I tug on my shirt, a green silk button-down. My pants are tweed, and my shoes more practical than cute. “It’s all I have,” I offer, apologetically.

“And it’s more than good enough. You look hot.” He hooks an arm over my neck and pulls me in for a kiss, but then the light turns and he has to stomp on the gas.

I pull down the visor again. My hair is so messy. Why is it so messy? Because of the crazy sex you had following your shower with Curran, I remind myself.

Okay. But considering how busy and stressed I’ve been, we both were due for some crazy sex.

I pull on the strands, trying to settle them and wishing I’d remembered to pack a blow dryer in my overnight bag.

“Why are you nervous?”

I shut the visor, conceding that my hair is a lost cause. “I’m meeting your family.”

“Yeah, for beer and wings.” His eyes glance up, checking to make sure the rookie cop watching us is still behind us. “It’s not exactly Thanksgiving.”

No, it’s not, and in a way it makes me sad. Although Curran and I commit every free moment to each other, I can’t be positive we’re actually committed. No, that’s not exactly true. I’m very committed to him, but I can’t be certain the feeling is mutual.

I sigh. Committed. That’s a funny word considering I already know I love him.

He pulls into a large lot lined with deep cracks and littered with chunks of asphalt. Most of the vehicles are trucks exactly like his with the exception of the I BRAKE FOR PUSSY and HONK IF YOU’RE HORNY bumper stickers decorating the others.

The rookie parks in the row behind us, positioning his sedan so he can see us and the front door. I don’t move, waiting for Curran to come around and help me navigate over a particularly large pothole. “Wow. The winter’s been brutal on this lot,” I say when he reaches for me.

“Oh, no, Merve’s always looks like this,” he says. “The owner is a cheap bastard, but this place has the best wings in West Philly.”

The closer we get to the front door, the more I wonder if these famous wings are worth a serious case of hepatitis. Curran wasn’t joking when he said the bar wasn’t the most modern or well-cared-for building. Old green paint peels away from the wood storefront, and the surrounding window frame is grimy with dirt and sections of rust.

He motions to the peeling paint before reaching for the door handle. “Hey, that’s the same color as your shirt. How ’bout that—you match Merve’s.”

His hold on my hand tightens when I try to bolt. “Come on, babe. There’s my brother.”

I can’t see more than his back. Merve’s loud atmosphere is lined with wall-to-wall flannel-clad bodies. Yet as I peek over Curran’s shoulder, I realize there’s no missing his brother. A titan of a man carrying two pitchers jerks his head toward the rear. Curran weaves us to the right and left, around what seems to be the open casting call for the next Deliverance movie.

His brother reaches the large booth first, where a beautiful young woman is sitting, her long, springy curls cascading down her light blue sweater and willowy frame. Curran greets his brother, the two of them clasping hands in a friendly shake before Curran leans over the table to exchange kisses with the young woman. “Hey, Sofe. How you doin’, kid?” Curran says to her.

“I’m well, Curran.” Her eyes dance my way. “How are you?”

“Good. I want you to meet someone,” he tells them. Instead of introducing us, he turns back to me. “Want to sit, babe?”

“Ah, sure.” I slip off my coat and scoot into the seat opposite them. I smile and wait for Curran to speak.

He shifts out of his heavy leather jacket and adjusts in his seat again before motioning to his brother. “Tess, this is my brother Killian, and his fiancée, Sofia. This here’s Tess.”

Both seem surprised to see me and exchange glances, but Killian is kind enough to offer me his hand. “Nice to meet you, Tess.”

Sofia smiles politely and waves. “Hi, Tess.” Both she and Killian quiet, waiting, it seems, for Curran to say more.

He doesn’t, so the three of us go back to staring at one another.

I’m searching for something to say when Killian motions to the pitchers. “Want a beer?”

“I…”

I haven’t drunk beer since college, but I don’t want to be rude, so I almost say yes. Thankfully, Sofia seems to sense my hesitation. “I don’t really drink, either,” she says. She points to the pitcher closest to her as Killian pours a beer for Curran and then one for himself. “This is Diet Coke, if you’d like some.”

“Thank you,” I tell her. “I’m not one for beer.”

Sofia returns my smile, but when she reaches for the pitcher, Killian lifts it from her grasp. “I got it, princess,” he tells her.

She leans into him when he drapes an arm around her, easily and openly accepting his warmth. Since my chatty significant other has suddenly developed a case of vocals absenti, I try to strike up a conversation. “You seem very comfortable around each other. Have you been together long?”

She glances up at him, laughing when he grins at her. “Almost three years,” she says. “We’re getting married at the end of June.”

Curran nudges me, leaning in close, but speaking loud enough for Killian and Sofia to hear. “They make it like they haven’t been together long, but don’t let them fool you. Kill’s loved Sofe since before he got pubes.”

Although the lighting is dim, I catch Sofia’s blush despite her efforts to shield her face with her small hands. Curran’s blunt remark doesn’t seem to bother Killian, but I guess he’s used to it. “We’ve known each other since we were kids,” he says, taking a moment to kiss her forehead. “We grew up together.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” I say.

As the tension lifts, Curran’s shoulders relax. It occurs to me that despite what he claimed, he’s nervous about me meeting his family. “Do you want something else to drink besides Coke?” he asks me.

I think about it. “A martini would be nice.”

He smirks and yells to the bartender pouring drinks. “Hey, Sonny. Could I get a martini over here?”

“Fuck you, Curran,” the bartender responds.

“Sonny says they’re all out of top-shelf liquor,” Curran says casually, causing Killian and Sofia to laugh out loud.

I laugh, too. “All right, cop. I get it. It’s a ridiculous request given where we are.”

Curran grins. “You sayin’ Merve’s ain’t a classy joint?”

I place my hand over his forearm. Curran tilts forward and gives me a small peck on the lips, widening my smile, and I swear I could look into his eyes forever. Yet when I return my attention to Killian and Sofia, their dumbfounded expressions cause me to blush.

“Ah, perhaps we should order,” Sofia suggests. “They’re busy tonight and I’m not sure if something’s keeping Wren and Finn.”

“Good idea,” Curran says, snagging the waitress hustling by. “Millie, can you get us next?”

“Curran, we’re down a waitress. Could you order at the bar? It’ll be ready faster, and then Sonny could bring it out.”

“Fuck you,” Sonny responds.

The waitress rolls her eyes. “Just be a dear and order, Curran. I’ll make sure it gets out to youz.”

Curran looks to us. “Wings, more beer, and nachos sound good?”

“Yeah. A few orders of pierogies, too,” Killian answers, reaching for his wallet. “I think it’s their special.”

Curran holds out a hand. “My turn. You got us last time.” To me he says, “I’ll be right back, babe. I’ll also see if Sonny can mix something up for you, okay?”

Although I nod, I almost offer to go with him, feeling nervous about being alone with his family. In the end, I realize I should try to connect with them. Curran means so much to me, and they clearly mean everything to him. Besides, they seem like good people, just a little surprised to see us together.

I wait for Curran to step out of earshot before speaking. “I take it Curran didn’t mention I was coming?”