Well, at least now I knew where Brock and I stood; however I’d wished he hadn’t quite dropped the bomb like that. I would’ve liked it to be in private, so I could’ve done a happy dance. And I wish it hadn’t been in front of my parents, because things got a little weird after that.

Dad appeared smug and patted Brock’s back like being with me was equal to him winning a tough match. Then Dad crossed his arms and nodded sagely as if he had always known this was how it would turn out.

And Mom . . . Good Lord, Mom looked about ready to cry, and not just a few tears. Oh no, she looked like she was about to sob like somehow Brock had discovered the fountain of youth and was about to give her directions on the location.

Truth was though, I was . . . I was pleased they were happy, and they really were. I had to look away, focus on the new painting in the foyer of a sandy golden beach and sky at dusk, vibrantly catching the blue and pink hues, so no one saw how shiny my eyes were getting.

Especially when Brock draped his arm over my shoulders and pulled into my side while Mom continued to gush on about how happy she was. It was a big deal to her. We were here for Thanksgiving, and tomorrow would be the first true family dinner in a long time.

And it . . . it really would.

Brock leaned in and whispered in my left ear. “You okay?”

I nodded and then looked down at the cat carrier. Rhage was hissing and carrying on in his carrier while my Mom stared all googly-eyed at Brock, probably already planning the wedding invitations while baby booties danced in her head.

Rhage withdrew from my finger and I sighed. “I’m going to take Rhage upstairs. He’s getting—”

The front door swung open and a swarm of small people rushed in, a literal sea of tiny humans. I blinked, losing count once I saw the sixth dark-haired child, and I knew it was Uncle Julio, because he could seriously fill out an entire baseball roster with his own children.

I straightened before I was knocked over by the wave of children. Brock shifted closer and his arm went around me again.

Julio’s wife came through, carrying the youngest on her hip, and miraculously she didn’t look pregnant. “I told you Brock was here,” Heather yelled over her shoulder. “That was his car out front.”

“I know that’s his car,” my uncle shouted back.

“And Jilly is with him!” Heather drew up short, her gaze moving from my face to his and then to the arm around my shoulder. “And Brock has his arm around her!”

My brows rose.

Brock chuckled under his breath.