Page 72 of Be My Wife

A crowd is stumbling inside. Their laughter and bright smiles fill the strict, formal lobby with high-energy, grabbing the attention of the two burly security guards waiting near the front desk.

The men approach Elizabeth’s family.

“Hold it right there,” they bark.

I jog ahead, waving my arms. “Stop! Stop! They’re family!”

The guards shoot confused glances between me—the pale-skinned ginger and the family of warm, glowing African Americans gathering loudly in the center of the lobby with moving boxes and cans of beer.

“Brogan!” Elizabeth steps out of the crowd. Her hair is pulled back into a frizzy ponytail. She’s wearing a simple T-shirt and shorts that show off her long, toned legs.

“Hey.” I wrap my arms around her waist and dip down to kiss her cheek. While I have my lips close to her ear, I whisper, “This is all of them?”

“Half.” She glances up. “Will they fit in the penthouse?”

Of course. But that’s not the problem here. If this is only half of her family, I can’t imagine what Christmas is like when they’re all together.

I pull away from Elizabeth and face the crowd. Her family stares at me like I’m an alien fresh off the spaceship.

“Is that him?”

“What’s wrong with his hands?”

“Did you know he was…?”

“What?”

“This white.”

“He’s white-white. I thought you said he was regular white?”

“So?”

“Girl, we’re not living in the fifties. What’s wrong with that?

“I’m just saying.”

Elizabeth ignores the whispers and takes my hand. “Guys, I’d like to introduce you to my husband. Brogan, this is my family.”

I nod. “Welcome. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

The guards approach us. “Mr. Harrington, Mrs. Harrington. Should we help you take those upstairs?”

“We’ve got it,” Elizabeth says. “Thanks.”

They return to their stations.

I gesture to the elevator. “Right this way.”

Instead of following me there, Elizabeth’s people form a circle around me.

A thick woman with pencil-thin eyebrows and plump lips looks me up and down. “I’m Aunt Becca. Do you live in this building, young man?”

“The top floor.”

Impressed murmurs pulse all around.

“By chance,” another woman edges forward, “do you own this building?”

---