“Good.”
I’m glad to see how close Katia and Talia have become again. The Katia I met two months ago has little in common with the woman she is now.
I respect the hell out of her.
She got clean, and now she’s kicking ass at life.
The doorbell rings, sharp and cheerful through the house.
Bear explodes. Absolutely loses his mind.
He barks once, twice, then sprints toward the front door like a furry missile.
“That’ll be her,” Talia says, already smiling.
“I gathered,” I mutter, heading down the hallway with Bear ricocheting off my legs.
I open the door.
Katia stands there in a dark green wrap dress, hair up, earrings swinging as she lifts both hands dramatically.
“Before you say anything,” she announces, “I know I’m late. I blame infrastructure.”
I lean one shoulder against the doorframe and look her over slowly.
Health looks good on her.
“You look suspiciously responsible,” I tell her.
She gasps. “How dare you. I worked very hard on my carefully curated image of whimsical instability.”
I snort.
Then I pull her into a quick hug.
She hugs me back without hesitation, easy and warm and entirely herself.
When I let her go, Bear immediately wedges himself between us and demands tribute.
“Hi, nephew,” Katia coos, crouching to rub his ears. “You’re still the cutest male in this family. Don’t tell Jake.”
“Too late,” I say.
Talia appears behind me, and the sisters fall into each other’s arms like they haven’t seen each other in weeks—even though Katia was here just two nights ago.
They pull back, still grinning at each other.
“You look great,” Talia says.
“I know,” Katia replies solemnly. “Recovery has done wonders for my skin.”
Talia laughs again, and I catch myself smiling like an idiot.
"Ready to go, ladies?” I ask.
“Wait,” Katia says, holding up one finger like a dramatic stage actress about to deliver a monologue. “Before we leave, I need to emotionally prepare myself.”
“For dinner?” I ask.
