Page 85 of 6 Clues Your Nemesis Loves You

Then there’s Cal. He’s talking to Mom, nodding and smiling his congenial smile. He’s the brother who sees the silver lining. The one who puts everyone before himself and probably does deals with the devil to solve our problems. If he’s stressed and worried about this meeting, I don’t see a hint of it.

Unlike my predictable brothers, I haven’t resorted to my usual modes of self-defense. Not one joke has been uttered since I walked in here.

“Do you want water?” Maggie asks me. I wasn’t sure what to expect with her since my blurted I love you, but she showed up as promised. She’s been sweet and kind, shooting concerned glances my way, asking how she can help, but she’s also felt distant.

I wrap my arm around her. “No, thanks. I’ll just puke it up.”

She rubs my stomach but doesn’t tuck in closer like she normally would. “Are you more worried about your dad’s book or telling your brothers about the money?”

“Yes,” I say.

She gives my abdomen another pat. “Everything will be fine.”

Before my nervous stomach folds in on itself, Mom calls us into the living room. Once inside, no one sits. I don’t even call dibs on the divan-chaise-longue-whatever, which is incredibly comfortable but will do nothing to alleviate my building ulcer.

I really don’t know which part of this meeting I’m dreading most. Talking again about my reunion with Dad will bring back the ugly feelings I’ve been trying to forget. Hearing what Mom learned, how upset and mad she might be, has the potential to break me or provoke my anger. Probably ruin my ability to rationally explain about Dad’s guilt money.

I search for saliva in my mouth and attempt to swallow. It’s a Herculean effort.

Mom surveys her boys and takes a deep breath, but I step forward and clear my throat. “You all know I recently met with Dad,” I say, stealing the floor. Whatever Mom says will only make me feel worse. Better to get my announcement over with.

My brothers wait on me, faces tense and unforgiving. I look to Mom for approval. She nods her encouragement.

“So.” The tension in the room balloons. Locating my saliva gets harder. “Dad dyes his hair,” I blurt. “Awful dye job. Pretty sure there will be a comb-over soon.”

And there we have it, my ill-timed humor resuscitated to make everything awkward.

Jake rolls his eyes.

Cal nods sagely. “Good intel.”

Desmond’s face is a picture of frustration. He appears to be rehearsing for a role in the classic sixties movie This Man Must Die.

E smirks at him. “I feel it’s my duty to explain to Sadie that you look most like Dad and are heading for comb-over land. I wonder if she’ll cancel the wedding.”

Des sucks on his teeth. “The only thing getting canceled is your invitation.”

“Lennon,” Mom says, not letting her idiot sons distract her from why we’re here. “It’s okay. Whatever your father said or did, we won’t be angry with you.”

I glance at Maggie. She keeps her distance but gives me a small nod.

I forge on, the words less jammed in my dry throat. “Aside from the dye job, he wanted to apologize for what he did, but it was pretty clear he was just going through the motions. He didn’t care about me or ask about any of you, which I should have expected but kind of didn’t. Regardless of that unpleasantness, the main reason he wanted to meet was to give me banking information—an account he set up in my name, but the money is for all of us, and there’s a fair bit of it.”

“I will not touch his dirty money.” Desmond’s already blowing a gasket. “Tell him to flush it down the toilet or give it to charity. How does he even have access to that kind of cash? Is he laundering again?”

“None of us is touching his blood money,” Jake barks, laying down the law.

Cal holds up a hand. “Can we let Lennon finish? He’s not done.”

“Or we can bet on how many seconds it’ll take for Des to punch a wall.” E taps an edgy beat on his elbow.

Des flips him the finger. Mom sighs her here-we-go-again sigh, as the rest of us start calling out numbers, guessing how soon Des will explode: five, two, three, four-point-five.

“Are we playing guess the number?” Sadie joins our tense family and fits herself into Desmond’s side.

“Yeah,” Des grumbles. “We’re guessing E’s IQ.”

He kisses her head, and his aggressive facade melts away. Sadie is his center of gravity. Always has been, always will be. Serenity that I understand, which makes Maggie’s reserved behavior all the more unnerving. I want her arms wrapped around me, holding my center together. But her arms are folded over her stomach and she’s studying the floor, like she’s lost in her own thoughts.