“So? You’re always bickering.”
“Yes, Star,” I hissed. “But this time, I slept in the guest room and he wasn’t there at breakfast this morning.”
If I didn’t have my sisters’ attention by that point, that earned it—each of their heads whipped around to face me.
“You slept in the guest room?!” Inessa gasped like I’d told her Aidan had burned downanotherchurch.
“I did.”
Star’s tone promised a brutal butchering. “Do I need to get my special scissors out?”
Ah, there was my sister from another mister—reassuring and terrifying me in one fell swoop. “No. I still like his penis fully functioning, Star.”
“So, why did you not sleep in your bedroom? I thought you guys didn’t do that?”
“We don’t.” Aoife’s question had me swallowing down tears.
“Holy shit, is she crying?” Inessa asked Camille.
My hand shook as I trickled it along my lower lash. “It’s fine. We’ll hash it out later.”
“No, it’s not. Is there anything we can do? I could get Finn to shake some sense into him? Aidan actually listens to him.” Aoife leaned over to pat my hand. “Or do you want some brownies?”
I sucked in my bottom lip. “Your browniesdofix everything.”
Aoife snagged her phone. “I’ll have some delivered.”
“Thanks, Eef. You’re the best.”
“I try.” She winked at me before tapping out a couple messages to someone on her staff, I presumed. “Okay, so what’s going on?”
“I’m writing an article and he won’t help me.” There, that was oblique enough.
“What do you need help with? Can I do anything?” Star dragged the tray of club sandwich triangles and plopped it on my knee. “In the meantime, eat your feelings or Iwillget out my special scissors. You know I won’t let him make you cry. Remember Jersey Vorul.”
“Love you too.” Ignoring her scowl, I grabbed a sandwich. “There’s a place in Lower Manhattan. I’ve heard rumors about them hosting fights there.”
“Wait,” Inessa butted in. “Who’s Jersey Vorul?”
“Singer. He toured with Daddy.”
Star cackled.
“Oh boy, what happened?” Camille inquired with a smile.
Admittedly, that cackle was contagious.
“That tour was his big break. Then he came onto Vana and I ruined his career.”
“Ouch. Intense,” Aoife muttered, eyes wide.
“I was thirteen.”
Her tone did a 180. “That asshole!”
“That’s why you’ve never heard of him,” I tacked on dryly. “Star did what Star does best.”
Smugly, Star demanded, “What kind of fights in Lower Manhattan?”
