by Cranford, B.
“About enough, Mum?”
“Shut up, Lucas.”
“Thanks, it is good to be home,” I responded, smirking because this is what we did, and I’d missed it during the time I was away. I had no idea how Rose survived so long without this level of crazy.
Or maybe I did. Maybe it was like drying out and once you got past the worst of it, you didn’t need it anymore? Something to think about, though right then my focus was on Bianca, who had a mild look of shellshock on her face. “You okay?”
“I wasn’t expecting that. I wasn’t expecting any of this. It’s . . . it’s been a big couple of days.” She blinked a few times but seemed otherwise unhurt or unoffended by my family.
I shuffled closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, not even bothering to resist the urge to run my hand up and down the smooth skin of her arm. Soft. She was so soft. “You’ll get used to them. Just give it time.”
“How much time? I’m not here for that long,” she joked, smiling over at Mum and Dad, who were having a low-volume argument about what to do with the potatoes.
I shrugged. “Takes some people longer than others.”
A flicker in her eyes caught my attention, and her next words confirmed what I was thinking. “How many other women have you brought home to meet them?”
Oh, yeah. She was jealous.
And I bloody loved it, truth be told.
I made a show of counting off my fingers, tilting my head and darting my eyes away as if I was trying to remember them all, even though the answer was simple.
None.
None of the women I’d ever introduced to my parents had met them at their home. If it ever got far enough for them to be introduced to Mum and Dad, it was at the local pub, not here.
Bianca’s narrowed gaze cleared when Mum called out, “Don’t let him fool you, darling. He doesn’t bring girlfriends home. He’s too afraid that he’s not charming enough to keep them if they meet us in our natural environment.”
Bianca’s eyes came back to me, looking for confirmation, and I shrugged. I mean, Mum wasn’t lying. If the last ten or so minutes of ridiculousness—and penis talk—wasn’t enough to drive that point home, well, I was sure by the end of the night Bianca would see the truth in those words. However, until then, I wanted to put her mind at ease. “Remember I said you coming to dinner wouldn’t be the first time we’d welcomed a stray?”
A nod. A small smile. And still the faintest hint of jealously.
“We’ve had friends come to visit. From interstate and overseas—they’ve just sort of tagged along and been subjected to”—I waved my hand around the room—“all this.”
Just as Bianca opened her mouth to speak, Mum snorted. “All this. You have no respect, young man.”
“Pfft, I have plenty of respect. For Bianca. Which is why I’m not lying to her about this family.” Tightening my arm around her and pressing her closer, I asked Bianca, “Is your family this crazy? Or are they all sensible, calm, and respectful of guests?”
I don’t think I could describe the look of sadness that swept across her face at whatever memory of her family had cropped up with my words, except to say it made me want to wrap my other arm around her too and never let her go. But considering I’d more or less felt like that since the moment I’d met her, I probably shouldn’t have read so much into it.
Still, I felt bad. “Did I stick my foot in it?”
Shaking her head, she cleared the look away with a wide, bright smile. “No, sorry. It just occurred to me that we’ve—that is, my brothers and I—have had some pretty stupid conversations before, but I don’t think . . .”
I waited a few moments after she trailed off, wondering if she’d finish on her own or if she’d need prompting. When it became obvious that she needed the prompt, I said, “You don’t think you ever talked about genitals in front of newcomers?”
An adorable giggle. Then, “No, I don’t think that. I know that.”
“You don’t think they’re crazy, just kind of insane, like those people that eat nothing but tomato sauce on bread and say it’s delicious? Tomato sauce being ketchup, that is.”
Another giggle. “Not that. Although that is kind of insane. And gross.” She screwed up her face in disgust and why did I think that was cute? Oh, right. Because I thought everything about her was cute.
I was a fucking goner for her. Even when I was doubting it, myself, my past, I couldn’t stop my hopeless heart.
