“Don’t murder him, Nicky!”
“You have the right to remain silent,” Kellen barked.
“Get off my husband, Nicky Santiago!”
* * *
It wasthe weirdest pajama party Nick had ever crashed.
Riley was in plaid girl boxers and a sweatshirt. Kellen had at least had the decency to pull on a pair of sweatpants but was still shirtless. Sesame had added a matching robe over her lingerie. The man she’d claimed was her husband wore a pair of expensive jeans and a buttonless button-down. Apparently Sesame had ripped the buttons off in her excitement.
“Would you at least put on a shirt, man?” Nick asked Kellen.
His friend didn’t acknowledge his very reasonable request.
“So you two are married,” Riley said, accepting the mug of hot chocolate Tommy handed her. The guy had made a batch of homemade hot chocolate for everyone, including Bob.
“It’s true! This is my Tommy,” Sesame said, plopping herself down into the man’s lap and hugging him around the neck.
Tommy clocked in at an inch or two under six feet and gave off rich nerd vibes. He had thick, dark hair that curled at the ends and not much fat or muscle to his frame. Nick knew this thanks to getting a little too up close and personal with him.
“I’m sure you all have a lot of questions,” Sesame began as if she were addressing a class of second graders.
“I’ll start,” Nick volunteered. “Did this asshole kidnap you and force you to marry him? Is this that Patty Hearst thing where you think you’re in love with your captor but actually you’re just brainwashed? Are you legally married or just like cult-leader-polyamory-in-a-bunker married? Does he really have four kids that you thought were yours, and are they waiting in a minivan somewhere down the block? How did he get in here without Weber hearing him? Why is he just now showing up? And where does your brother keep the good liquor?”
Sesame laughed nervously. “Well, that’s a lot of questions.”
Without a word, Kellen got up, walked into the laundry room, and returned with a bottle of scotch.
“Dalmore Twelve. Nice,” Tommy said, his head bobbing in approval.
“Shut up,” Kellen said to him.
Burt snored under the table.
“That’s no way to talk to your brother-in-law,” Sesame chided.
“Christ.” Kellen unscrewed the top and drank straight from the bottle.
Riley got up and started opening cabinets until she found Kellen’s glasses.
“Let me start at the beginning,” Sesame said, shifting in Tommy’s lap. The man looked besotted, but sociopaths and serial killers could be pretty good actors.
“I met Tommy a few months before… Well. Before I went away,” Sesame began. “I knew Mom wouldn’t approve, and Tommy had a few teeny, tiny run-ins with the law. So I knew you might not be too happy either, Kelly.”
“I was selling fake ADHD meds to drunk college students,” Tommy chimed in. “They were actually Canadian Tic Tacs.”
“Kelly here ran every guy I ever dated through the system,” Sesame explained to Riley when she returned with some glasses.
“So you kept your relationship a secret,” Riley guessed as she poured two glasses of scotch. She handed one to Nick and slid the other in front of Kellen.
Sesame nodded. “I knew he was the one from the moment he ordered extra dipping sauce for our bread sticks at Olive Garden.”
“Oh, please,” Kellen muttered. He ignored the glass Riley put in front of him and picked up the bottle instead.
“Well, if no one’s gonna drink this,” Tommy said, helping himself to the second glass.
“One night we were at a party, and there was a little misunderstanding.”
