I notice that Harlow takes a long exhale. “We may be doomed.” It sounds painful but true.
“There must be a way around it.”
She chortles. “Are we serious? Isn’t this the conversation that couples have when they are contemplating marriage or something?”
“Again, you’re the romance writer. What would your fictional characters do?” My tone is mundane, because as ridiculous as it sounds, it’s completely true.
Harlow throws me a near glare. “We aren’t fictional.” She holds her palm up. “Okay, you made your point. What I write is completely unrealistic. I’m not a believer.” The sound of the glass hitting the counter confirms that she’s frustrated.
I whistle out a long sound because I’ve been proven right, yet hate it all the same.
“Let’s not get too worked up about this. We can just focus on enjoying our time together.” I follow her to the middle of my living room and grab the back of my shirt to force her to turn to me. I hook my finger under her chin to tip her face up to meet my gaze, ensuring she has no escape. “Relax, Harlow, let me just kiss you right now.”
The moment I end the sentence, she’s up on her toes to ensure our mouths press together even faster.
I hope we’re not caught in quicksand together.
But in this moment, we will let any worry leave us so we can end up a tangled mess on my living room floor.
* * *
“I thoughtyou said this would be casual?” Harlow mumbles to me.
We arrived at Vaughn’s big and freshly furnished house that bought a few months back, let ourselves in, and headed straight to the kitchen where Isla was busy making a pot of coffee and Vaughn was swaying my niece on his hip as he grabbed a piece of cut-up melon from the patterned display of fruit on a tray. Which is right next to the box of fresh croissants and donuts, not to mention a plate of eggs that look edible, and bacon and veggie bacon that seems to be the right texture to actually eat. Don’t get me started on the mimosas that have been poured into flutes.
“It normally is casual,” I grit out to Harlow under my breath.
We both throw on overdone smiles.
“Welcome.” Vaughn walks straight to us. “Nice to meet you.” He waves my niece’s little arm. “This is Nora.” Damn it, the cute little baby with chubby cheeks is calming my desire to kill my brother.
“Hi.” Isla waves from the kitchen. “I’ll join you guys in a sec. We have these new specialty teas, so I want to boil some water.” Really? I mentioned once that Harlow doesn’t drink coffee, and here we go with an all-out effort to impress.
Harlow side-eyes me, confirming our suspicions that this is no casual brunch. Still, my girl stays strong. “Hi, everyone.”
“Make yourself at home.” My brother hands me my niece to hold, and I notice Harlow cock her head to the side, trying to decide if I’m melting her soul, because I can’t lie, I’m aware that I look good holding a baby.
I lean to the side. “Do you mind if I go have a moment with my brother?”
Harlow looks between me and my brother who has plastered a cheeky smile on his face. “Oh yeah, totally. I’ll see if I can help Isla.” Her eyes are slightly bold with humor.
“Shall we go check out Nora’s new toys? Yeah, we’re going to do that,” I inform him.
Vaughn is still entertained as he follows me to the other side of the living room in the open floorplan. “What’s up?” he asks, acting casual.
“What the hell happened to having a normal brunch, at which we normally eat and you and Isla look like a trainwreck because of a teething baby?” I glance down at Nora whose little fingers are clawing my shirt.
“Simmer down. You’re holding precious goods.”
My eyes give him a pointed look. “Yeah, so I can’t murder you for making this a big deal.”
Vaughn sighs. “Excuse me for wanting to make an effort.”
“By adding more fuel to the fire by putting pressure on defining Harlow and me?” My voice squeaks out.
He smiles tightly. “That’s a good thing. Now you can check meeting the family off the list of relationship etiquette.”
“Or just bringing on more confusion.”
