“How are my little lovebirds doing?” my mom singsongs with no shame. She hands over the box to Vivienne, who wipes her last tear before grabbing it. “This is from Audrey—she said it would be a crime to leave the house in yesterday’s outfit.”
“That’s very generous of her. Please thank her on my behalf. And thanks again for letting us stay the night. I really do appreciate your hospitality.” Vivienne smiles politely.
My mom brushes off the comment with a wave of her hand. “You’re part of the family now.”
The warmth in those blue eyes may as well be the death of me. I’ve never lied to my mother about anything so big before, and knowing that I’m doing it right to her face, under her roof, makes the guilt sink in heavier than I ever imagined.
When I glance at Vivienne, I see a similar expression mirrored on her face.
“Well, I’ll let you guys get back to it. I really am sorry for interrupting.” With a final wink, she scurries away.
I’m about to follow my mother—give Vivienne the privacy she needs to get dressed—when I’m shoved back in the bedroom.
“I heard that corset is super hard to tie up. You might want to help Vivienne with that before joining us for breakfast.”
My mouth gapes from the shock of her words, but I don’t get the chance to protest when the door slams in my face.
———
Lacing up that corset was torture—for both Vivienneandme.
While she complained about her difficulties breathing, all I could think about was the bare, creamy skin of her back, my hand trailing a path up her spine, and the things I’d do to her if she’d let me.
It was wrong—unwarranted with the way I shut her down, but I think that’s what’s gotten my mind in a jumble. I want this. She seems to want it too. Yet acting on it is out of the question.
I know all the reasons this shouldn't work, but how can I think otherwise when she feels so right?
The feel of her lips on mine, the pressure of her hips as she straddled me, her small gasps and moans when she finally caved—the ghost of our interaction lingers in the most torturous way. But it doesn’t compare to the sight in front of me—Vivienne fitting in with my family like a puzzle piece we didn’t know was missing.
The second Audrey saw us coming down the stairs, she quite literally pushed me to the side, linked her arm with Vivienne’s, and steered her to the seat next to hers at the breakfast table.
Anya was also cozying up to her, determined to spend as much time as she could before she left. My mother fell in a similar boat, gushing at any and everything my fake fiancée said.
Through the clear glass, I’m sure we looked like one big happy family, and in some ways, we were—only one person was leaving as quickly as she joined. And in that case, I’d rather put an end to it before it goes too far.
Something wet and sticky lands on my forehead, dragging me out of my thoughts.
I begrudgingly uncross my arms, peel off the lone strawberry slice, and set it on the edge of my plate.
My eyes dart up to find Audrey smirking at me, Vivienne trying hard to contain her laughter, and Anya, along with my mom, too engrossed with their pancakes to pay attention.
“Turn that frown upside down, Nate! You look fussier than Anya when she isn’t fed,” Audrey teases. “Since she’s a toddler, she has an excuse, but you’re a grown-ass man.”
It isn’t until she points it out that I grow increasingly aware of myself. Lips downturned, arms back in their closed-off position, brows pulled together so tightly even Botox wouldn’t be able to freeze the muscles. I try to relax, but it’s hard to do so.
“What’s gotten into you, big brother?” my younger sister taunts. She nudges Vivienne’s elbow before leaning in to whisper something that makes them both giggle. Vivienne leans back to respond, and they dissolve in another round of laughter.
I like the sound of her laugh.
I like the way her head dips down as though trying to hide her smile.
I like how she fits in so well.
Fuck. I’m getting attached. I have to draw a hard line before this goes too far.
“What are you guys talking about?” I cut in, officially annoyed with my sister.
I know what game she’s playing, and I’m afraid it’s working.
