His dark hair is styled down with gel or whatever product to look like Fred Flintstone, adding his own twist with his exposed sleeve tattoos. The guys keep snickering. “Shut up, LuLu,” Julian snaps.
Luca holds up his hands. “It’s cute.”
Julian glares. “Shut up.”
Luca snickers again behind his beer, wearing his firefighting gear like an ass. “Real original,” I mutter.
He shrugs. “I was working.”
“Put me down! Put me down!” Grace wiggles around. “Auntie Lana!”
I crouch down, and as soon as Grace is on her feet, she’s sprinting and making my heart race with the fear she might trip and get hurt.
I scoff and take a sip of my beer. Christian chuckles and I wave my finger at his shirt. “And what the hell is this?”
He smiles and looks down to admire his white T-shirt that says,My Girlfriend is Hot. “You like it?”
“That isn’t a fucking costume,” Julian says in his Fred Flintstone costume. “It’s a T-shirt.”
Christian shrugs. “I like it.”
“Does Lana like it?” Luca asks.
“She’s learning to love it.” Christian laughs with a shrug.
“No I’m not!” Lana shouts from somewhere.
Christian shrugs and drinks from the glass bottle of Coca-Cola. “Well,Ilike it.” He grins proudly. “And it’s true.”
“You’re so in love it’s disgusting,” Nico says in his Fransisco Lindor baseball uniform costume. “I’m jealous.”
Luca rolls his eyes and walks away from us.
“He’s still on that then,” I mutter.
Nicolas shrugs, swirling his beer around. “I let him be.”
“You know you’re both adults, right,” Julian says. “And just because she’s his sister doesn’t mean?—”
“I know that.” Nico groans. “He just…”
“Speaking of adults,” Christian says, changing the touchy subject. “How’s Natalia?”
I groan and chug the rest of my drink, tossing the bottle into the recycling bin. “You’re such a gossip.”
“Lana tells me everything.” Christian shrugs. “It’s not like you’re very subtle, RoRo.”
“I hate you.”
“You haven’t been subtle since high school.” Nico laughs and leaves, hurrying toward Isabelle as she struggles to set up a tripod for a group photo.
“Andhetalks about subtlety,” Julian grumbles, making Christian laugh beside me as he closes the grill top.
“Pictures!” Isabelle shouts.
“Baby!” Lana calls out for Christian who promptly sprints to her side with a polaroid camera and phone, ready to take the girls’ pictures.
“Come on, kids,” Christian says over his shoulder. “Picture time.”
