I guess I’m not really the go-to sister for favors. Rose would be the first one to call, literally willing to drop her entire day’s plan if we need her to. Then Poppy, almost as sisterly, but she has a daughter that eats her time and blocks out her schedule. I’m the least reliable, least available, least everything-sister.
“So,” she eases in, “Mom and Dad are going at it. They’ve been screaming about the decoration budget for the Christmas Charity Gala. I know Mom’s going to come up and start rehashing their argument to me, and I’d rather not be involved.” She pauses. “Do you think I can come over and stay the night in the guest bedroom?”
I frown, wondering if she already asked Rose, or even Poppy and Sam who have plenty of extra space. Will it be rude to question? I think it will, especially if she’s reaching out to me. I take a trained breath. “Sure.”
She squeals. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou! I’ll be over in a half hour.”That soon?The line clicks, and I glance at my room…the guest bedroom. Where she’ll be sleeping. Shit.
“LO! LO!” I scream, frantic.
Ten seconds later, he runs into the room, eyes suddenly sober. “What’s wrong?” he says, panic-stricken.
“Daisy is coming over.”
His muscles slightly relax, and he combs shaking fingers through his hair. “Jesus, Lil. I thought you were hurt. Don’t call my name like that unless you’re bleeding.”
“Did you hear me?” I say. “Daisy is coming over. And she’sspending the night.”
His eyes darken. “Why didn’t you ask me first?”
My cheeks heat. “I-I didn’t think. She asked and I said yes.” Oops, I forgot about Lo. Ialsoforgot that everyone thinks I sleep with him, which is so not the case. “It was a subconscious reaction, and I didn’t want to be rude.”
With a sigh, he rubs his eyes and then scans my room. “Strip your bed, throw the sheets in the washer, and hide all of your porn. I’ll lock up the booze.”
We split up and focus on our specific tasks. Twenty minutes later, the guest room turns clean and presentable for Daisy. Trying to fish out the panties under the bed ate up most of the time. The doorbell rings, and I close the washing machine and start the cycle.
When I enter the kitchen, Lo and Daisy are already talking. My presence breaks their chit-chat, and I smile. “Hey, Dais.” I give her a hug.
“Thanks again for letting me crash here,” she says, taking off her designer tote bag and setting it on the bar stool.
“It’s no problem.”
“Do you want anything to drink?” Lo asks, his eyes glittering with mischief. He always offers a guest a drink so when he pours himself a glass of alcohol it doesn’t seem too suspicious. He glances at me with a crooked grin, knowing I’m in on the secret.
“Water is good,” she says. “Is it weird not having staff?”
“You mean serving yourself?” Lo calls from the fridge. “It’s back breaking pain.” He grabs a thermos from the shelf and slides Daisy a water bottle.
“Don’t be an ass,” I tell him.
Lo snakes an arm around my waist, drawing me to his chest. His lips tickle my ear. “Never,” he breathes, his eyes drinking me in.
My entire chest constricts.This is not real. He’s playing a part. That’s all.
“So this is your apartment,” Daisy says, and I break from Lo. She wanders away from the bar and scans the living room to the left and the hallway to the right. Not much else. She inspects pictures that line a bookshelf towards the living room. I forgot Daisy has never been here before. I talk to her the least, mostly because she’s the youngest and not very involved in my life. I guess the only way to be close to me is to inject yourself in my world because I won’t make the move to enter yours. That’s horrible, isn’t it?
“If you two have kids, you so have to burn this one,” Daisy says with a laugh. She holds up a photo of Lo sticking his tongue in my ear while I shriek in disgust. Out of all the pictures—she’s chosen one of the few that wasn’t staged. We were sixteen, a time before we started our fake relationship.
“Have you not heard of a wet willy?” Lo asks, taking a large swig from his thermos. He sets it down on the counter and approaches Daisy, taking the photo from her. His smile widens, filling up his face into something beautiful.
“You’re supposed to lick your finger,” Daisy protests like he’s a moron, “not put your tongue in her ear.”
“I agree,” I say, even though I don’t, not really. My body heats at the image of Lo so close to me, the whole ordeal sexier than I’ll let on.
“Oh, you do?” Lo says, with the tilt of his head, an eyebrow quirks up, unbelieving. “If I recall, you were not complaining that day.” He stalks towards me. “You were all flushed.”
“I’m always flushed,” I retort, my breath hitching as he nears, his lips pulling in that playful smile. I point a threatening finger at him. “Don’t.”
My back hits the counters, trapped in the corner, and I wonder if this is real or if I’m lost in my head, fantasizing. I don’t want to find a way to escape his hold, and I forget about my sister who remains near the living room, scoping out years of history—fake and real—on shelves and tables.
