She frowned over at us, obviously distracted. Her blond hair was threaded with silver and her typical braid was tangled in the various bags she was carrying. Party planning in full swing. “I figured we’d make burgers and hotdogs as well.”
I widened my eyes comically and Lance kicked me under the table. I shook my head and picked up half of my sandwich. Some things never changed. We’d get a few blackened Ballpark franks and the favorite son would be eating like a king with his court of hockey royalty. Typical in the Valentine household.
That was if Keaton actually showed up at the party. Last year he’d been on his boat, drunk. Then again, his old team had won the Stanley Cup and was a hefty reminder about what he’d lost.
I stabbed my finger into my sandwich for a roasted pepper. I felt bad for my brother, but he was steeped in his anger and the world had to go on no matter how unfair it was that he fucked up his knees and couldn’t play anymore.
Maybe he’d actually stop being an asshole and celebrate life if his old team was in town. A bunch of his fellow high school teammates had ended up on various teams. Some went to the AHL, a few went to Europe, and one or two actually ended up in the NHL like Keaton—though on different teams.
“Hey.”
I looked up and Lance gave me a lopsided grin. “She doesn’t mean anything by it.”
“Doesn’t she?” I pushed the sandwich away.
“Phee.”
“It’s fine. I’m used to it.”
Lance reached out to touch my arm. “What’s going on with you?”
I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t have time to do a deep dive of my childhood bullshit at the moment. I had it better than most and had nothing to complain about. Not really. The bell over the door dragged me out of my stupid head and I watched my mother head down the street. She didn’t even bother to come over and talk to us.
“Julie on a mission,” I murmured.
“You know how she gets. Tunnel vision just like you and Lib.”
I sat back in the chair. Was I like her?
“Bella, are you ready to discuss the wall?” I glanced over at Romeo. “Yes. Lance is going to take the rest of my sandwich home.”
Lance frowned. “You’re not going to eat it?”
“Nah. You enjoy it. You should come by for dinner sometime. I’ll make your favorite.”
He perked up. “Can you make the big meatballs?”
I laughed. “Of course.”
“Will your boyfriend be there?”
I flicked a curl peeking out of his baseball hat. “Maybe.”
“Yes!”
I laughed and met Romeo at the cash registers. “So, what did you have in mind?”
Work was always easier to deal with. Especially when I didn’t want to deal with my family.
Romeo rubbed his hands together. “I have so many plans, cara.”
This was the important part. Seeing the joy and excitement on my clients’ faces.
“Then let’s get to work.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Dutch
