“Yeah, saving his butt from the lawsuit is top of the list, I’m sure.”
Confusion mars Cian’s face. “I hadn’t even factored that in, actually. I wonder if Sherman knows anything on that front.”
“I’m no lawyer, but it seems it hasn’t been enough time toknow anything like that.” I look down at the ring on my finger. It was out on the nightstand when I got out of the bathroom. Come to think of it, it might’ve been there last night too.
“If it makes you feel any better, Ayla has a whole day planned.”
“I have a job. I work for a living.” I look around the mansion I’m standing in. “I have bills to pay, Cian. Soon that’ll include a car note I hadn’t budgeted for.” Which is yet another reason I’m stuck here.
“We all do. This isn’t easy on any of us, just so you know.”
There’s an older woman laying trays of breakfast food out on the island. Christian mans the espresso machine fulfilling orders as they’re placed.
A man I’ve never seen before lounges on the sofa watching the goings-on with amusement and intention, all the while sipping espresso. He’s dark and angular and would be scary if he weren’t so hot.
Wills and Sophia are on blankets on the floor in front of him, staring at each other and stretching. Sariah and Ayla move around as if they’ve known each other for decades.
Here I am, the odd woman out. The odd person out. I’m not family. I wasn’t chosen or adopted in. Heck, that unknown man on the sofa looks like he belongs more than I do.
I slowly make my way to the stairs and slide into the bedroom that smells like Liam and sex and holds brutal memories.
Poe hisses when I sit down.
“You were supposed to be mine, you know. The whole get-a-cat thing was for me. Of course, he’d find you. Of course you’d love him. Why am I not surprised that you don’t even like me?” Even the cat has more of a place in this family than I do.
Yesterday, I wanted to be home.
Todayhomefeels like a faraway dream.
56
moral question mark
Lorien
A knock on the door breaks me from my trip down rejection lane. The door opens a crack, and Sariah pushes her way in with a tray of food and a can of Diet Coke.
“Do I remember correctly that you’re anti-coffee?”
“I’m not anti-anything. I’m pro caffeine. I’m super pro Diet Coke.”
She hands it over along with a glass with ice and sets the tray down on the floor next to me. She promptly slides down the door but winces a little at the end.
“Are you okay?” I ask, popping the top on the can.
“Just a little tender still.”
My face blushes. Who talks like this?
“Internal stitches after pushing a watermelon out will do that.”
Relieved, I smile. “He’s tiny. He couldn’t have been too much of a watermelon.
“Well, when the exit isn’t baby sized…” She lets that hang.
I scrunch my nose.
Sariah is a plain talker, and she proves it with her question. “Why are you up here instead of downstairs with us?”
