Page 16 of Unexpected Complication

I grinned. “I’m not convinced she is. She informed me your sauce needed more basil.”

He started to laugh. “She’s right.”

“And the lack of ‘real’ Parmesan bothered her. The freshly grated kind—not the ‘shit’ in a plastic can. She was questioning your heritage.”

He slapped his knee as he chortled. “I’ll do better.”

I shut my laptop. “I’m going to lie down.”

“Good. See you in a bit.”

I walked back into the kitchen a few hours later, feeling more rested. Sean was humming and I inhaled deeply. “Something smells great.”

He grinned. “Chicken Parm. I thought Skylar could use some protein.”

“Hope you added some more basil to the sauce.”

He snickered as he stirred. “I did. And there’s enough of the good Parmesan. She’ll be happy.”

I indicated the open laptop. “What’s she doing?”

“Reading. I told her she could join us for supper.”

“I bet she was enthused by the invitation.”

“She seemed calmer. I think she likes the books.” He opened the oven door and poked at something. “It’ll be ready in five. Go get her.”

I looked at the table, frowning at the silverware. “Are you sure?”

“Cian, I only put out forks and spoons. What do you think she’s gonna do? Fork you to death?”

I stifled a groan at his attempt at humor. “Fine,” I huffed. “She’s sitting beside you, though.”

I opened the door to a different-looking Skylar. Obviously, Sean had given her the clothes he’d purchased. The sweatshirt and pants were still a little long on her, but the blue color looked nice against her pale skin. Her hair was washed and hung down her back, still damp. She looked up from her chair, an almost-friendly smile on her face until she saw it was me. I stifled a sigh. Clearly, Sean was okay—I was still on her shit list. For some reason, that bothered me.

“Dinner is ready.” I held out my hand. “Come with me.”

“I can eat in here.”

“No. Sean made dinner, and you’re eating with us.”

Glaring, she stood. “I’m not holding your hand.”

I reached for her as she tried to sidle past. “Fine. I’ll hold yours.” I held her hand firmly and tugged her down the hall.

“Let go!”

“No.”

“I’m not gonna do anything,” she seethed.

“I like to hold your hand.”

“Why?”

I grinned at her, her ire making me smile. “I like your cooties.”

“Fuckwit,” she mumbled.