Page 122 of Strung Along

“Hi, Brody,” Bryce all but sings, a smirk prominent on her face.

Anna ignores her friends, speaking just to me. “Where did your grandparents go?”

“Grandma’s minglin’ and draggin’ Grandpa behind her while she does it.”

While I may have driven them both to the party, Grandma didn’t make it five seconds inside before she was accosted by one of her bingo friends. I would feel bad for my grandpa if he weren’t so used to it.

“No surprise there,” Anna says with an adorable, light laugh. “Now that you’re here, I want you to meet my mother, Larissa. Mom, this is Brody.”

Anna’s mother is already beaming when she takes my extended hand and shakes it. Her eyes crinkle at the corner, their warm shade of brown the same as her daughter’s.

“I’ve heard so, so much about you, Brody. It’s a pleasure to put a face to the name,” she says.

“Likewise. It’s great to meet you, ma’am.” I turn to Anna and ask, “Been talkin’ about me, have you?”

“Only every chance I get,” she deadpans.

Tugging her close, I let her warmth seep into my very bones. “Makes us even, then.”

“Mom is a serious fan of your music, by the way. Don’t buy her little coy act.”

Larissa gapes at her daughter, glancing at her two best friends as if they’ll give her some backup. They don’t—instead, they’re too busy trying not to laugh to offer any saving.

“I’m flattered, truly,” I tell her.

“Betrayed by my own flesh and blood. You’re lucky I love you so much, Annalise.”

Anna jabs a finger at her mother. “You’d do the same thing, don’t even try and pretend otherwise.”

“I’d like to see that, actually,” Poppy puts in.

Bryce hums in agreement. “Me too.”

“You guys!” Anna shrieks.

I rub my hand over the dip of her waist and chuckle. “Sorry, baby, but I’d also like to see it.”

“I’m safe nowhere. You can get out of my safe space any minute now,” Anna grumbles, but there’s no heat behind the words.

Larissa hides a smile and pats Anna’s shoulder. “Aw, sweetie. We’re sorry.”

“Don’t lie. No you’re not,” Anna says.

Her mom says something in return, but a pat on my shoulder distracts me from what it was. As I shift to look behind me, Anna slips from my side, and I find Caleb waiting, a microphone in his hand.

His stare is kind as he waits for me to excuse myself from the conversation and steal a kiss from Anna’s lip-glossed lips. He leads me through the throngs of people and toward the small stage we had put up in the corner of the salon.

We stop a couple of feet away, and Caleb hands me the mic. “Sound system should be good to go now. Just flip on the mic whenever you’re ready. How are you feeling, man?”

“Real fuckin’ happy. Proud too. Prouder than I’ve ever been of anyone before.” It’s a heavy understatement, but I can’t wrap together more than that right now.

I’m too busy playing back my speech in my head in preparation for the next few minutes. I’ve never had as much trouble stringing words together as I did for this. It’s not surprising, though. What I feel for Anna has always been too big for words.

“It’s good to see you like this. That stupid grin of yours is a sight for sore eyes.”

“I smiled before I met Anna.”

“Not like that. Not like you have something really good in life. Like you’re truly happy.”