“No, you can’t.”
After another minute of exchanged shouts and some spelling, Miguel got the message.
“So what do you think of the house, Riley?” he barked.
“It’s very…dark,” she observed.
“Too much sunlight is damaging to the skin,” Marie sniffed and she studied Riley’s pores for evidence of a subpar skin care regimen.
“All this shouting is giving me a headache.”
They all turned to look at the woman who appeared in the foyer. She wore a pantsuit and had her light hair scraped back in a tight, no-nonsense bun. She had frown lines from what looked like years of life’s constant disappointments. Judging by how thin and pointy she was, Riley guessed maybe she was just constantly hungry.
“Your brother was just introducing us to his…friend,” Marie said to the hungry woman.
“Mygirlfriend,” Nick corrected. “We live together.”
Nick’s sister sent a fine mist of red wine into the air. “You? A girlfriend? Ha!”
“Honestly, Carmela,” their mother said.
“This is why we can’t have nice things,” Miguel muttered, producing a handkerchief from his back pocket and bending down to clean up the wine spit. “I told you we shoulda moved to Florida, Marie.”
Riley rolled her lips together and tried not to laugh. Maybe Nick hadn’t been exaggerating when he said his family was weird.
“Riley, this is my sister, Carmela. Carm, my girlfriend, Riley.”
Carmela’s frown lines deepened. “You look familiar,” she said accusingly.
“I’m sorry?” It sounded to Riley like Carmela was expecting an apology for that.
“Riley’s been in the news this summer,” Nick said.
Really not wanting that particular topic to come up, she stepped on his foot. He grunted but got the message. “Ow, okay. So who’s playing bartender?”
“Carmela, get your brother and his friend a drink,” Marie ordered.
“Girlfriend,” Nick cut in.
“Tell him to get his own damn drink,” Carmela snapped back. “Or is your favorite kid too good to pour himself a glass of wine?”
“Shoulda moved to Florida,” Miguel muttered to the floor.
Somewhere a bell chimed.
Miguel straightened from his obsessive floor polishing. “That’ll be the pork tenderloin.” He bustled off in the direction of the chiming.
Marie sighed. “The man can’t hear a word we say, but an oven timer goes off, and he’s suddenly got Superman ears.”
“Let’s get this over with,” Nick said cheerfully, steering Riley by the shoulders.
Instead of the kitchen, where the majority of the Thorn family socializing happened, Nick led her into a formal dining room with a large window overlooking the river and Harrisburg’s skyline.
She was so wowed by the view, she didn’t notice the other occupants of the room until it was too late.
“Riley?”
Shit.In the past two months, she’d learned it was a very bad thing when strangers already knew her name when she walked into a room.
