I’ve barely finished sending the email when there’s a brief knock on my door, followed by my mother’s entrance. “Good, I see you’re settling in nicely.”

“I’m doing my best, but—”

Before I can so much as hint at what went on last night, she continues, “Breakfast is nearly ready.”

How am I supposed to eat with a pit in my stomach? “Are we all eating together?” I ask, mentally crossing my fingers in hopes of her saying no.

No such luck. “Of course.” I guess my reaction isn’t what she was hoping for since her eyes narrow in a familiar way. She can try all she wants to be the happy, chipper bride-to-be, but those little flashes of the real person behind her smile insist on slipping through. “Now, you listen to me. I don’t want any of your complaints. I don’t want you dragging your feet or muttering things under your breath. I refuse to allow that. You will not ruin this for me, understood?”

All I did was ask a simple question. Clearly, she’s waiting for me to answer, and she’ll accept only one answer. “Understood,” I whisper, and the words curdle in my mouth.

“Good. Be downstairs in three minutes.” She’s out of the room a moment later, and I sink back in my chair with a heavy sigh. So much for staying out of everybody’s way, hoping they forget about me for a little while.

Sure enough, the men are already sitting around the table when I arrive. Mom is carrying in the last of the platters—already, she’s covered the table with pancakes, bacon, and sausage. Now, she’s adding a pile of scrambled eggs.

James laughs indulgently at the feast she’s put together. “You don’t need to go to all this trouble.” He takes her hand and lifts it to his lips before planting a kiss that, for some reason, makes my stomach turn.

“This is nothing. I love cooking, and it’s been so long since I had a reason to whip up a meal like this.” She’s smiling brilliantly as she takes a seat, every inch the glowing, happy homemaker. “Besides, this is our first breakfast together as a family. I thought it should be special.” From the taste of it, even the orange juice is freshly squeezed. I wonder how early she had to wake up this morning to put this together.

“Yes, I imagine there wasn’t much reason to cook up a feast in the trailer park.” Nix glances over at Colt, and the two of them share a snide little chuckle. Either the adults didn’t hear it, or they’re ignoring them. I decide to pretend I didn’t hear it, instead reaching for the eggs. I hate the feel of their eyes on me—like they’re waiting for an excuse to pounce.