The takeover tl swan11/26/2022 ![]() ![]() “How am I boring? Name one time I have been boring.” Tristan flicks the paper down in disgust. “That was a recently added point, Claire. “Show me where it says that on the list.” “I’m getting a bigger car,” he continues. “I’m not doing that anyway,” Harry cuts him off. “You don’t have to share a bedroom with anyone.” “You don’t have to move to another country and leave your pets homeless and vulnerable.” “It’s true you are.” He bounces in his chair excitedly. He unfolds the paper and begins to read from the list of points he has written. I roll my lips to hide my smile at his shenanigans. “I have prepared a list of my attributes.” “That’s a very good question, Claire,” he says as he takes a piece of paper out of his suit coat pocket. “And why should I pick you to be my boyfriend?” I ask. “Well.” I smile at the gorgeous, conniving man beside me. “Or not,” Tristan mutters under his breath. “I kind of liked the idea of having more kids around.” I forbid it,” he whispers through gritted teeth. You are not going out with anyone with kids, Mom. “Girls?” Harry gasps as he chokes on his water. The blood drains from Harry’s face as he listens. “They’ll also eat all of the food, and they won’t have a skateboard or bike at your house, so you will have to share all of your things.” “Those other kids will use a lot of internet, maybe all the data.” ” He pauses, as if thinking, for added effect. “Because Fletcher is an adult, and he needs his own room. “Why does Fletcher get his own room?” he demands. Harry’s face is getting redder and redder he’s about to blow. So Harry and Patrick will have to share a bedroom from now on.” “But whenever he comes over, he will bring his children, and they will have to have a bedroom to stay in. This isn’t what I thought he was going to say. “You could meet someone new who has kids.” ![]() He will bring the Anderson name into disrepute.” He wears a pink sweatband around his head to Pilates.” “I’m getting a headache,” Harry says as he holds his temples. Tristan narrows his eyes, and I bite my lip to hide my giggle. “You could go out with Pilates Paul,” he offers. “What are the other choices?” I ask as I play along. I’m calling Grandma she won’t like this at all.” “I don’t know Paris may be good for us.” I smile. “I am not moving to Paris,” Harry snaps in an outrage. “And of course, Muff Cat and Woofy can’t move to Paris, so they would have to move in with me.” “However, that would mean that you all have to move to France.” He sips his water with a casual shrug. “You can go out with that man you met in Paris.” He pours us each a glass of water from the table jug. “Yes.” He carries on with his sales pitch. “And as I see it, you have four choices,” he continues. I have no words this man is the living end. “Someone to go to the movies and out to dinner with. “Well, you did say you were ready to have a friend again,” Tristan says. Patrick is smiling hopefully, Harry is glaring at Tristan, and Fletcher looks like he’s swallowed a fly. What in the world? This is not taking it slow at all. My mouth falls open as I stare at Tristan. “What a stupid question-as if she would go out with you, anyway.” ![]() I would like to be your boyfriend, Claire Anderson. “Like on a date?” Harry whispers, mortified. “I was wondering if you would like to go out with me next weekend.” “Yes.” He straightens his tie, as if preparing himself for something. “There’s a reason I wanted to have dinner tonight, Claire,” he says loudly so that everyone can hear what he says. We all sit down, and as if he has been waiting all night to say it, Tristan blurts out. “To save arguments, I’m sitting next to Mom.” “I want to sit next to Tristan,” Patrick whines as he taps the chair beside him. “Sit here.” Fletcher pats the chair next to him. It’s hardly a Miles booking, is it?” he huffs, as if outraged. “There are four Andersons and only one Miles. “Hello, booking for Miles, please,” he says. We get to the restaurant, and the girl at the desk smiles broadly. Maybe he won’t be so insistent on doing the family-dinner thing in the future. It’s fun watching him fight to hold his tongue. The boys whine and moan about how squashed and uncomfortable they are, and with every mile we travel, I can see Tristan’s face becoming a little more red. “It will be fine this one time,” he snaps. “Great, they don’t fit,” he mutters under his breath as he slams the door shut. Their shoulders are all bunched up, and their knees are around their chins. We watch as Fletcher squeezes his way into the back seat. “You get in the middle, Tricky,” Tristan directs. ![]()
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