They both step back and I take them in, really look at them, and I'm struck by how stunning they are. They're both dressed to the nines, as usual. Perfect hair, great style. Cricket's dark hair is swept up and pinned in the back, and she's wearing a flowy white jumper with a big white belt, a silk scarf and white pumps. She's got a cute white rhinestone jacket over the whole thing.
Harper, the wild one, is in a fire engine red leather skirt with a cream blouse, a mid-length red leather jacket, and red stilettos that could probably double as weapons.
Harper looks around the condo and lets out a low whistle. “This place kicks your place's ass, Ry.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I know, right. Wait 'til you see the kitchen fully.”
Spence comes walking out of the kitchen then, apparently having deflated his situation, and Harper's eyes go wide as saucers. “Holy Fifty Shades of Gay. It's even better in person.” She turns to me, mouth hanging open. “Is he even real?”
Cricket smacks Harper on the arm, but she's grinning. I laugh and practically purr, “Oh, he's very real.”
Cricket gives me this soft look, the one that says she sees everything, and says, “We have so much to catch up on, brother.”
Spence approaches and extends his hand, all polished manners and lawyer formality. “Hi ladies. I'm Spencer Stark.”
Cricket slaps his hand away with a huff. “First of all, we're from the South. We hug.” She steps closer, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Second, we've seen you naked, no need to be so formal.”
Spence groans, his ears going pink, and Harper snickers. Cricket wraps Spence in a hug before he can protest, and I watch his stiff posture slowly melt as he tentatively hugs her back. Harper is waiting right behind Cricket, and when it's her turn, she hugs Spence so hard he actually grunts.
Harper releases him and fans herself dramatically. “Even better than I imagined.”
I laugh and hold up my hands. “Alright. Enough, you two. Give Spence a minute to acclimate.” I reach for their coats. “Give me your coats. You can drop your bags anywhere in the living room.”
The girls shuck out of their jackets, and I put them in the coat closet, catching Spence's slightly dazed expression in my peripheral vision. Poor guy. He has no idea what he's in for.
Then I turn back to the group and say, “Spence, you should give them a tour while I start prepping dinner.”
Spence looks a little panicked, his eyes darting to me with a silent plea for rescue, and I bark a laugh. “Don't worry, they don't bite.”
Harper sets down her bag and grins wickedly. “Well, I do. But I charge extra for that.”
Cricket scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Don't lie. You give it up for an appetizer and a cheap Chardonnay.”
Harper gawps, clutching her chest in mock offense. “No. It's an appetizer andtwocheap Chardonnays. I'm classy like that.”
Spence looks between the three of us, his expression shifting from overwhelmed to something like wonder. Then his eyes land on me, and he says, deadpan, “It's like you made replicates of yourself and gave them boobs.”
The room goes silent for a moment. Then we all break into laughter. Harper hooks her arm in Spence's and beams up at him. “I think I'll keep you. Now be a gentleman and show us your place.”
Spence takes them on a tour, Harper chattering a mile a minute and Cricket asking pointed questions about square footage and furniture, and I head into the kitchen. I pull on one of my aprons, tie it behind my back, and get to work on chopping shallots and smashing garlic, the familiar rhythm of cooking settling my nerves even as I listen to my sisters' delighted exclamations echoing through the condo.
My knife is halfway through a shallot when I hear a door open down the hall, followed by Spence's voice. “This is the master—”
He's abruptly cut off by Harper shouting, “KITTY!”
Spence’s voice follows, “Oh. My. God.”
I'm laughing so hard I have to put the knife down, bracing myself against the counter. Between the onions and laughing, my eyes are leaking. The moment is sheer perfection. I wipe the wetness from my eyes and softly murmur to the empty room, “Welcome to the family, Spence.”
Then I still as realization dawns on me.
He really is it for me, isn't he? I mean, it's not a complete revelation. I've slowly been trying to convince him to simply take some next steps. To kiss me, damn it. And I knew my heart had already decided he was mine. I guess I hadn't considered the “forever” part of “mine.” In this moment, seeing him with my sisters, the awareness hits me like a truck.
He’s not just “my guy” or “my someday.” He’s my everything. I’ve been nudging him toward first-and-ten for months—now I want the whole damn touchdown.
I just need to get him into the end zone.
With a sense of resolve, I pick up my phone from the counter and do what I should have done yesterday after my father's post on Lexicon. I snap a quick selfie with my apron—this one says,I LIKE MY BUTT RUBBEDin bold letters across my chest—and start a post on Instagram.
