All.
Oh God.
All four.
“They’re all here,” I croak.
Charlie grins, the asshole. “Let the chaos begin.”
He buzzes them in.
Charlie looks at me. “Ready?”
“No.”
“Too late.”
He opens the door, and my heart stops.
Rowan stands at the front, all tall, looking like he’s stepped off the runway in jeans and a white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off an expensive-looking watch. Eldest serious energy radiating off him in waves, but I guess technically I’m the eldest now.
Callum is right beside him, dressed in dress pants, a tee with a linen shirt over the top, looking very sharp. He has sunglasses on top of his head, holding his hair back.
Behind them is Tavish, all broad-shouldered, hair a gorgeous dark mess. He’s dressed in tan pants and a white tee, which looks basic, but I can tell is all designer and costs a lot.
And Arran, all dimples, curls, cheeky smile, dressed in linen pants and a shirt, looking more like he’s stepped off a yacht in Mykonos.
Four men.
Four variations of Sinclair genetics.
All staring at me.
Rowan steps forward first, I guess as the oldest sibling. “Derrick.” My name in his accent almost kills me. We sort of juststare at one another, taking in the moment, but it was obviously too long for Callum.
Callum pushes Rowan aside. “Move. I want to hug my brother.”
“Cal,” Rowan calls out as he tries to grab him, but Callum dodges and barrels straight at me.
Suddenly, I’m in a rib-crushing hug. “Callum …” I gasp.
He lifts me anyway, like I weigh nothing. “Look at you! Fuck, you’re real!”
“Put him down,” Rowan snaps, pulling his brother off me.
“You got to FaceTime him first, I deserved the first hug.” Callum pouts, which makes me smile.
Rowan rolls his eyes. “You promised not to be weird.”
Callum shrugs. “This is how I am. He’s going to find out sooner or later. I’m excited. He’s our brother, let me express myself!”
Charlie is laughing behind us.
Tavish steps forward next, looking me up and down. “Fuck, Rowan, he really does look like you.”
Arran nods dramatically. “But hotter.”
Rowan’s mouth drops open. “Arran …”
