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Conor, turning to see what I was talking about, took note of his sisters-in-law and waved at them. “In a clockwise direction: Aoife, Inessa, Camille, Savannah, and Aela.”
“Ooh, Aela’s the one with green hair?” Cin asked.
“Yeah.”
“And Aoife’s the redhead?”
“She is. You’ll like her, Cin,” Conor enthused. “She’s a great baker. She went viral last year over—”
That was D, outta there. She’d already headed to the door and was banging on it as if the brownies I knew Aoife was famous for were fresh out of the oven and waiting for her to devour them.
Me?
I was just focused on Savannah.
Her eyes were narrowed upon me, lips pursed in irritation. That glare took me back to the many times, too many to count in total honesty, where I’d forced my way into her bunk on the tour bus, sobbing my eyes out because of something my dad had done. She’d glaredforme then. This was justatme.
For someone who hated being at odds with her, I did it often. The last couple years of talking shit through with Conor made me wonder if I tested her—tested everyone in my life if I were being honest—because I was just waiting for them to abandon me.
And when they did, instead of getting hurt, I could be like, ‘See, I knew they wouldn’t stick around.’
The glimpse into my nature made me fidget, until Conor rumbled, “Think Savannah needs to use the bathroom.”
His insight had me hiding a laugh. “Think that’s less to do with constipation and more with her being mad at me for ghosting her.”
How was that my voice? I sounded like I’d choked on a frog.
“Ah, well. You’re getting good at asking for forgiveness. Say that you’re sorry and mean it and I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”
“You’re more generous than she is.”
He snorted and curved his arm around me as he guided us toward the front door. “You’re my penguin. I can’t be at odds with you. Where would the logic be in that?”
“We’re not penguins,” I pointed out. “We’re very much humans. Not birds.”
Rolling his eyes, he groused, “Of course, you’d be one of the freaks who never watchedFriends. What is it with you and pop culture?”
“I saw one episode and wanted to shoot myself. That dude shouting, ‘Pivot,’ was so fucking annoying.” I chuckled at his gasp of outrage. “Pivot!! And I don’t hate pop culture. I just avoid it at all costs.”
“You really are the antichrist.”
I smirked up at him. “Admitting to not watchingFriendswas what it took to figure that out?”
“There’s just no helping some people.” Pitifully, he shook his head but tapped his finger against my nose. As I swatted it away, he continued, “Savannah loves you. She won’t be mad for long.”
Nodding, I mumbled, “I’m used to her being pissy with me. That’s how we spent most of our fourteenth year on this damn planet.”
He snorted but fell silent as Aoife appeared in the doorway and finally opened it up.
Cin, ever polite, asked, “Did you make brownies?”
Because Aoife hadn’t been raised in a barn, she frowned, her gaze switching between Conor, whom she knew, and the strange person she’d never met who was asking for baked goods. “Well, yes, but they’re for dessert—”
“Dessert makes a great appetizer,” was Cin’s cheerful retort. “Can I have one, please?”
“Yeah, um, sure.” Aoife frowned at Conor. “Conor, who is this?”
He shot her a happy grin that twisted my heart into a knot. That happiness was because of me. It fucked with my head that I was the source of that joy.
