The Wingman by A. Poland

Chapter Twenty-Five

“You sure I look okay?” Nathan asked Miles for what had to be the tenth time.

Slowly running an appraising eye over him once again, Miles nodded confidently. “I think you look great.”

It was always some variant of “great.” Nathan’s personal favorite was “stunning,” but he wasn’t going to complain with a “great.” As uncomfortable as Miles always was with receiving compliments, he could sure as hell dish them out when he was in the mood. Which was becoming increasingly more often the longer their relationship went on and the more comfortable Miles grew with him.

Baby steps, but their relationship was worth it.

Their relationship. Nathan’s boyfriend.

Man, it still gave Nathan such a thrill.

“Seriously, they’re going to love you,” Miles assured him, one hand lifting from the steering wheel to rest on Nathan’s knee. Automatically, Nathan placed his hand on top of Miles’s. Nathan never once thought he’d be a sucker for hand-holding, but here he was—an absolute slut for a good hand-hold.

“Right,” Nathan huffed, not entirely convinced.

“Really. They already do,” Miles asserted. “I don’t shut up about you.”

Nathan turned away to gaze out the car window, hiding the wide grin that spread over his features. Miles had talked to his family about him; he hadn’t shut up about Nathan.

Nathan would be hesitant to say he’d ever swooned, but it was a close thing.

“Still. I want to make a good impression.”

The chocolate—dairy-free because Miles’s youngest sister, Lanelle, was lactose intolerant—alcohol-free wine, and hypoallergenic flowers Nathan brought with him were a testament to that. This would be the first time Nathan had met anyone’s parents in the capacity of a boyfriend. He didn’t really know the procedure for it.

Nathan had spent an embarrassing amount of time googling the dos and don’ts of meeting your significant other’s family, but he still felt like he was going in unprepared.

Miles had already had a sit-down dinner with Ben, and of course,he’d completely won Nathan’s father over. In advance of the dinner, Miles even learned a few key phrases of ASL, which Nathan thought was a nice touch. An even nicer touch was the book Nathan found in Miles’s loft weeks later—Learn ASL inThree Months, complete with colorful tabs and sheets of notes Miles had written out.

Hell, Ben and Miles had started baking together once they found out about their mutual love for it. They now texted each other recipes and baking memes, which Nathan’d had no idea was a subsection of memes, on a regular basis. It was disgustingly sweet.

So the pressure was on for Nathan to make a good impression with Miles’s family, and he knew his job was going to be more difficult. Six sisters and two parents, all extremely protective of Miles. Simone’s voice played in the back of his head, reminding him about them running Miles’s last boyfriend out of the state.

It was enough to make Nathan pale.

“You will.” Miles’s soft tone drew Nathan out of his thoughts, which had been running through all of the possible ways someone could be run out of an entire state.

Miles squeezed his hand, and Nathan squeezed right back.

Miles had Sunday dinner with his family every week. It was a tradition set in stone, and no one missed it unless they were away or deathly ill. In which case the family would then go to whoever was sick and take care of them for the afternoon. Or if, in the case of camping, some schmuck on the trip went missing and they had to stay behind to find them. And this Sunday was special for reasons other than Nathan being there. Olivia, the Michelin star chef, had just returned from London, having been offered a job as head chef in one of the most prestigious restaurants in Burbank. Seriously, Nathan never had a reason to go to Burbank, and even he knew how fancy that place was.

Hopefully, that success would distract everyone from Nathan’s presence.

“Huh, everyone must be here already,” Miles said as he pulled into the driveway behind a brightly colored pink, yellow, and blue Harley motorcycle. Nathan inwardly tried to match up the bike to one of the sisters based on what he knew of them. He guessed Izzy, the pilot who had apparently applied for pilot school on a whim because she loved how fast the takeoff felt.

Yeah, Nathan was confident. Izzy seemed like a good fit.

“You ready?” Miles asked, a soft look on his face.

Nathan glanced from Miles to the doorway of the house—Nathan could definitely see where Miles got his love of plants from, considering the wide variety of pots and hanging baskets decorating the entrance—and nodded determinedly.

“As ready as I’m going to be.”

