“No way.” Bria shook her head. “She was so excited when you called to say he was coming, too.”
“Are you guys talking about Mom?” Lisel slid up next to me, casting our mother a speculative glance. “It’s not just me, right? She’s all—I don’t know, snippy and shit.”
“Maybe she’s worried about Honey.” Bria reached for the basket of cornbread and started piling it into a clean container. “Mom was really shaken up when Honey was in the hospital. You know how close they are—even though Honey is Dad’s mom. I think maybe seeing that she couldn’t quite handle making Thanksgiving dinner this year upset Mom.”
“What are you three whispering about over there?” My mother crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you finished with the leftovers yet? I’ve got the dishwasher loaded, but I need someone to dry the dishes that have to be hand washed.”
“I’ll do it.” As the oldest, I felt it was my responsibility to take on the job and brave my mother’s bad mood.
“No, that’s okay.” Bria jumped into the fray. “I got it. Ky, why don’t you go see what Nicky’s doing? Dad and Handsome might be trying to indoctrinate him into American football. Go save the boy before he’s sucked into their obsession. Lisel and I will handle everything here.”
I hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“Go before we change our minds.” Lisel gave me a small shove.
“The girls are right,” my mother added. “Nicky’s your guest.”
My forehead knit together. “Since when is Nicky a guest?”
“Oh, good Lord, Kyra, when you’re talking about a prince from England, he’s always a guest.” Bria rolled her eyes. “Go. Or else I will, and you can stay here and do dishes.”
“All right, all right. I’m going.” I pushed open the swinging kitchen door and wandered through the dining room into the living room, where all the men were gathered. My dad and Handsome were on the sofa, their eyes glued to the huge screen on the wall. I paused long enough to see who was winning—it was Dallas by ten—before I turned in a circle, taking in my great-uncle and great-aunt, my cousins and Honey, who was reading something on her telephone.
Someone was missing.
“Where’s Nicky?” With my hands on my hips, I raised my eyebrows and glared at my father. “What did you do to him, Daddy?”
“Why are you looking at me?” My dad wore an expression of offended innocence. “He said it was too nice an afternoon to be inside and went out onto the deck. He told us to send you his way when you were finished in the kitchen. I think he said something about a walk on the beach.”
“Oh.” I craned my neck to look out, where my boyfriend was indeed leaning on the railing of the deck that overlooked the sand. “I guess I’ll join him, then.”
Handsome beamed at me and patted my hand. “Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll give you the play-by-play of the football game when you get back.”
“Thanks.” I bent down to kiss his whiskery cheek. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“Take a sweater, Kyra.” Honey pointed to my soft gray hoodie, draped over the back of a nearby chair. “It’s chilly out, especially by the water.”
“And if some photographer spots you, the hood will come in handy,” added my dad.
With a sigh, I scooped up the sweatshirt and opened the French doors that led to the deck.
Nicky turned toward me, and the smile on his face warmed me more than any jacket might. “Hello, there.” He stretched out a hand. “I was hoping a pretty girl like you might come along.”
“Must be your lucky day.” Taking his hand, I allowed him to tug me toward his body and turned up my face for his kiss. “I heard something about a beach walk?”
“If you think that sounds good.” He linked our fingers. “I ate so much at the dinner table that I feel like if I don’t move around, I might just fall asleep on the sofa.”
“How could you think about sleeping when football’s on television?” I pretended horror as we maneuvered the wooden steps that led to the beach. “I mean, theCowboysare playing, Nicky. One doesn’t sleep through that.”
“Of course not.” He managed to keep a straight face. “I meant after the game was over. Naturally.”
“That’s better.” I bumped my shoulder against his and stood on my toes to kiss his cheek.
“I hope you don’t mind the idea of a walk.” Nicky tightened his hand on mine. “It’s not too cold, is it?”
“Nah. The sun’s warm, even though it’s going to set pretty soon.” I kicked at a bit of dried seaweed in my path. “And it’s still not as raw as home’s been lately.”
“Home.” Nicky’s voice took on a timber of contentment. “Do you know how glad it makes me to hear you call London home?”
