It was very similar to what the man himself had said that morning. “I know,” I agreed. “I guess maybe now it’s me that has to process a bit.”
“Fair enough, honey. I get it. Um, I don’t want to make this about me at all, but you guys are still coming to the wedding, aren’t you?” she asked, and I could hear the anxiety in her voice. Her wedding was just a few weeks away, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
“We’ll be there,” I assured her. “You still want us to play?” She’d had the idea when she and Ry first got engaged, to have our former band, which we’d named Red Tape for some reason none of us could explain, play a few songs at her wedding.
“Hell yes, I do!” she exclaimed.
I grinned. I had to admit, I was looking forward to that.
“Okay. I should get back,” I said, looking toward the house.
“Sounds good. But Sam, I want to hear from you every day. Otherwise, you’ll be seeing my ass on your doorstep. I’m serious,” she reprimanded me. I fully deserved it.
“I’m sorry. I know I’m shit with this stuff, but I’m trying to work on it,” I assured her.
“That’s good, babe. Talk soon.”
“Yep. See ya.” I ended the call and headed inside.
Sid had music playing from Brad’s elaborate sound system when I walked back inside. I was amazed he could get the thing to work. When I’d realized there were five remotes to control it, I hadn’t even tried.
I didn’t see him or Trixie, and assumed he was upstairs working and that he’d won the little stinker over.
I started to make dinner, shimmying my hips to the beat of the Magnetic Zeros as I chopped tomatoes, singing along.
I could get used to this kitchen; the high-end appliances and gorgeous surfaces actually made cooking fun.
When the doorbell rang, I froze. Who the hell would that be?
“I’ll get it,” Sid barked authoritatively from the stairs as he descended rapidly. “It’s your brother,” he informed me, not looking pleased as he neared the front door.
Sure enough, my brother stalked in like a cyclone the moment Sid opened the door.
“Let’s talk outside,” Sid shot through gritted teeth at Travis.
What the hell?
I put my hands on my hips, glaring at both of them. “What’s going on? Travis?” I demanded when neither of them responded.
“Did you two sort your shit?” Travis demanded without preamble.
Damn. I wished I had something harder than beer to offer him. Maybe it would soften him up a little.
“Don’t sugarcoat it or anything, Trav,” I mumbled, handing him a beer.
“Well?” he demanded, his keen eyes looking between us.
“We’re getting there. She knows where I stand,” Sid broke in.
“Yeah? And where is that?” Travis shot back.
“She’s mine,” Sid replied without hesitation.
“Geez, can we tone things down a little bit? I’m sweating,” I complained. “Yes, Travis. Thanks to your meddling, we’re….”
What was the right word here? Dating? Together?
I looked to Sid and recalled the words I’d used with Piper. “We’re gonna make a go of it,” I murmured, watching as Sid’s eyes warmed.