Miles’s smile grew wider as he leaned over to press a warm kiss to Nathan’s lips before getting out of the car. Armed with the flowers and chocolate—Miles carrying the wine—they went hand in hand up to the door. Miles rapped his knuckles against it, definitely in rhythm to the song he’d been humming all morning. (Nathan still wasn’t sure if it was “O Fortuna” or Smash Mouth’s “All Star,” both very different moods, and it was throwing him off.) Before Nathan could ask which it was—foreboding end-of-days choir or Shrek-esque—the door opened, and they were both yanked in by the wrists.

Nathan briefly took in the entry hallway, spotting even more of Simone’s paintings and a large family portrait of the same photo Miles had in the loft. The colors were bright and varied, and overall, the home felt warm. Somewhere Nathan could easily imagine a happy family growing up in, especially when he spotted the notches marking heights throughout the years on a doorframe to the left. Miles’s reigned supreme at the top, which someone clearly hadn’t been happy about at the time, having drawn a sad face beside his name.

“Guests of honor part two and three have arrived!” Simone called out, shutting the door behind them with a flourish and drawing Miles in for a hug.

“Hey, Si.” Miles chuckled, hugging her back just as enthusiastically, and once she’d released him from her hold, he said, “You remember Nathan.” His broad hand rested on the small of Nathan’s back, a comforting warmth there.

Simone gave Nathan a look that he wasn’t sure how to translate.

Shit, was she going to mention their chat?

“How could I not?” Simone crooned, arms thrown around him to give a squeeze he immediately tensed up against. Once he realized it was a normal welcome-hug and not a you-better-watch-yourself-hug, he relaxed and returned the embrace.

“You ready to face the wolves?” Simone asked with a cheeky grin, grasping Nathan by the shoulders.

“Oh, come on.” Miles laughed with a fond eye roll, bringing his arm around Nathan’s waist. Secure, reassuring.

“Hell yeah, I am.”

It was only halfway through dinner that Nathan started to relax because this wasn’t bad at all. All of Miles’s sisters were welcoming, each of them uttering some variant of “Finally, Miles brought you home” and each of them giving him a hug like they’d been friends for years.

Nathan clearly had had the misfortunate of meeting Jordie first—the most intense of the bunch. He’d only been able to speak to her briefly during the meal, and Nathan might have been mistaken, but she seemed more friendly than the last time they’d been together.

Miles must have said really good things about Nathan.

As nervous as Nathan had been to meet the ridiculously successful bunch who were Miles’s sisters, he was even more terrified of meeting his parents, Nina and Erik Mitchell. The two people who had raised these superhumans and welcomed a teenager into their family as though he’d been a part of it all along. They’d sounded almost mythical to Nathan.

But they weren’t otherworldly beings at whose feet Nathan had to bow until he was welcomed into their temple, nothing like that. They were cheerful, warm-hearted people who put Nathan at ease the moment they greeted him.

Erik gave Nathan a one-armed hug and a light clap on the back, immediately mentioning how impressed he was by Nathan’s degree of choice and how he felt that anthropology was often an overlooked field of study. And, man, Nathan just about launched into a lengthy discussion about that because someone else finally got it.

Nina intercepted not too long after, teasingly swatting her husband and scolding him for stealing Nathan away, then turned her attention to Nathan and asked him how good he was at peeling potatoes. When Nathan divulged he was pretty damn woeful at it, she laughed and said there was no such thing. She led him to the kitchen, where he met Jess’s (the eldest of the Mitchell sisters) husband, who had been tasked with gravy duty.

“We have to earn our keep around here,” Luis told Nathan, his voice low and jokingly conspiratorial, knowing there was no way Nina would miss what he was saying. In return, Nina lightly smacked his shoulder with a towel.

“Don’t scare him off; we’d like to keep this one around,” Nina scolded. But there was a smile on her face as she winked at Nathan and handed him a vegetable peeler.

Nathan figured it was possible to learn something new every day, and today, it was how to peel a potato without injury.

So there he was, an hour later, sitting between Miles and Lanelle, watching the chaos of a big family dinner. It was loud, with five different conversations going on at any one time, and Nathan could see how easy it would be to be overlooked. Miles was quiet, as he always was in bigger groups, but this time was different. This time, he didn’t look uncomfortable about it. He beamed all the while, jumping in with comments here and there—he was at ease here.

