OH, HELL YES. MATT was finally going to get more information about Bridget. He might never get to touch her in the very nonplatonic way that he wanted to touch her, but he just might get to know her. And that was almost as good. Although spending time with Bridget around other people was bound to be difficult. He had enough trouble training his face not to do a sappy puppy-dog thing whenever he looked at her. It would be all the more difficult if he knew more about her. Like where she grew up and how she interacted with her family. Worth the risk.
He liked the trimmed lawn and the neat brick house. It looked so normal. So far from what he’d grown up with. The back of his neck was damp with sweat as they approached the door to her childhood home, and not only from the August heat.
Before she fit her key into the door, she said, “My parents were divorced for like twenty years, and now they’re back together. It’s weird, and we don’t talk about it because we’re Irish. We don’t talk about a lot of things—race, religion, politics, and sports now that we have a Notre Dame–Michigan rivalry in the house. We save it all up and yell at each other once a year over the holidays. And then we pretend that it’s just about the food.” The words came out in a rush, and Matt wanted to reach out and pat her on the back. Like always, he stopped himself. It wouldn’t be appropriate. Why was she so nervous?
“It’s okay.” Maybe sharing something about his fucked-up family would make her feel better. “My parents are still married, but I’ve seen them kiss maybe twice.”
“Count yourself lucky. Now that they’re back together, we might be walking into some grossness.”
“It’ll only be gross for you. I don’t know them at all.”
She looked back over her shoulder, and her mouth twisted with a hint of humor. Just a little bit of her Instagram smile. His insides rioted with the need to touch her. The need to have her want him to kiss her. “Trust me, it will be just as gross for you.”
They entered the house, which was brighter than he expected it to be. As much as he wanted to linger at the wall of photos, he followed Bridget toward the back of the house. When they got to the kitchen, an older couple were sitting at the dine-in table, next to each other.
When he looked at her mother, he saw where Bridget got the eyes and the cheekbones. The man, presumably Bridget’s father, stood up and eyed Matt warily.
“Mom, Dad, this is Matt Kido.” Both of them extended their hands for him to shake.
“Mrs. Nolan,” he said as he shook the older woman’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“It’s Molly, please. Mrs. Nolan was my mother-in-law.” She pulled a face, which endeared her to Matt. Like Bridget, there was something inherently genuine about Molly.
Bridget’s father tried to crush all the bones in Matt’s hand, and he barely kept a grimace off his face. “Mr. Nolan.”
The other man grunted.
“Dad, he’s my intern. Could you not break his hand?” Bridget sighed. “We have a lot to do this weekend.”
“But you can’t miss the party.” Molly sounded as though it was a personal affront.
Bridget ignored her. “Can I get you a sparkling water, Matt?”
He nodded at Bridget. “Sure.” Although he would have understood if she’d wanted to leave, he liked seeing how her family interacted. They were so different from his. When his family was all alone, they were normal. But because of who they were and the fact that people always wanted something from them, they had to be more careful in the presence of outsiders.
“Take a seat,” Mr. Nolan grunted.
“Call him Sean,” Molly said as he did so. “So, you’re an intern with the state’s attorney’s office?” He felt the woman sizing him up. From his research—and after the first day at the office, he’d done research—he’d found out that she was a curator at the Museum of Contemporary Art. She probably knew his parents, but he wasn’t about to make the connection for her. A connection with his family wouldn’t do anything to further the cause of Molly continuing to like him. His parents were, technically, part of the problem, even though they were passable philanthropists—mostly for the tax write-offs.
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I’m going into my third year at the University of Chicago.”
“And you didn’t want to go to a firm?” Sean Nolan asked.
Bridget put a glass of sparkling water with a slice of lime on the table and sat down next to him. “Matt’s not a money-grubbing jackass like Chris.”
He’d never heard her speak quite so harshly, and she’d let slip a bit of a South Side accent. He liked it. But he also realized that he knew even less about her than he’d thought. Everything about her at the office was a façade. And that made him sad at the same time that he wanted to get to know her after he was done being her intern.
The front door opened and loud voices drifted in—two men and one woman. All three walked into the kitchen, and Matt figured that now was as good a time as any to meet Bridget’s entire family. She caught his gaze and rolled her eyes at him.
He stood up and shook hands with both her brothers as she introduced them. Luckily, neither of them seemed to be as irked by his existence as their father had been. And Bridget’s future sister-in-law, Hannah, looked downright hopeful about his presence.
HANNAH NEEDED TO WIPE that fucking twinkle out of her eye. Bridget recognized and feared that twinkle. That twinkle meant trouble. Her future sister-in-law was like her Frenchie with a bone when she got a bright idea in her head that resulted in a twinkle in her eye.
“Matt’s my intern.” Bridget moved toward the door. “And we have to leave.”
“You’re not even going to stay for dinner? It’ll be so nice that we’re all together.” Bridget’s mother sounded pained, even though they hadn’t had a family dinner for two decades before last year. All of a sudden they were a family again? “And your nice young man is certainly starving.”
Bridget shot a look at Matt that hopefully said, Let’s get out of here before she just up and adopts you. On the other hand, an evening with her family might leave him not caring about his parents who never kiss.
She nearly sang with relief when Matt looked everyone in the eye and said, “We really do have a long night ahead of us, and I’m good with takeout.” In that moment, he was her knight in shining armor. Though he seemed weirdly excited to stay up all night working on the case, she wasn’t in a position to question it right now.
“And you’re sure you’re going to skip the weekend?” Hannah asked, pouting at Bridget, which prompted another eye roll. She was going to sprain something if her family didn’t cut it out.
Though her brothers might be okay with her missing Las Vegas—because they knew Bridget would spend the whole weekend trying to get them to take stupid drunken pictures—she knew Hannah wouldn’t let her off the hook quite so easily. Before she could protest, Bridget said, “Yeah, we have to work on this sexual assault case. It’s important to get justice for the victim.”
Her future sister-in-law had to understand that.
Hannah opened her mouth, closed it, opened it, and said, “You’ll be working all weekend? With Matt?” She didn’t look upset at that idea at all. In fact, Bridget detected a subtle eyebrow waggle.
Bridget narrowed her gaze at her future sister-in-law, who apparently had a death wish. “Yes, because I know how to live.”
Hannah just shrugged. Apparently, she thought that prepping for a sexual assault trial with an intern she supervised was a recipe for romance. Bridget shook her head while Hannah mouthed, “Call me.”
Her family had already been insufferable. Growing up mostly with three men who had pictures next to the definition of “dude” was bad enough. Now her mother was back in the picture and ready to make up for the time she’d missed out on parenting teenage Bridget. And she had a matchmaking future sister-in-law.
Matt chose that moment to shoot another devastating smirk her way. “Gino’s East?”
Fuck. Maybe Hannah had the right idea, and he really was perfect.