Chapter 23
Lainie
“Everyone, this is Keeton.” I’ve pulled the poor man into a living room that’s crowded with Palmer women.
“Hi, Keeton,” they all say simultaneously, like this is some sort of twelve-step meeting.
“Hi, ladies,” Keeton says smiling.
Starting with Keely, I begin the introductions. “Keeton, you know Keely.”
“Yup.”
“She’s the baby.” I point to Violet. “Her twin, Violet.”
“Twins?”
“We know. We look nothing alike,” mutters Keely. “Violet got all the good stuff. Height, long legs, great hair, perfect teeth, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.”
That comment surprises me a little and I think Violet’s a bit shocked too since Keely has traits that none of the rest of us do. Adorable traits.
“Thank you, Keels,” says Violet blushing.
I’ve got to keep going but I’d love to ask what that was all about. Keely doesn’t normally dispense compliments freely. “Next is my middle sister, Sadie.”
“The bakery owner?”
“I am. Have you been?” Sadie asks Keeton.
“Unfortunately, no. I plan to though. I hear my girl likes your sweets.”
“Ah, man, you fuckin’ rock,” says Keely as she starts drinking another glass of wine.
“Slow down, lush,” mutters Sadie. A comment that makes Keely throw her head back and cackle.
Ignoring all of that, I keep on going. “And finally,” I point like a game show hostess, “This is Agatha.”
Keeton steps around the table holding his hand out for her to shake. One by one, he does the same to the remaining sisters. When he gets to the youngest, Keely refuses his hand, instead standing up on her coffee table, making them close to the same height. Keeton’s still taller. “I need a hug, big guy.”
Uh oh.
Hesitant, Keeton steps close to her and wraps his arms around her. Patting her back gently, he pulls away saying, “Nice to meet all of you.”
“That hug sucked,” mutters Keely. “Just sayin’.”
Keeton laughs but returns to my side. “Sorry,” I whisper.
He kisses my forehead whispering in response, “You’ve met Eric, right?”
I giggle and lay my head on his shoulder. He gets it.
“So,” says a drunk Agatha. “You’re in a gang?”
The room erupts in laughter as Keeton looks down at me, running his hand through his short hair.
“Aggie, no,” I say softly, “He designs and builds custom motorcycles.”
“Oh,” she takes a big gulp from her glass. “Right.”