Nathan, on the other hand, was as loud as any of them, following the flow of conversation and inserting himself when he had something to contribute to the topic. Which was, admittedly, a lot. With every laugh that Nathan earned, Miles squeezed his hand, so Nathan figured he was doing pretty well for himself. He especially hit it off with Izzy, who had the strangest sense of humor Nathan had ever encountered and was not one bit bashful about it. He knew he’d made a friend for life when he brought up the less-fun-more-horrifying duck fact again and she bellowed that she’d seen the video too.

With dinner plates cleared and dessert underway, stomachs full and lethargy setting in, the rapid-fire conversation had slowed down.

“So this is when we get to grill Nathan, right?” Simone piped up, earning a grin from Jordie and a loud bark of laughter from Izzy.

“As though Miles hasn’t already told us everything,” Izzy shot back with a pointed look, strawberry poised at the end of her fork.

“I’m not that bad,” Miles groused.

“Yes, you are,” everyone responded at once, and Nathan blinked. Huh.

“Well, I, for one,” Jess said, oozing with the confidence of a lawyer and a firstborn daughter, “am glad Miles finally brought someone home who isn’t a complete and total asshole.”

“Jess!” Nina scolded, but Nathan had a feeling it was more for Miles’s benefit than true disagreement.

“What? It’s true,” Lanelle replied with a shrug, jumping to Jess’s defense, playing with the whipped cream on the tip of her spoon.

“Remember Richie?” Olivia piped up. “I’m just saying, Miles got out at a good time.”

There was a murmur of agreement around the table, even a begrudging nod from Erik. What kind of guys had Miles dated in the past? Nathan had never pushed Miles into telling him, and he’d always seemed reluctant to talk about any less-than-positive part of his life. But hey, a guy couldn’t help but be curious. Especially when it came to someone Nathan may or may not be completely head over heels for—he definitely was, and that thought didn’t terrify him as much anymore.

“Whether it’s true or not,” Nina said before anyone else could jump on the train of trashing Miles’s exes (dammit, Nathan wanted to hear more), “I think we’re all glad to have Nathan here with us today.”

“To Nathan and Miles.” Izzy raised her glass of not-wine, winking at Nathan from her end of the table. Nathan grinned right back.

“To Nathan and Miles!”

They all clinked glasses, and when Nathan turned to ping his glass against Miles’s—he gave him a kiss instead.

Pulling back, Nathan said, “While we’re doing cheers. To Olivia!”

“Here, here!” came the enthusiastic agreement from Jordie and Izzy.

“Because I would not say no to dinner at a Michelin star restaurant, and this might increase my chances,” Nathan added with a playful grin, and he felt a certain level of satisfaction when a rumble of laughter echoed out amongst the group. Olivia clinked her glass against Nathan’s first, and Nathan took that as a yes.

After dinner, Miles informed Nathan that it was tradition to play some kind of game. The Mitchells had a serious collection of board games, but they had the selection process down to a fine art that narrowed the choices between Twister and Just Dance.

Miles raised his hand for Just Dance when Lanelle instructed everyone to cast their vote, shrugging when Nathan looked at him oddly. Nathan figured he’d have gone with Twister, considering how bendy he was with all of the sunset yoga he did on the roof. “What? You’re a good dancer.”

Nathan raised a brow at him.

“Oh yeah, I heard about that.” Izzy laughed, cross-legged on the floor with both game options in her hands. “Jordie said you were the first college boy she’d ever seen who could half dance.”

Looking over to Jordie, who lay languidly on the couch, Nathan had to laugh. Jordie shrugged, a small knowing grin on her face.

“Just Dance it is then!” Lanelle announced.

Of course, Nathan had played Just Dance before. Who hadn’t at some stage in their lives? But Nathan had never experienced it this intensely. This was a legitimate tournament. There were teams and dance-offs and shit, Nathan was tired.

Miles, as Nathan quickly found out, couldn’t dance to save his life. For the most musical person Nathan knew—and someone who showed Nathan how to slow dance, so Nathan was definitely doubting the validity of that lesson now—he couldn’t quite synchronize his limbs with the motions the on-screen avatar instructed him to follow. He tried his best on “Fergalicious,” but he just couldn’t coordinate the twist of his hips-and-arm shake combo and fundamentally lost out to Luis, who decidedly had that hip roll down.