“Hmm. You’re just going to have to tell me then, because I don’t know what you don’t think, and I think not knowing what you don’t think might make me crazy.”
“I have no idea what you just said.”
“You’ll get used to that too.”
“I hope so. Anyway, I was going to say, I don’t think we ever had one of those crazy conversations with Mason around.”
Her ex. I hated the guy, even though we’d never met.
Cheater. Self-esteem wrecker. Idiot. That pretty much summed up what I thought about the wanker that she’d been married to. But then again, considering that if he wasn’t any of those things, then she wouldn’t be here with me, I should probably like the fuckwit.
Nah, still hated him. I could be grateful to circumstance or fate for seating me next to Bianca and still want to punch her ex in the dick, couldn’t I?
Turning back to the conversation before she realized I was mentally strengthening my position as anti-Mason, I asked her why. “Why wouldn’t you have stupid sibling back and forth with him around? What was wrong with him?”
“What makes you think something was wrong with him?” she asked, an air of puzzlement about her that made me wonder exactly how “over” her ex she was.
Surely some part of her still thought him a good guy if she couldn’t see that he was the problem, the reason her brothers didn’t act like they typically would around him. Regardless, didn’t hurt to try to explain that to her. “Um, because if your family couldn’t be themselves around him—if they only ever acted crazy with you and never him after you’d been together that long, then he’s the problem, pretty girl.”
I could tell she was turning that over in her head, so I gave her a reprieve. Taking my arm from around her—but still keeping her body close to mine—I turned and asked Mum, “Anything I can do to help?”
“Or me,” Bianca chimed in. “I’m more than happy to help, Mrs. Ri—”
“Not Mrs. Riley, darling. Call me Lisa. And nope. Making Rose do all the work tonight. Punishment for bringing up—well, you know—after less than ten minutes in Bianca’s presence.”
“It is a record.”
“One I didn’t hope we’d ever beat, baby boy.”
I rolled my eyes at the endearment, but only because I’d noticed Bianca glancing over at me in my peripheral vision. Better to try and look like a manly man who didn’t like being called “Baby Boy” by his mother in front of the pretty girl, you know?
“Um, I’m sorry. May I use your bathroom?”
“There’s something you can do, Luc. Take her to the loo.” Mum nodded as if she’d come up with the idea instead of Bianca politely asking, then turned and walked toward the back garden, where Rose and Dad seemed to be arguing about something.
Lord help us all, they were probably arguing about penis size.
* * *
“So, Bianca, what do you do?” Dad looked up at Bianca, who was sitting next to me at my parents’ outdoor table and who had a mouthful of baked potato. Her eyes widened with alarm that she’d been asked a direct question right as she’d taken a bite to eat, and I thought about leaving her hanging for a sec, then decided I’d better not.
It was tempting though.
“Nice timing, old boy,” I remarked. “She’s a graphic designer.”
Bianca nodded, swallowing the mouthful she’d rapidly chewed and adding, “Lucas is right. I mostly work freelance.”
“She’s awesome at it.”
“You haven’t seen my work.” She turn
ed to look at me and I just smiled. Because of course she was awesome at it.
“Don’t need to.” I shrugged, she shook her head like she couldn’t work me out, and my dad nodded like it all made sense.
“Smart boy.” Mum nodded, looking proud. There’s a turnout for the books—I basically lied and she couldn’t have looked happier about it. Flashback twenty-five or so years and I’d have been given the strap.
You probably don’t want to know what the strap is. Needless to say, it wouldn’t be a thing these days.
“What kind of design do you do, Bianca?” Rose asked, looking curious. “Like, could you do book covers?”
“Ah, huh. I’ve never done one before, but I guess I could? I haven’t ever thought about trying. I mostly do logo designs, business cards, packaging, that kind of stuff. So, a book cover wouldn’t really be that much of a stretch. What do you do, Rose?”
