“I think she means no to talking to Paris,” Arlo clarifies.
“So you two are dating now?” Autumn sits up and Seraphina cocks her head.
Floor, swallow me whole. Right now, please. Just open up and suck me down.
My mouth gapes open like a fish.
“Aww, sis, you’re speechless.” I’m going to body slam my brother if he keeps talking.
Arlo lays a gentle hand on my shoulder, squeezing once in comfort. However, I’m not feeling comfortable. I’m feeling even more anxious because that simple touch is like a red flag to the vultures surrounding us.
“Let’s focus,” Saffron says, wearing one of her signature lace ensembles. Leaning forward, she jerks her head to Robin. “Now, Paris won’t just talk to anyone, you know.” Her head dips and her mouth thins as she takes in my brother.
“Are you warning me off?” Amusement dances in his eyes.
“Yes.” Saffron doesn’t hold back from speaking her truth, and I admire her for it. “You are a stranger. In fact, I forbid you from speaking to Paris. She is far too delicate for the likes of you.”
My brother guffaws, while Autumn nods her head in agreement.
“I’ve only known you a couple hours, and I am inclined to agree.” Seraphina sips her wine delicately, her eyes tracking my brother over the rim.
“I will speak with Paris.” Saffron settles back in her chair with a smile on her face, as though she is actually looking forward to that moment, which scares me a little. “Now, I’m going to go work on dinner.”
“Can I help?” Lark bounces up, her book falling to the floor.
“Of course, little one.” Saffron’s voice dips to that matronly tone that reminds me so much of Gram.
Robin glances at Saffron, a warming smirk on his face as he watches the two of them walk down the hall together. I know what he sees and how he feels watching them, because it’s the same feeling I get when I observe them together.
I never thought Lark could experience the love of a grandparent, and now, in a way, she is.
And you want to take her from that.
Shame burns through me at the thought, because it’s true. I want to follow through with our plans, but this back and forth of being here keeps messing with my head.
“So, Robin,” Autumn begins.
“No.” Seraphina slams her glass down on the coffee table. “No,” she repeats softly.
“Did you just call dibs?” Autumn laughs, sitting up as a challenging glint crosses her blue eyes.
I glance up at Arlo, my gaze screaming,Is this really happening?
“I would never claim a man.” Even as Seraphina speaks, her eyes dart to Robin.
That little liar.
“Ladies.” Robin holds up his hands.
“Arlo.” I jump up and grab his hand, tugging him out of the parlor, my brother’s laughter following us out.
“Wait!” He darts back and snatches the bottle of wine. Rushing out, he grabs my hand and leads me up the staircase. “I have an idea.”
“Your ideas are dangerous.” Yet I grip his hand in mine, follow him up to the second floor, and then step into a bedroom at the end of the hall. His damp red flannel is draped across a chair. This must be the room he stays in when he’s here.
I feel like a teenager. I’m in Arlo Larson’s room and that makes me giddy.
“In here.” He shoves open a door that squeaks, because the paint is stuck to it. “Wait.” Thinking better of it, he grabs the comforter off his bed, then leads me to a set of stairs that wind up toward an attic. Cool air rushes past us as we ascend.