“Final round!” Izzy exclaimed once the brutal elimination process reduced them to two final competitors.

“Shit, really? Between who?” Nathan was winded, slumped up against Miles on the couch. Jordie’s legs were resting on Nathan’s lap, and he really couldn’t bring himself to mind.

“You and Mom,” Miles told him and laughed when Nathan’s eyes bugged out of his skull.

There was a lengthy debate about what the final song should be, and Nathan happily took the opportunity to catch his breath, glancing over to Nina, who didn’t look one bit flushed from all of the dancing. Suddenly, Nathan doubted his chances.

Finally, the unanimous decision was that “Rasputin” should be the big closer, and Nathan silently cursed each and every one of them for selecting what had to be the most difficult song in the game. Nathan wasn’t sure his knees were up for the challenge.

Nina was soon declared the champion, not that anyone was surprised. Nathan knew it was game over the moment he lost his balance hopping from foot to foot and toppled over onto his ass.

Nathan lay flat out on the floor in an attempt to catch his breath as Lanelle informed him that Nina always won Just Dance—but he’d given it a valiant attempt.

“Told you you can dance,” Miles proudly said, peering down at Nathan from his position on the arm of the couch.

“It’s now my lifelong mission to beat your mom at Just Dance,” Nathan huffed out with a laugh.

“Dream on, sweetheart,” Nina sweetly said, stepping over Nathan’s sprawled body to get to the kitchen.

Nathan couldn’t stop from laughing. This family was…something else.

“Hey, Miles, have you shown Nathan your room yet?” Izzy asked, kneeling on the floor in front of the TV as she took the disc out.

“Oh, not yet,” Miles said, then looked back down to Nathan. “Do you want to?”

“Yeah, sure.” Nathan nodded, pushing himself up off the floor and catching a discreet wink from Izzy that mildly scandalized him. Was she trying to help Nathan get laid? While all of the family—bar Jess and Luis’s kids, who were on a playdate—were downstairs?

Izzy might be a better wingman than Nathan would ever be.

Miles’s room was at the end of a long corridor adorned with family photos, all in mismatched frames and varying colors Nathan thought added to the personality of the home, and all of them documenting the girls growing up.

“It’s this way,” Miles called from ahead, but Nathan waved him off.

“Don’t rush me,” he said, studying each and every one of the photos with a keen eye. “I’m snooping.”

While it was nice to see the rest of the family in the photos, Nathan was unashamedly only interested in the ones featuring Miles. And there were a lot. There was a photo of Jordie and Miles at their high school graduation, the infamous photo of Miles ruining a poor family’s portrait, Miles at his graduation from Juilliard—huh, that was what he looked like with short hair; Nathan was a fan—Miles playing piano at a recital.

“Damn, you in a suit,” Nathan purred, and Miles rolled his eyes, unable to stop the light flush that rose to his cheeks.

But it wasn’t the suited picture of Miles at the piano that made Nathan linger. It was a family photo taken in a restaurant. All nine of them smiled to the camera, all much younger, with big bowls of noodles in front of them: the day Miles was officially adopted, the welcome-to-the-family dinner at the noodle place.

Nathan felt a clench in his chest, a feeling he couldn’t really describe.

“Everything okay?” Miles came over to him and placed a hand on the small of Nathan’s back, but Nathan couldn’t bring himself to look away from the photo.

“They love you so much,” Nathan managed, voice barely above a whisper. “You know that, right?”

Why was he getting so choked up about this?

“Yeah, I know,” Miles assured him in a quiet murmur.

“Okay.” Nathan nodded, gulping and then nodding again. “Good. Because it’s true, and it’s important, and shit, I don’t even want to think about what you went through before the Mitchells, and I—”

“Nathan, babe, hey.” Miles took Nathan’s face in his hands, standing in front of him now and blocking his view of the photograph. “I’m okay.”

Nathan took a breath. Miles was right. He was okay. He had the Mitchells, and now, he had Nathan.

“You’re right,” Nathan agreed quietly, flicking damp eyes up to Miles’s. “Show me that room of yours, big boy.”

