“I’d never mock. I know what you can do to a man who pisses you off.”
She gestures to her face, her smile not reaching her eyes. “Honestly, that’s just the start, now that I know I have a brother who’s an explosives engineer.”
Jack beams at her. “I can hook you up, Margie. Just say the word.”
“Still want Chex Mix,” Lucky says, and I can’t tell if he’s missing the undertones of my conversation with Margie, or if he’s just stuck on thinking about his stomach. “They should serve it here.”
“Rock paper scissors for who goes to get it,” Decker replies.
Jack rears back, no longer happy. “Fuck you.”
Margie and I both glance at him.
Decker snickers.
Lucky grins. “He always loses.”
“Every time,” Decker agrees.
“Usually over changing diapers for our friends’ kids,” Lucky adds.
“I can go make a Chex Mix run,” Margie says.
All three of them immediately object.
Dumbasses.
They’re getting played.
“Rock paper scissors for it?” Margie says over my soft snort.
The triplets once again share a look.
“Whoa,” Lucky mutters. “This changes everything.”
“She’s not our quadruplet, dude. It doesn’t changeeverything,” Decker says.
Jack frowns at them. “What if she is, and Mom and Dad just didn’t tell us they didn’t want a girl?”
Margie pinches her lips together, but the giggle still slips out. “They let you use explosives?”
Lucky busts up laughing. Even Decker cracks a real, broad smile. “Hell, yeah. Rock paper scissors for the Chex Mix run. She might be worse than you, Jack.”
All four of them put their hands in.
And fucking Margie—fucking Margie—blinks fast and hard.
Because her eyes have gone shiny.
Either she’s one hell of an actress, or she meant that part she said about wanting to get to know her family.
I need to find out more about her sister and parents.
Her relationship with them.
If she might actually be that poor little rich girl looking for a place to belong.
Because that sad little boy that I was twenty years ago when my mom passed—he relates hardcore to wanting a place to belong.
