“Whatever.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about Sam?” he starts.
I shrug.
“Use your words.”
I growl. I can do that in this car and not get a spanking.
“You know I know you’re lying, right?”
“I haven’t uttered a single falsehood.”
“Correction.” He holds up a finger. “I know you’re hiding something. And I’m going to get to the bottom of it. Today.”
“That sounds like a threat.” I’m appalled.
“It’s a promise, little sister.” He puts the car in drive and pulls back out onto the highway. “Now what shall we do while our sister gets married without us at her side?”
41
good girl
Lorien
The hurt in his voice crushes me.
I didn’tget marriedwithout him there. I signed papers on a financial arrangement. Surely, he’ll understand the difference, even if there’s little distinction after today.
My brother finds a parking lot, does the QR code thing that allows us to pay, and turns us toward the brewery where we’ll meet the rest of the family after the wedding. He takes the street side, hustling me further up the sidewalk.
“Can you believe Sam is marrying that man?” I ask. “I know, I know. I can’t say anything after the fact, because it’ll be a done deal and I’ll have to swear fealty or whatever, but for now, ew.”
“Swear fealty? You crack me up.” He opens the door for me, allowing me to precede him. My mind goes to Liam and how I haven’t opened a door in all the time we’ve been together. Come to think of it, he always takes the dangerous side like Strider. The street side, the side of the parking lot where he could be hit instead of me. Could that be right?
Has he been protecting me and being chivalrous even when I wasn’t so nice?
“Where did you go?” Strider asks.
“What?”
“You were here and then you were gone… You had this dreamy look. Lolo, do you have a man back home?”
Sputtering and stuttering, I trip over my own feet and right into Strider’s arms. He rights me but laughs as he does. “Segways. Yeah, this should be hysterical.”
We find a table and a pretty brunette waitress comes up, looking between the two of us and sizing me up. I’d help a sister out if she weren’t giving off mean girl vibes.
Rubbing Strider’s shoulder, I say as sultry as I can, “This stud here is having a birthday, and we need your best brunch drink menu.”
She drops two on the table and saunters away, never even asking if we want water or anything else.
“What was that all about?”
“She was checking you out and trying to decide if she could best me. You don’t need a mean girl. You need a good girl.” I hear what I said. Ick. “That’s not what I meant. I mean nice.” I wish I could shake the memory from my head. How did that just happen?
“The look on your face was the best gift ever.” My brother beams. “What are you going to have?”
Grabbing a menu, I find a grapefruit juice cocktail to avoid the overly-sweet syrupy breakfast drinks. The waitress returns and takes our orders. Her side-eye game is strong, and she doesn’t try to hide it when she glances at both of our ring fingers. Gross.
