

Beau grinned and smacked me on the back. “Don’t take it personally. Hell, half of them probably don’t even remember my name, and I’ve known them all since birth.”

A wadded piece of paper promptly hit him in the side of the head before someone called, “That’s because we’ve thought of you as Dickhead for so long, your real name’s floated off to the wayside.”

“That’s not what your sister was calling me last night,” Beau shot back, grinning, only to glance at me, ignoring the dirty name he was labeled next, to explain, “He’s my brother-in-law.”

“Ahh.”

I started to ask just how many people were currently in my house when someone shouted Beau’s name from the kitchen, so he took off, leaving me standing there just as a loud voice from the hallway hollered, “Watch out, coming through. Can’t see where the fuck I’m going.”

I turned to find Luke—one of the few names I remembered since he’d been one of the two people who had proposed marriage to Lucy—backing into the front room from the hallway as he carried one end of my bedroom dresser.

I didn’t know the name of the guy at the other end, but he looked vaguely like Luke as he instructed, “Right, right, right. Turn right.”

In response, Luke shifted left and promptly ran into a stack of kitchen chairs, knocking them over.

“I said right!” his companion snapped.

“I did go right,” Luke muttered petulantly. “Damn.”

To which he was promptly told, “Your other right.”

“Oh.” Luke shrugged out a cringe. “My bad.”

“Jesus.” The man carrying the dresser with him rolled his eyes and sighed. “Why do you always gotta do the very opposite of what I say?”

“Why do you always gotta fucking tell me what to do?” Luke snapped back.

“Hey, fellas,” a blond woman broke in, greeting them like a pro-peacekeeper as she appeared from the kitchen to pick up the fallen chairs and get them out of the men’s way. “Fighting again, I see.”

The guy who wasn’t Luke sent her a strained glance. “I’m gonna strangle him, I swear to God.”

“I know, but don’t forget: fratricide’s illegal, baby.” Then she cupped his face in both hands and kissed him lightly on the lips.

“Hey, where’s my kiss?” Luke called from the other side of the dresser, puckering his lips at her.

The blonde cast him a dirty glance. “Not on your life, pal.”

“Hey, that’s not what you were saying the night you crawled into my tent,” he smarted back, snickering with amusement.

“That’s it.” Not-Luke promptly plopped his side of the dresser down wi

th a thump and glared. “You’re dead.”

Luke took in his expression, and his eyes grew big. “Shit,” he muttered, realizing he’d crossed the line, and he dropped his end of the bureau as well, chanting, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” even as he took off, heading toward the kitchen with the other man hot on his heels.

I blinked after them, and a strange heaviness filled my chest.

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