“Given the way you’ve been stroking Juniper for the past hour, I’d say physical touch,” April chimed in.
“I can attest to that,” Juniper said, the sentence ending in a cackle as he pulled her tighter against his chest. Everyone laughed. I felt myself smirk. It might still be a little weird seeing them together, but I couldn’t deny that they brought the best out in each other.
“What about Mal?” April tapped a finger against her lips, glancing at her husband, who started transferring dishes from the counter to the table.
“Is worrying a love language?” Callum offered.
“Fuck off,” Mal said.
“Words of affirmation,” April finally said. His face shone a deep scarlet, but he didn’t look unhappy about it.
“So, what does that make Alistair?” Isla asked, tucking a golden curl, escaped from her braid, behind her ear. The entire drive over, I’d imagined myself tugging on it, just to watch it jump back into place.
“Acts of service,” Heather said, not missing a beat. Like it was obvious.
I choked on my drink, feeling it slide into my trachea. “Don’t think it counts when I’m serving myself.”
All of my siblings scowled at me. Juniper remained notably quiet.
“You remember Mrs Jackson, right, Alistair?” An evil little grin spread over Heather’s face. I knew where she was going with this.
“Teddy’s teacher?” Isla asked, not picking up on Heather’s shit-stirring tone.
Callum laughed. “Still too early to tell her all your secrets, aye?”
Did siblings ever grow out of being a pain in the arse?
“We should go check on Teddy.” I tugged Isla’s hand and flicked Heather on the nose.
“Wait, wait, wait—” Isla gripped the counter. “I think I need to hear this.”
“It’s a boring story,” I assured her, but Heather had already started.
“So, when Alistair was seven years old, he thought he was in love with his school teacher—”
“I never said I was in love. You’re making this way more dramatic than it ever was.”
“Yes, you did,” Mal piped up, returning to April’s side.
“Anyway,” Heather continued. “Alistair decides to handmake her a Valentine’s Day card.”
“You handmade it?” Isla asked, glancing back at me in disbelief.
“Of course I did. Give me some credit.”
April’s hand covered her heart. “That’s so cute, I think I’m going to throw up.”
“Nah.” Mal stole the wooden spoon from her hand and tucked her close. “I think that’s a combination of the three doughnuts you just ate and the baby resting on your intestines.”
“Back to the story please,” Isla cut in.
There was no stopping this now. So I gave in to the urge, tugging on that stray curl in punishment.
“My parents get a phone call on Valentine’s Day. It’s the school, and they need someone to go in ASAP.” Heather spread her hands on the counter dramatically. At least she was finally putting the childhood acting classes to good use. “Mum finds Alistair in the headmaster’s office, thinking he’d gotten into a fight or something, and she’s already defending him. Turns out he’d put six months’ worth of pocket money – fifty British pounds” – she flashed her fingers five times; in case Isla couldn’t count – “in the card and told Mrs Jackson to buy herself something pretty because the bus didn’t run on Sundays so he couldn’t go to the shops.”
My cheeks flushed.
“How is that sweet and equally creepy at the same time?” Juniper mused as everyone else, including my mum –traitor–burst into laughter.
