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“We’ll have to tell them the truth. Maybe we can tell everyone at Brunch this Sunday.”
I nod, excited about the prospect of being her fake boyfriend. Just not so sure how Devereaux will handle the news.
THREE
GREER
I flit around my kitchen on Sunday, like Martha Stewart on steroids. Fresh brewed coffee wafts through the air while I lay crisp bacon slices on a plate next to plump sausage links. The granite countertop holds an assortment of delicate pastries, muffins, cinnamon rolls, and bagels.
I’ve been hosting brunches at my house for as long as I can remember. It was our thing. My mother and I would go to a restaurant for brunch every Sunday. “Just the girls,” she’d say. Now I feel like I’m carrying on that tradition in my own way.
Today has an added motive, though. If Roman and I are going to make this work, we need everyone close to us on the same page. That means telling my brother, Chloe, and Ledger the truth. We need them to play along to sell this story. Shouldn’t be too hard to do.
As I slide a platter of breakfast burritos on the counter, the doorbell rings. I wipe my hands on my apron and rush to it. When I open the door, Devereaux and Chloe’s infectious smiles greet me.
“Hope you made a lot of food,” Chloe says, blue eyes sparkling. “I’m starving.”
“Have I ever let you down?” I step aside and usher them into the house. “I made a feast.”
“Smells amazing,” she says, rubbing her round belly. “I should go easy, though. Dev will need a forklift to haul me around soon, and I still have two months to go until this baby comes.”
“You look amazing, honey,” Dev says, closing the door behind him. “If we need a forklift, I’ll get us the best one they make. Baby needs to eat.” He kisses the top of her blonde hair, his light brown eyes soft with love.
They’re so sweet it makes my teeth hurt. “That’s oddly the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
He hands me a bouquet with fragrant blooms. “So, what’s the big announcement?”
Dev focuses on me so intently that I shoo away my brother’s question, clutching the array of roses and gerbera daisies tightly in my sweaty hand. “We’ll discuss it over French toast and eggs.”
“Is it about the case?” My brother has no patience. I would imagine having to wait nine months to meet his son or daughter is killing him.
“Kind of.” I pair my vague answer with a sweet-as-pie smile.
“Fine. The twins here yet?” He strides toward the kitchen, leaving Chloe and me alone in the entryway.
“No,” I call after my brother.
“So, what’s really up?” Chloe asks. She’s a detective by trade, so I’m sure she’s eager to unravel the mystery of my big announcement. Now, I’m not so sure I want to tell everyone. It feels like they’ll all know I’ve been fantasizing about Roman since childhood. I should have just kept my mouth shut.
Luckily, I’m saved by the doorbell. I weave around Chloe and fling the door open to find Roman standing there, looking effortlessly casual in a crisp white shirt and dark denim jeans. At first glance, he looks at ease with his smug smile and perfectly tousled dark hair. But something is off. Normally, he just waltzes in, so he must be feeling a little weird to ring the bell.
Chloe must be in my brain, because she says, “Why’d you ring the bell?” She gives him a thoughtful look as he moves into the entryway. Like she’s detecting something going on between the two of us.
I cut through the awkwardness with more awkwardness. “He broke into my house the other day and I was in a compromising situation, so he rings the bell now.”
Chloe rolls her lips inward, gaze darting between us. “There’s a lot to unpack in that statement.” Her hand moves to the side of her belly. “But it will have to wait. I need to sit down. Baby Huxley is playing soccer with my bladder, and I’m already worn out.” She glances at Roman once more. “Something weird is going on here.” She waves her finger between me and Roman.
I laugh. At least I try to, but it comes out all garbled and strangled.
“Is there a party going on in the foyer?” Ledger says as he enters the fray. His dark eyes focus on Roman, and I swear there’s some sort of telepathic twin convo happening between them.
And that’s my cue to morph into the perfect hostess and lead everyone to the kitchen. While they spend a few minutes catching up, gathered around the island, I check on the biscuits in the oven and take a few deep breaths. Now that everyone is here, I don’t know if I can do this.
I catch Roman’s gaze as he steals a slice of bacon and send him a frantic telepathic message, informing him we should wait and reconsider my options. And to stop stealing the bacon. He has the audacity to take another slice and look totally clueless about what I’m trying to tell him. Which is a sign this fake boyfriend thing won’t work if he can’t even read my mind like he can Ledger’s.
“I made you a virgin mimosa,” I say, handing Chloe a flute of orange juice.
“There’s nothing virgin about this.” She gestures to her stomach. “You did this to me,” she says to Devereaux.
