“Fine,” Stu grunted. “Andrea, you aren’t a veggie, are ya?” he asked while Lee snickered at him, crooning, “Oooooh, Andrea, is it? I’m fairly sure her name is Andie, ya posh prick.”

Stu got him in a headlock for a second. “I call her Andrea, so shut it.”

His attention came to me again once he was finished roughhousing with Lee. I shook my head. “No, I’m not a vegetarian.”

He turned back to his brother. “See, I told you.”

A few minutes later the food was served, and Stu returned to his seat next to me. I didn’t speak much, but that was mainly because everyone here was so chatty that I could hardly get a word in. I startled when Stu put his hand on my thigh midway through the meal, mainly because I hadn’t been expecting it. His fingertips were dangerously close to my inner thigh, and all of a sudden I wasn’t hungry for food anymore.

I flicked my gaze to his, widening my eyes as a message for him to quit touching me. He didn’t look at me, but his lips twitched once so I knew he was aware he was pushing his luck. Still, it didn’t stop him from moving his fingers back and forth in a caressing motion. They danced briefly over the apex of my thighs, and I sucked in a harsh breath.

I swallowed, glancing across the table to find Lee studying me. For a second I thought he knew what was going on under the table, but I realised I was wrong when he spoke, his curious blue eyes on my ring.

“You married, Andie?”

My throat went dry as sandpaper. Finally, I summoned up the will to reply. “Oh, no my husband passed away.”

Lee’s expression sobered as he swallowed a gulp of beer, his gaze going to Stu for a second. For some reason he didn’t look happy.

“I’m sorry,” said Karla, her voice soft. “Was it recent?”

I knew why she asked that. Obviously people would think Mark’s death wasn’t too long ago if I was still wearing my ring. I shook my head, embarrassed. “No, it’s been just over four years.”

An awkward silence filled the table, and believe me, when you were dealing with a bunch as loud as the Cross family, silence was certainly unusual.

“How’d he go?” Lee asked, his arm around his wife’s shoulders as he levelled me with a concerned look. It was almost . . . protective.

“Cancer. Lymphoma,” I answered and then downed a long swig of beer.

“My condolences. Cancer’s a fucking shitty way to go.”

I let out a breath. “Yeah, it is.”

Everyone was watching me then, which was probably why I felt the urge to escape. Rising from my seat, I said, “I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

Stu made a move to follow me. “I’ll show you where—”

I stayed him with a hand. “It’s fine. I’m sure I can find my own way.”

“First door at the top of the stairs,” said Lee, and I shot him a thin but grateful smile. When I was safely ensconced in the bathroom, I leaned back against the door and exhaled deeply. My face was red, and my heart was beating too fast. I couldn’t take their pitying looks. I hated it when people felt sorry for me. It often made me feel sad all over again, made me wish he was still alive.

I stared down at my hand and twisted the ring around and around in a way that soothed my nerves. Why couldn’t people just accept the fact that I still wore it? It was just a piece of jewellery and it wasn’t like me wearing it was causing anyone else harm.

But then I thought of Stu in the car and how he’d been upset by my response to his question about wearing someone else’s ring in the future. Maybe I was hurting him and I didn’t even realise it. But surely Stu wasn’t thinking that far into the future with us. He barely knew me, and I didn’t really know him either. Was this about the ring and its place in my life, or the future I had never considered before? Could I remove it? Would I consider another man’s ring on my finger?

I ran my hands under the cold tap, took a few deep breaths, then headed back downstairs to re-join the others. I could hear their voices as I entered the kitchen, and when my name was mentioned I paused just shy of the doorway to listen.

“She’s clearly vulnerable, Stu, and seems like a good person. I just wouldn’t like to see her get hurt.” This was Lee.

“I’m not going to hurt her,” Stu grunted his reply.

“How do you know? You haven’t been yourself for a while now. You’re vulnerable, too.”

“Fuck off.”

“Don’t swear in front of the kids,” Sophie scolded.

“Sorry, but he needs to mind his own business,” Stu said.

“You’re my brother. You are my business. And maybe she’s not the only one I’m worried about. You’ve been through the ringer yourself. What if she hurts you?”

“She won’t, because like I already told you, we’re just friends. Now can you please shut up? She’ll be back down any second.”

“Fine, but we’re not done discussing this,” Lee said.

“Did you make your baked Alaska for dessert?” Karla asked, clearly trying to distract her husband.

“Course I did,” Lee answered. “I know it’s your favourite.”

I waited another minute or two before stepping out into the garden to make sure they didn’t suspect me of eavesdropping. I was still self-conscious though, especially since it seemed Lee could see right through my façade. But how did he think I could hurt Stu?

“You all right?” Stu asked quietly as I sat back down beside him.

I nodded. “I’m fine.”

He studied me, his eyes tracing my features. “My family can be a nosy lot when the mood takes them. Don’t feel like you need to answer their questions. Just do like I do and tell ’em to eff off.”

I giggled softly at this and Stu smiled, seemingly happy he’d made me laugh. The rest of the meal wasn’t so bad, and no one else asked me any personal questions. About two beers later I was sitting with Karla, Reya, and Sophie. The brothers took turns shooting hoops at the basketball net affixed to the wall at the other end of the garden. There was some kind of wager going on, but I was too busy chatting with the girls to know what was at stake.

Sophie, who had just put the kids to bed, was telling us about the guy she was currently seeing. “He’s just . . . so lovely,” she beamed. “And he doesn’t seem at all put off by the fact that I have children because he already has one of his own from a previous relationship.”