“I don't fully understand because I was living overseas." She watches me carefully, then her lips curve. "But I do know Sebastian and Rosalia are crazy about each other. It was a peace offering. Or a guilt gift. Not a love triangle. So there's no need for jealousy."
“What?” I squeak. “Why would I be jealous?”
“Because you slept with him.”
The spatula slips from my fingers and clatters to the floor, splattering egg across the tile. “Shit,” I mutter, and bend to clean the mess. “H-How…”
“I tore it out of him that day we all met. On the drive home. I could tell something was up.”
“You.” I twist the dish towel around my knuckles and narrow my eyes. “I knew you were dropping innuendo when you were showing Madison and me the house.” My heart skips. “Does everyone know?”
She shakes her head. “Just me.”
I turn off the stovetop and slide a plate of eggs across the counter to her. “Good. Please keep it that way. We don’t need the past muddying the waters of the present.”
“Thanks for the eggs, but you know Thorne has a cook,” she says, taking a bite.
“Believe me, I know. I’m contemplating stealing him and bringing him back to New York with me. I’ve probably gained five pounds from all the delicious dinners.” I rub my stomach. “So, maybe I shouldn’t kidnap him.”
We tuck into our breakfasts. But before Lillianna finishes her eggs, she asks, “Nothing’s going on between you two now?”
I arch an eyebrow at her insistence on the topic. “No.”
It isn’t a lie. Nothing, not even conversation, has been going on since the ride. And Lilliana doesn’t need to know it happened again. Or that I want to do it again.
I run a piece of toast through the yolk of my egg, but set it down. There’s a reason Lillianna brought this up, and it wasn’t merely to be nosy. “So what is it you want to tell me?”
She nods as if appreciating my directness. “To be careful,” she says.
“Of your brother or with him?”
“Both.” She takes a slow, deliberate sip of coffee, holding my gaze over the rim of her mug. “He has demons he’s fighting, and they might hurt you.”
My knee-jerk reaction is to push back, tell her I can handle his sins, but isn’t that the trap—thinking we can fix a man? That only happens when they want to change.
Plus, he isn’t mine to fix.
Lillianna sets her napkin on the table, all teasing has fallen from her face, “But under all mistakes and broken pieces is a golden heart. And if he actually lets you in, you could do some real damage.”
Her words hit me like ice water, shocking and undeniable. I swallow hard, pushing down the uncomfortable truth that I've been thinking about Thorne far too much for someone who's leaving soon. “Well, either way, you don't have to worry. Nothing is going on with us.” The words taste bitter, like coffee left too long on the burner.
“Good.” She smiles. “That means you’ll go with me to Tipsy on Saturday for dancing and dating.”
I laugh. “I will? Is Tipsy a bar?”
“The hottest spot for locals in Louisville. And tomorrow the Three Pence will be there.”
My brows shoot up. They are very popular, like they could sell out The Mercury or possibly even Yum, and I ask why they aren’t playing at one of those venues.
“The drummer, Lincoln, is dating a woman whose family owns Tipsy. They’re hosting an exclusive party to raise money for her art initiative that helps underprivileged kids access musical education. Any Blackstone and their friends are invited.”
My chest tightens, and I meet Lillianna’s gaze. “And am I a friend?”
“Your half-sister is my half-sister.” Her mouth curves with mischief. “And you’ve slept with my brother. You’re so tangled with my family. You are family.”
I cover my face, knowing it’s as red as the sliced tomato on my plate. “Oh my God, stop.”
Lillianna laughs, the sound bright and infectious enough to make me smile despite my embarrassment. We settle into a comfortable silence as we finish our breakfast, and I’m about to suggest a second cup of coffee when I hear Thorne say, “No, I’ll tell her. This impacts them directly.” His tone is clipped, authoritative. It’s the voice he uses for business, not pleasure.
