I don't know what indefinitely means for her, but either way, I'm more than happy to have her here. So, I nod. "Of course, it is."
Then I clear my throat. She needs her friends and some kind of life outside her music one.
"Lyndall, I might have some other news that will cheer you up."
She claps her hands. "Pop tarts for life?"
"No. I'll allow you to see Luke—as friends—on the condition that you promise you'll never have sex." Then I think about it. "With him or anyone. No sex. Ever."
Lyndall looks at me like I'm crazy, eyebrows raised. "Never?"
I mean, never is unreasonable, she is right. And I can be reasonable. Right?
"Well...not until you're forty. At least."
"How about I discuss it with you first?"
"Fuck, no."
She frowns. "Why not?"
"Because...you're my sister."
"Not technically."
I recoil. "Like my sister, then. I've known you since before you were born. So, just do what I say."
"No. You're my brother."
I start to smile.
She shrugs. "So, I'll talk it out with you."
"What?"
Lyndall nods. "If I start heading to pound town tomorrow, I'll tell you. Because, you know, as siblings, we should talk."
The smile vanishes. "God no. You're not doing a thing until you're very much legal."
"Is it seventeen in New York State?" She looks up at me, waiting.
"Nineteen," I say, lying.
Lyndall puts her hands on her hips. "I think you're wrong."
"Please wait until you're twenty." I push it out between clenched teeth.
If she won't see reason, I'll fucking make sure whoever the guy she's got eyes on does. Luke, some slimeball Italian from fucking Rome, a fuck boy, shit, even a girl. Whoever it is, I'll make them not touch her until after the wedding.
I'm vaguely aware it's a little of a different rule for me than for her, but tough shit. "At least."
"I might slip."
"Oh, trust me, you won't."
"But what if I do? You don't want to know? 'Cause I'll tell you. So...do you want to know?" And the little wannabe minx flutters her eyelashes at me.
I shudder. "Are you insane? No. Just make sure you're legal."
