reed
. . .
Catalina had said she wanted a family dinner on Saturday, but since she’s impatient and wants things her way, here we are, a day later, after I fingered Layla in my bar.
Surprisingly, she hasn’t asked why Layla is here early, which is good because once Catalina prys, she doesn’t stop and will scream at you until she gets answers.
I don’t know how I’m going to focus the whole time without thinking about Layla squirting all over my hand.
Christ, she’s poured her sunshine into my veins, and I can’t get enough.
Shaking my head, I take in my surroundings so I don’t look like a lunatic, thinking to myself.
Carter and Catalina’s house smells like rosemary and butter, the walls vibrate with everyone’s laughter, and every inch of the table is covered; half-empty plates, wine glasses, crumpled napkins, and Leo’s baby bottle sitting close to a bowl of mashed potatoes.
Maverick’s in full dad mode.
He’s got Leo strapped to his chest, bouncing him whilehis other hand shovels food into his mouth, his other hand gesturing wildly as he tells a story that’s way too animated.
“So there I am, three a.m., no sleep, no clue what’s happening, and this tiny dude—” he looks down at Leo with utter adoration, “—decides to unleash hell all over my shirt. I thought I’d seen horror, but this, this was next level.”
Amelia groans as she buries her face in her hands. “He’s exaggerating.”
“I am not!” Maverick says, his voice full of fake outrage. “I’m traumatized! I went to change him, and he—he giggled,or farted.He knew exactly what he did.”
“Babe,” Amelia says, trying not to laugh, “he’s three months old.”
Maverick points dramatically. “So!”
The table erupts into laughter.
Catalina lets out a huff, turning her attention towards Layla, who’s sitting right next to me.
She tilts her head, squinting across the table, as she leans forward, analyzing.
“Oh my God.” Catalina’s finger lifts, pointing right at Layla. “Layla LeBlanc,” she says slowly, reverently, “you dirty girl.”
Heat crawls up my neck, burning its way across my cheeks, and I smother myself in my bourbon glass to hide it.
My stomach, though, drops straight out of my ass.
“What?” Layla says, already panicking, but trying to hide the shakiness in her voice.
Catalina practically vibrates. “Brian gave you a nice hickey on your neck.”
Layla spits her water clear across the table, choking, coughing, and slapping her hand down on the table. “I—WHAT—CATALINA?—”
I stareat my plate.
Relax, Reed, there’s no way they’d suspect anything.
My ears are on fucking fire. My jaw tightens. I consider, briefly, whether I can still disappear into the woods and never be seen again.
Maverick loses his damn mind, laughing so hard, all while Leo is strapped to his chest. “NO FUCKING WAYYY,” he shouts.
Carter groans, and Amelia drops her head onto the table, letting out a long sigh before glaring at her husband.
Catalina is squealing. “Oh, babe, that’s not subtle at all,” she continues. “That man said ‘this one’s mine’ and signed it in purple.”
