“Are you going to kiss her?”
Leave it to a four-year-old to break the tension and make things even more awkward.
I didn’t realize we had drifted towards each other, but we both shift back, and I let go of Declan’s hand like it’s on fire. My dad swings the back passenger door open a second later to retrieve my little spy, and I hop out of the truck, avoiding Declan’s gaze.
~ ~ ~
After we got everything inside the house, I excused myself for twenty minutes to go and make Declan’s Christmas present in my mom’s craft room.
I created the perfect decal to place on the mug and am excited to give it to him. Well, actually, I’m a little nervous because I really hope he likes it.
We usually do brunch, gifts, and then go to the beach, so when I emerge from the craft room, I’m not surprised to see both my mom and Kate, plus my dad and Declan, alreadydrinking mimosas. Autumn has a cup of orange juice in front of her as well while she fiddles with her new camera.
I haphazardly throw my hair up into a ponytail while I enter the kitchen, and Kate hands me a mimosa not a moment later.
“You need one of these,” she tells me while clinking her glass to mine. She’s made herself right at home, and I can’t help but wonder how she’s so different from Declan.
Now that I know she’s his sister, it’s one hundred percent obvious they’re related. The only difference is their height and eye color; Kate’s eyes are whiskey brown instead of yellow-green. But whereas Declan is the more silent, brooding type, Kate is an extrovert through and through.
“Alright, you guys, it’s time to eat. But before we do, I just want to say I’m so glad you could join us, Kate and Declan. We are so happy to have you in our home,” my mom exclaims with pure joy on her face.
We all raise our glasses, and Kate and Declan both thank my parents. Declan’s gaze swings my way, and we stare at each other while we take a sip from our mimosas.
I would pay big money to know what he’s thinking right now. His stoicism is irritating but also extremely intriguing.
I pull out my phone and send him a text while everyone else files in line for the food that covers the kitchen island.
Me: A penny for your thoughts?
I hear his phone ping, and he pulls it out of his back pocket. I should probably just ask him like a normal person because he’s only five feet away from me, but I feel like he’ll give me a true answer through messages.
He sets his mimosa down and uses both hands to text back.
Declan: I see what you did there. Lol. I was just thinking how grateful I am that your parents invited us over today.
I look up at him, and he gives me a soft smile.
“Dec, can you help me with my plate?” Autumn asks, looking up at him with her puppy dog eyes.
Declan puts his phone back in his pocket and nods, grabbing the plate in her hands that she’s shoving at his stomach.
“Um, what do you want?” he asks back, and she climbs onto one of the island stools and directs him like she’s the conductor of an orchestra.
I should probably intervene, but it’s entertaining to see him falter around a four-year-old. I smile to myself and pick up a plate of my own while watching my daughter boss him around.
My mom always goes all out for Christmas brunch and makes more food than we can eat. There’s bacon, sausage, cheesy scrambled eggs, French toast, cranberry-orange scones,mini blueberry muffins, quartered Monte Cristo sandwiches, cream cheese stuffed crepes, and sauces of all kinds. It’s the kind of feast that has you stuffed until dinner time, when she feeds you even more food.
“This looks incredible, Briana,” Kate exclaims while filling her plate with a small amount of each food. I chuckle because this girl has basically become family in a matter of twenty-four hours and fits in right at home here.
I watch Declan get Autumn set up at the table, making sure she has everything she needs, and then he comes back for his own plate. He’s not shy about piling it high with food, but I guess for a man of his size, he needs a lot of calories.
“Do you want a scone?” he asks me as he reaches over the island.
“No, thank you. I’m allergic to cranberries.” He pauses to look at me and then backs away from the sweet pastry. “But you go ahead,” I tell him, “I know they’re amazing because it’s my mom’s friend’s recipe and she owns a bakery.”
“That’s okay,” he says and then moves on to the next item on the island.
I furrow my brows but shrug. Once our plates are full, we settle in at the table and eat. My parents ask all kinds of questions directed towards Kate and Declan. I learn that Kate is an event planner for their dad’s business, a business she doesn’t elaborate on, but that she plans everything from corporate events to weddings.
