“You made a mess,” I say and sign at the same time.
Nadine answers, signing as well. “Because you decided to sneak in here like a serial killer.”
I don’t sign what might be considered a threat in a court of law. “While I’ve had fantasies about wrapping my hands around your neck, I’m not willing to go to prison over you.”
She sneers at me as my sister signs, “You want to watch the movie with us? I know it’s your favorite.”
I shake my head, refuting her. “It’s not my favorite.”
“Ah, come on. Nothing wrong with a big man like yourself loving a rom-com,” Nadine goads with an irritatingly pointed smile, and she really has no idea how often I’ve thought about my hand around her neck. With a throat that goes red when she’s mad and a rose gold chain with a cross on it. As far as I know, Erik isn’t religious, more “spiritual,” which always earned an eye roll from me whenever he talked about it. But I think I remember him saying their dad was Catholic.
My parents took me to Faith Lutheran every Sunday, and we said grace before every meal, but I easily let that part of me go when I arrived at college and learned I wasn’t all that interestedin sitting in a hard pew every week if someone wasn’t forcing me. Though I assume Nadine is the type to go and sit in the front row. I bet she has Bible verses memorized, believing she’s better than everybody else. Certainly believes she’s better than me.
“I don’t have a problem admitting I enjoy romantic comedies,” I say, just to prove her wrong. “I love10 Things I Hate About You. That bit when Julia Stiles gets drunk at the party and he rescues her is my favorite.”
Again, why I had to go that far, revealing more information than necessary, I don’t know, but having Nadine in close quarters has clearly sent my mind reeling. Instead of concentrating on driving off my standing leg during my sprints, I was thinking about the time Nadine and I crossed paths at a Founders’ fundraiser for an autism charity. I told her I was surprised to see her in the sunlight since I thought it turned vampires to dust, and she told me I should go back to whatever cornstalks I crawled out of because the crows would eat all the crops. Then I proceeded to tell her my dad was a mechanical engineer and my mom was a dental hygienist, so I didn’t come from “cornstalks.”
She pursed those lips of hers and lifted a nonchalant shoulder, causing the thin strap of her sundress to droop. “Could have fooled me with all that straw in your head.”
I had no reply, my mind scrambled with the way her hips swayed, the hem of the pink dress shorter than I ever might have imagined prissy little Nadine would wear.
Now, she’s in my home.
Looking completely comfortable.
As if she has not a care in the world.
Even as she’s made a mess of the place.
“Then why did you say your favorite movie wasAny Given Sundaywhen your social media people asked for TikTok?” she asks, drawing me back into our sniping.
“You following me on TikTok?”
She rolls her eyes. “The team, you arrogant asshole.”
Funny, though, that she would even remember somethinglike that. The social media managers haven’t begun making their content yet this season, so whatever video she’s talking about is old.
Then again, if someone asked me what Nadine wore on every occasion I’ve been in her physical presence, I’d be able to rattle off: ice-blue gown for Erik’s engagement party, long and flowy number for the small beach wedding, the tight jeans and black sweater for the surprise birthday party Molly threw Erik, the hot-as-fuck pink sundress for the team’s charity fundraiser, this ugly-ass one-piece thing with wide legs and puffy sleeves for Kai’s baby shower, and she wore denim shorts and an oversized T-shirt withLove Winswritten into a rainbow when she came over the other day to meet Paisley.
But, whatever.
It’s not like I ever wrote her a poem about all the reasons I hate her.
Number one being she’s a stuck-up shrew with an unfortunate ability to get under my skin.
“You need to clean up,” I say, motioning to all the popcorn. “Mariam doesn’t come until Friday.”
Nadine doesn’t sign the next bit, too busy shrieking at me as she leaps up from the recliner. “I don’t need you ordering me around. Don’t mistake my goodwill for submission. I won’t tolerate your condescension.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Asking a guest in my home to clean up after herself is condescension? I thought it was good fucking manners.”
She steps closer to me, having to rise up on her toes, but that only gives her another inch, and she still needs to tilt her head back to hold my gaze, her ice-blue eyes on fire. “Yeah, I do have good fucking manners, unlike you. I always clean up my messes.”
I force a laugh. “Little Miss Manners, huh?”
She steps back from me, sneering, “I can’t stand you.”
That’s when Paisley interrupts us, signing that she’ll clean upthe popcorn. That it’s no big deal, but when both Nadine and I start to tell her she doesn’t need to, she signs, “Children” with a scoff and then turns to pick up the pieces of popcorn from the floor.
