I exhale slowly, considering my options. Kate in this mood is immovable. She's been my only family since our parents died, and despite her often overwhelming protectiveness, everything she does comes from love.
"Fine," I concede. "But Julian comes too."
"Oh, I'm counting on it." The corner of her mouth twitches. "I want to understand exactly what's happening here."
"It's not a deposition, Kate. It's dinner."
"Of course not." Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Just a friendly meal with my brother, his best friend, and the woman they're both sleeping with. Perfectly normal family gathering."
I wince at her bluntness. "Could you at least try to be open-minded? Camille's had a rough time lately."
"Haven't we all." Kate steps closer, reaching up to straighten my tie with the automatic gesture of someone who's been trying to “fix” things for me my entire life. "Seven o'clock. Don't be late."
After she leaves, I sink back into my chair, pulling out my phone. I need to let Camille and Julian know. My thumbs hover over the screen as I debate how much to say. Should I prepare Camille for Kate's inevitable interrogation? Or would that just make her more nervous?
I settle for directness:
Change of plans for tonight. Dinner at my sister's. She wants to meet Camille. I'll pick you both up at 6:30. Sorry about this.
Julian responds almost immediately:Your sister? Christ. This should be fun.
Camille's reply takes longer:Of course. Looking forward to meeting her!
Camille has no idea what’s she’s in for. Nobody looks forward to meeting Kate, especially not under these circumstances. I send back a heart emoji, a simple gesture that feels inadequate for the storm I might be sending her into.
Kate has always been protective to a fault. After our parents died, she put her own grief aside to become both mother and father to me. She postponed her career, adjusted her life, made sure I never felt alone. I owe her everything. But this—Camille, Julian, the unorthodox relationship we're building—this is mine. And I'm not sure I'm ready to have it dissected under Kate's unforgiving gaze.
Kate's brownstone stands like a fortress at the end of the tree-lined street, its windows glowing amber in the early evening light.
In the back seat of the car, Camille's hands twist in her lap, the only outward sign of her anxiety. She's wearing a simple navy dress that somehow manages to conceal her pregnancy. Julian sits beside her, his usual easy demeanor replaced with a tightness around his mouth that tells me he's already bracing for battle.
"Your sister lives alone in this entire brownstone?" Camille asks, her voice soft with awe as we pull up to the curb.
"Kate doesn't do anything halfway," I reply, trying to keep my tone light. "Including hosting intimidating dinner parties."
Julian snorts. "She's going to try to eat you alive, Cami."
"Julian," I warn, throwing him a sharp look.
"What? I'm just being honest." He turns to Camille, his expression softening. "Kate Vale is brilliant, terrifying, and has made grown men cry in courtrooms across Manhattan. But," he adds with a wink, "we’ve got your back, babe."
Camille takes a deep breath. "I can handle it. I'm not afraid of strong women."
But I notice how she fidgets with her dress after we climb out of the car, the nervous gesture betraying her confidence. I place my hand on her back, a silent reassurance as we approach the front steps.
"Remember," I murmur, "she's just protective. This isn't personal."
The door swings open before we can ring the bell. Kate stands in the entranceway, backlit by the warm glow of herfoyer chandelier. She's changed from her usual work attire to an elegant black dress, but the effect is no less intimidating.
"Right on time," she says, stepping aside to let us in. Her eyes pass over Julian with familiar acknowledgment before landing on Camille. The assessment is quick but thorough, taking in everything from Camille's simple pearl earrings to her heels.
"You must be Camille," Kate says, extending her hand. "I've heard so much about you."
"All good things, I hope," Camille replies, shaking Kate's hand with admirable steadiness.
Kate's smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Well, that would depend on who's doing the talking, wouldn't it?"
Julian steps forward, brushing a kiss against Kate's cheek. "Always a pleasure, Kate. Still terrorizing the New York bar association?"