Unable to resist—especially since she’d taken first shot only a little while earlier—I leaned in a bit and said, “From what Mum said, Liam.”
Rose’s face went bright red. “Fuck you, Lucas,” she sputtered, without much heat.
I wasn’t wrong, was I?
Opening my mouth to offer a retort, I felt Bianca’s hand land on my thigh. She squeezed and looked at me pleadingly, which made me bite my lip, though it killed me to not fire back at my little sister.
I was just about to settle on throwing something from my plate at her, when Bianca surprised the whole table—and possibly no one more so than herself.
“I don’t think it’s Lucas you want to fuck.” Even as she finished saying it, her eyes were darting toward mine with a distinct “what did I just do?” look, which made me want to both wrap an arm around her and pull her close and also laugh my arse off.
After all, she fell right into the sibling teasing thing without trouble, and judging by the way Rose was snickering, “Touché,” and nodding, she was totally on board with Bianca’s response.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—” Bianca cut herself off abruptly, having turned toward my mum in contrition, only to find Mum laughing too.
I leaned down to whisper in Bianca’s ear, “You’re fine. Don’t worry about it,” to which she turned back to me and smiled ruefully.
“Hell of a first impression.”
“After meeting you on the plane, pretty girl, I’d say first impressions are your strong suit.”
Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug, but I could see she was still bothered by her loose lips—which I thought were fan-fucking-tastic, for the record—so I redirected the conversation back to where it’d been before our little interlude. “What are you going to do now, Rosebud?” I asked, using the nickname given to her by our dad when we were kids.
“I’m going back to the States for a while. Aunt Jessie is helping me reapply for my visa.” She looked down at her phone resting on the table beside her plate, a small but peaceful smile on her lips. “I miss my boys.”
“Your boys?” I narrowed my eyes at her. “How many do you need? Two? Three? An entire harem of them?”
“Aren’t you just hilarious? You know what I mean. Side note, though—in romance, it’s called a reverse harem and you have one for every day of the week.”
I stared at my sister, losing the thread of the conversation as I tried to both wrap my mind around that concept and forget I’d ever learned it from my sister. “Really?”
“Actually, I don’t know. I’ve never worked up the courage to read one, but I’m kind of intrigued by the idea. In fiction. Not for me.”
“Better bloody not be for you. Jesus, Rose.”
Bianca slapped the back of her hand on my arm. “Hey, if she wants to have a harem—reverse or otherwise—you’d be wise to shut up. She’s allowed to have whatever she wants, you know that, right?” Her frown was adorably fierce, and I liked that she could flip from one topic to the next the way we did in the family, without seeming to skip a beat.
“Thank you, Bianca. She’s right. I’m a grown-ass woman.”
“Who says ‘ass’ like an American now,” I pointed out.
My sister poked her tongue out at me in a stunning show of maturity and kept talking like I hadn’t said a word. “If I want a week’s worth of men, I’ll have them. Not that I do. I just want Liam and Wilbur.”
I glanced over at Dad to see if he had something to add to this conversation, only to see him winking at Mum, who was blushing, and I decided it was probably better I didn’t know what their take on the whole “harem” thing was. “And Liam and Wilbur are?”
“Liam is my boyfriend. Wilbur is our dog.”
Bianca perked up beside me. “You have a dog? What kind? Is he here?” She shook her head. “Sorry, of course he’s not here. You basically just said that.”
Rose shook her head, looking more than a little sad. “I do, and no, you’re right, he’s not here. He’s still in North Carolina with Liam.”
“That’s where you met him and worked?” Bianca asked, not mentioning that her family was from there. I kind of liked that she didn’t make the conversation about her—she seemed to have a genuine interest in chatting to Rose and it made my chest tighten a little. My past girlfriends—Erin not included, since Rose was already overseas when she and I got together—had more often than not overlooked my little sister. I’m ashamed to say I wasn’t always as worried or observant about it as I could’ve been, but once I realized, it actually helped me sort out the pretenders.
