She exhales in relief.
“Oh my God,” Erin says, suddenly leaning forward. “Okay. Hold on.” She lifts a finger.
We all look at her, while her eyes ping-pong between me and Dylan and Ava.
“It’s just hitting me how crazy this is. You”—she points atme—“and you”—she jabs at Dylan—“now technically…share a sister.”
Dylan groans under his breath. “No kidding.”
Erin acts like she doesn’t hear him. “I mean, is this existentially confusing for anyone? A little ‘Are we in a country song?’ vibes? Is that a banjo I hear strumming?”
Dylan rubs his forehead. “Erin?—”
But I’m dying. This girl is funny.
“No, hear me out because it’s awesome.” She stands up, inspired. “Imagine explaining this to someone: ‘This is my brother Dylan. This is my sister Dahlia. And sometimes they make out in bar hallways while holding a toddler.’”
I cover my mouth as I crack up.
Ava snorts and makes a face at me. “I’m learning that she’s always like this.”
Erin points at Dylan. “Does this make you a brother-friend? A friend-brother? A frother?”
Dylan swipes his hand down his face, laughing. “You’re making it weird on purpose.”
She grins. “I’m just trying to keep up. Imagine this family tree! It’s like someone added a little bonus branch with a boyfriend hanging off of it.”
Ava loses it—she’s laughing so hard she presses a hand to her stomach.
I laugh until it hurts. “We’ve thought about it, yes, but the family tree takes it to another level. This is mortifying and another reason we should keep it on the down-low.”
“It’s not mortifying. It’s a modern romance,” Dylan says, laughing harder now too. “With layers.”
“There are layers, all right,” Erin says.
“Please sit down,” Dylan says, pointing at the chair.
Erin plops down, proud of herself. “I think we can allagree that the two of you are now—don’t fight me on this—family-adjacent.”
“You’re never going to let this go, are you?” Dylan says.
“I haven’t known her as long as you have, and I already know she absolutely isn’t,” Ava says, wiping her eyes.
I shake my head. “We’re never going to hear the end of this.”
Erin raises a pretend glass in the air. “To whatever this is! The Whitman-Granger Family Saga Situation!”
Chloe lifts her head off Dylan’s chest and pipes up. “Sitwiashun!”
Ava looks at me. “I think we can handle it, right?”
And even as my face burns, I feel the warmth, the laughter, the ridiculousness of it all.
“Just another way to carry on this messy family saga,” I say, lifting my pretend glass in the air.
“Speaking of toasts, can I get you anything?” Erin asks, suddenly prim and proper. “I was too invested in the drama to miss a second.”
I glance at Chloe. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but we probably should get Chloe back to the Airbnb.”
