"Paul's okay with the family fireworks?" I ask her.
"Please." Mara waves her hand. "He says he's marrying me for my spice."
Ben slides her lemonade to him and takes a sip. "Like he has a choice," he says, teasing.
Mara's eyes instantly flash. "Like you don't have 'wasted potential?'" She quotes with her fingers and whips the glass back, but the straw stays put in his mouth, so he gives her a death glare.
That's their sibling love in a nutshell: seventy percent affection, thirty percent perfectly aimed daggers.
Makes me envious in a way I don't like because I don't have anyone to spar like this with.
Only, I used to. He happens to sit to my right, like some reminder I didn't ask for.
But okay, maybe I shifted a little. Enough to somehow pass it for leaning closer to Mara, but really to steal a better look at him. That neck? I’ve never had a thing for necks. I don’t. But his—his is maddeningly sculpted, all tendon and definition. Like some men are just born with beautiful throats. Unfair."
He catches me staring, so I quickly face Mara. "Wait. Wasted potential? You have to explain that one."
"She doesn't have to explain anything," Ben cuts in, eyes threatening Mara under his lashes.
"Why? Is it classified?" I tease, but he doesn't register me.
"She just has to stop meddling," he finishes.
I guess he forgot Mara runs the same blood in her veins.
She leans back, tipping her head to the side and her voice drips that venomous honey. "Oh really? You don't seem to mind when it's convenient for you."
Ben's jaw ticks. He drags in a slow, tired breath, cocking his brow. "I slept two hours. You really want to do this?"
The second he lets his exhaustion slip in his tone, her smile falters and she drops into her maternal tone. "Alright, alright. Sorry. Tell us about your shift."
Ben lets out a long breath, letting go of the other words he had for her, and then he smiles faintly—can't stay mad at her for too long. "Quieter than New York, which is good—I won't miss the overdoses."
"Where in New York?" I jump in because where else am I going to get this?
"Mount Sinai."
"Ah. That's one of the top ones, right?"
"Yeah. ER's efficient." Simple. Like compliments cost him.
"He was a rising star. Before he decided to move," Mara cuts in again, catching his slicing stare, but she just flicks her hand and looks at him pointedly. "What? I'm praising you. You got promoted instantly. Now you'll have to start over here."
"Don't worry about me," he says with that usual certainty. "I'll manage anywhere."
"Where do you work now?" I ask, circling the rim of my glass with one finger, like I'm just bored, not prying.
"Zuckerberg. Third shift today. Had a few interested cases," he says. "Best one was a guy who came in with his crotch super-glued to his pants. Girlfriend's payback."
Mara chokes. "No."
He nods, like it's nothing, just his regular Friday. "He kept insisting—while I'm literally cutting him free—that she's the one, that he already bought the ring, that he'll die without her. People are," he shrugs, "people."
Mara practically hisses, her fingers on the cross. "Cheaters should be glad it's just glue."
Not sure if it's her Christian values, but for some reason her hatred for cheaters runs deep, and I respect it.
"What are you drinking?" she asks Ben the second she spots the waiter and waves the guy who practically runs over.