It didn’t matter what my first impression might have been or how in possible-love I thought I was—if they didn’t want to know my family, I didn’t want to know them.
“Yeah, I worked for a non-profit our aunt”—Rose pointed at me—“runs. Liam has a veterinary practice called Pupp’s.” The sadness was replaced by pride. “He’s so good at what he does. We met after I found Wilbur and brought him to Liam’s clinic to be checked out. Well, after I hit him with a baseball bat.”
I did a double-take. “You hit a dog with a baseball bat? That . . . that doesn’t sound like you.”
“No, I hit Liam with a baseball bat. Disguised as a sign.”
“I am so confused. Why was it disguised as a sign?”
“I was marching for animal rights.”
“And decided the best way to achieve animal rights was to belt some poor, unsuspecting vet—who helps animals professionally—with a baseball bat that you’d smuggled in as a sign?” I turned to Bianca. “Have they grown on you yet?”
She grinned. “Maybe we should leave before she gets her baseball bat out?”
“It’s more likely to be a cricket bat over here.”
“I’m not one hundred percent sure I know what that is and I sure as hell don’t want to find out with a shot to the head.”
“At least you have a decent amount of hair. I imagine it’d offer some sort of protection.”
Her laugh muffled the next words out of her mouth, so I just sat there and waited for her to calm down enough that I could understand her. I’d enjoyed our back-and-forth and listening to her laugh reminded me of the first few minutes of our flight, when I’d sent her into hysterics.
“If you two are finished over there?” Rose asked, exasperation in her tone. Fake exasperation, I was pretty sure, but I looked over at her to be sure.
Sure enough, she was looking as amused as I felt, and Bianca was acting. “Sorry. So, you found a dog, assaulted a man and fell in love? Is that right?”
“Technically, I assaulted the man first, then found the dog, but yes, that’s the gist.”
Leaning over the table, I lowered my voice and asked her the most important question of all: “Are you happy?” Because for too long, she hadn’t been. And that wasn’t okay.
We might tease, we might even fight, but fuck if I was going to sit back and let something or someone make my sister unhappy. That was my job and had been since the day she was born.
Before you ask, no, I didn’t ask for my parents to send her back and brin
g me a brother.
I asked them to sell her and use the money to get me more toys. But once I realized that wasn’t going to happen, I dived into my big brother role.
“I’ll be happier when I’m back with Liam and Wilby, but yes,” Rose whispered back, making me forget that I’d tried to adios my sister. “Are you? Happy?” Her low question was accompanied by a pointed look at Bianca, who was still working on controlling her laughter, now just stray bursts of giggles.
Unable to resist the call of Bianca, I took a sec to lean down and press a kiss to her halo of curls—quelling the wicked thoughts that once more sprung to life—before turning back to my sister. “I will be.”
As long as Bianca agreed to give us that chance.
8
Bianca
“They remind me of my friend, Ashton, and her family.” Resting against the headrest of the car, I rolled my head to look at Lucas. “And that’s both a big compliment and a little bit of an insult.”
Lucas snuck a quick glance over at me, laughing. “Oh yeah, in what way?”
“In what way do they remind me of Ashton’s family or in what way is it a compliment and an insult?”
“Both, obviously.”
“Well, Ashton’s family talk over the top of one another, have these ridiculously long text chats where it’s impossible to keep up, and never, ever stop ribbing each other.” I smiled at the thought of Ashton, Austin, and Aaron. “It’s terrifying to see them in action.”
“You don’t need to explain the compliment/insult thing anymore. I think I get it.” He tapped his hands on the steering wheel, drumming along with a song on the radio I didn’t recognize. “Ashton is the friend you called from my phone earlier, right?”
“Yep. She and I went to college together.”
“And you’re still friends?”
“Of course, aren’t you still friends with the people you went to college with?”
“No. Max and Ryan—”
“From the photos?”