Once inside, Nathan immediately started to explore again. Age-faded band posters adorned the red-painted walls. An untidy pile of CDs took up one corner with a collection of books—sci-fi, Nathan noted with a nod of approval. Hell, Miles even had a record player, like the damn hipster he was. It was very Miles, albeit a teenage version of him.

“About what everyone was talking about at dinner…” Miles said quietly after a few long moments, seemingly deeming it enough time for Nathan to have had a sufficient snoop.

“Which part? There was a lot going on,” Nathan mumbled, absently peering into the mostly empty wardrobe and spotting a hoodie with the Juilliard crest emblazoned on the front. “Can I have this?”

“Hm?” Miles glanced at Nathan holding up the gray hoodie to his chest and nodded. Score. “About my exes.”

Nathan was glad he was holding the hoodie because, otherwise, he wouldn’t have known what to do with his hands. At least now he could have played off any surprise smoothly, folding the fabric neatly over his arms.

“What about them?” Nathan replied, keeping his voice level and calm. This was big. Miles was talking about something without being provoked; this was monumental.

Play it cool, Nathan.

“First there was Matt”—oh, wow, he really was diving right in—“in high school. I thought he was great at first. But he would always insist that we drink before we did anything, and it took me a while to figure out he suffered a lot from internalized stuff, and I guess he thought that being drunk would make it count less?”

Nathan put the hoodie down and made his way over to where Miles was perched on the edge of the bed, then sat beside him, shoulders pressed together.

“Anyway, it came to a head one day at school when I asked him if we were hanging out later. I guess something must have happened to set him off because I got a black eye for asking.” Miles trailed off with a small laugh devoid of all humor. “He was suspended for a little while, and when he came back, he acted like I didn’t exist. Then again, that might have been because Jordie filled his locker with glitter after it happened.”

Nathan made a mental note to thank Jordie later or, at least, ask Ben to bake her something nice—because he wanted to show gratitude, not poison her.

“And then there was Richie,” Miles continued, all in a rush, “in college. He got involved with other people while we were in a relationship and, uh, I somehow thought it was my fault? Richie…had a way with words. He’s a music composer and one hell of a lyricist, so I guess that makes sense. Anyway, Simone, Jordie, and Izzy came to visit one weekend, and I ended up telling them what was happening, and somehow, they pulled me out of whatever mindset I was in at the time.”

Nathan had taken Miles’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers together and holding on tight.

“I’m not sure what happened, but next I heard, Richie had moved to Nevada, and he sent me an entire gift basket of limited-edition records as an apology.” Miles glanced over to the stack of records there, untouched and collecting dust, by the record player.

“You do know they had something to do with that, right?” Nathan asked quietly because Miles should know if he hadn’t already figured it out. He should know just what lengths his family would go to for him.

“Yeah.” Miles nodded with a breathless laugh. “I guessed as much. I think Jess got involved, dug up some dirt on him.”

Nathan let out a bark of laughter. That might have been the best use of lawyer-power he’d ever heard. Okay, baked goods for Jess too.

Hell, they were all getting brownies.

“Thank you for telling me,” Nathan murmured a few moments later, resting his head against the crook of Miles’s neck. “I know it’s not easy for you to talk about that kind of stuff, but I really appreciate that you trust me enough to do so anyway.”

“’Course I trust you,” Miles replied as quietly as he pressed a gentle kiss to Nathan’s forehead. “It takes me a while to warm up to talking. Like when we first met. I was so scared of making a fool of myself in front of you, so I kind of just didn’t talk. I was so nervous.”

Nathan sat up sharply, looking at Miles with wide eyes and gaping mouth.

“You were nervous around me?” he squawked, and Miles frowned, like he wasn’t getting what was so shocking.

“Yes?” he said slowly. “I was pretty much hooked the moment you spilled your drink.”

“Oh my god,” Nathan groaned with an odd mix of laughter, both mortified and enamored. “You’re such a dork.”

Izzy stuck her head in through the door, choosing to forego knocking. “Hey.” She grinned, taking a cursory glance around the room. “Good, you’re not banging. A couple of us are going down to the Lumbard soon. You guys coming with?”

Nathan assumed it was some kind of bar, so he glanced at Miles for his thoughts on the matter. He only shrugged and turned his head to Nathan as though it was his call.

“Sure, we’re in,” Nathan said to Izzy, who grinned as if she had terrible things in mind for the two of them.