“Erica,” I rumbled, glaring at my sister.
“What?” she replied, angelic. “Isn’t that what you said?”
“I’m never telling you anything ever again.”
“He’s so dramatic, isn’t he?” Erica said to Deena, a wide smile on her face. She took a sip of her tea and met my gaze, an evil, amused look in her eyes.
“Can I be your flower girl?” Lila asked, first to me, then to Deena.
Deena opened her mouth and closed it again.
“We’re not getting married,” I said gently.Yet. My sister’s eyes glittered; she’d heard the unsaid word. I turned to Deena, unsure of what to say. After last night, there was no doubt in my mind. I would marry her, or I would die alone. I wouldn’t lie to her, and I wouldn’t insult her intelligence by pretending my sister remembered our conversation wrong.
But she spoke first. “Your proposal skills need work,” she told me.
“Is that a yes?”
“No.”
I grinned, fast and sharp. She arched a brow, her eyes glimmering with amusement. “Next one’ll be better,” I promised.
“Low bar.”
Erica barked out a laugh. “I like her,” she announced.
“Me too,” Lila piped up to say. “You helped hang up my drawing.”
Deena finally took a sip of her coffee, and I caught the faint grimace that flitted across her expression.
“No good?” Iasked.
She shook her head. “It’s fine. I just—I don’t know. I think I’m losing my sweet tooth. Sweet things just taste off these days. I’ve been drinking my coffee black lately.” She lifted her mug. “But this is perfect.”
I took the mug from her and dumped it down the sink while she tried to protest, then got her a fresh one. “Here. Next time you don’t like something, you tell me.”
Erica’s gaze bounced from me to Deena and back again, but her mouth stayed blessedly closed. I didn’t need her scaring Deena away with the contents of our private conversations.
Deena took the coffee, tasted it, and gave me a smile. “Much better,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Can we have pancakes for breakfast?” Lila asked, putting her crayon down to bat her little eyelashes at me. “With chocolate chips and syrup?”
I sighed. Going up against these three women was a losing battle. “Sure, kiddo,” I said, then looked at Deena. “What would you like to eat? I can make eggs Benedict.”
Her eyes brightened. “You can?”
I shrugged. “Sure. You like bacon?”
“What kind of question is that?” Deena asked. “Of course I like bacon!”
She and Erica laughed, and my own lips kicked. Then Deena added, “I’m still in shock about the whole eggs Benedict thing. You’re going to make it from scratch?”
“Cal is an amazing cook,” Erica said, and it was the first decent thing she’d said all morning.
“He is?” Deena’s eyes were wide.
“Oh, yeah,” Erica answered. “He doesn’t do it much, but his food is incredible.”
Deena’s gaze met mine, and the way she looked at me made my heart clench. She looked…
