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Ronan’s goddamn mother calls non stop, to check if we are doingungodlythings, since we are a family, and that is not allowed. As if that would stop me or as if I would actually pick up the phone mid-stroke. We are both grown human beings andnot fucking related. I scold myself every time I catch my eyes tracing the line of her curves, or when she comes up so close to me that we are literally sharing air. I feel my body calling to her, and I am trying my best to resist.
My dad suggests a family lunch as a way for us to celebrate branching out, and Tia agrees, but this time she will bring her piece of shit boyfriend too. I agree just to spite Christine, but also for another reason to spend some time close to Ronan. It’s never enough. I’ve gotten to know her pretty well over these last few days and I feel our connection deepening, which also means the urge to resist her is lessening.
***
The tables are set, there’s a drink in my hand and lots of overthinking about this whole situation. Jensen is playing some bug game on his unsilenced phone, so we are all alerted when someone messages him on Grindr. I mean, not everyone in this room knows what the sound is from, thankfully, but still. Ronan enters the room carrying Webster, and I can’t help but imagine her with our child. Would she be happy, would she love her?
What the fuck, Noah!? Who is “her”?
Gregory snatches Web from Ronan’s arms, which makes my stomach twist, and takes him to the dining room. They've just met, but that doesn't stop Gregory from being the rudest asshole ever, not that I expected him to be any different. Even though I hate this whole situation, my skin tingles the moment Ronan finally has the time to notice my hair tie. Or should I say hair-panties? Her green lace holds my messy bun tightly in place, and once her eyes drop to mine, I wink at her. Her cheeks flush on the spot.
We all follow Gregory silently, but I see a twitch in Tiana’s jaw as she approaches Ronan and apologizes.
Christine brings out the meal, as my dad wears a proud look on his face, smiling at the bowls.
“I made sarma,” he says, puffing his chest. “I used your grandma’s recipe, so I believe it’s going to be awesome.”
“It sure is, dad!” Jensen yells, putting two on his plate, and we all nod in agreement.
Christine nears him, and adds one more. Jensen winces at her closeness once she taps his head, saying it’s for him to grow big muscles. Ronan snaps her eyes to me, and catches Jensen’s hand, as he is almost bending the fork in half.
For most of the lunch we chat randomly, nibbling on our sarma and cornbread. Here and there a wave of awkward silence washes over us, but Webster manages to flick a grain of rice from his mothers plate or hiccups after sipping his milk, and we all laugh. All except stupid Gregory.
“Did you teach this child fuckingnothing?” he snaps at my twin, his face beet red. “He is acting like a caveman.”
“He is eight months old, Greg.” Tia whispers, lowering her eyes.
“What did you just say to her?” Jensen lifts his gaze from his plate, as I lift Web from his seat, and put him into Tia’s arms.
“Take him out of here.” I say to her, she immediately turns on her heel and strides for her old room.
I round the table, as the rest of our company stays dead silent. Ronan’s eyes follow me as I move.
“You heard him, Gregory. What did you just say?” I stand behind him.
“I said she doesn’t teach him shit!” he yells at my face.
“She doesn’t, right?” I nod my head, Balkan blood in my veins boils. The need to protect our sibling simmers in both Jensen and me, before our father even has the time to react. “Where were you three weeks ago? Where were you a month ago? Six months ago? Boy’s trips, right?”
“Yes, I have a life to live,” he says, as if matter of fact.
I am stunned by his stupidity and the audacity he has. I grab his collar and pull him out of his chair and Jensen grabs his arms.
“Maybe, just maybe, you could help raise a child you somehow managed to make, instead of going on trips and strip clubs. There’s still glitter on your shirt, you fucking piece of shit!” Jensen screams as he pulls him through the house, our dad walking in front of us, removing obstacles and opening the doors.
Without saying anything, I run past my dad and open the front door, pushing the asshole out and slamming it back into his face. We go back to the dining room and back to eating our food. Tia and Webster join us again once she is calm enough to be around people. He is giggling and waving at us like nothing happened. I will do anything to protect this child’s innocence. I know how much this shit hurts Tiana, but she refuses to listen. Every time I feel like we might take a step forward, she falls right back into the role of his servant and live-in babysitter.
This family drama is getting worse day by day.
“I am not going to say anything.” dad whispers, then takes a few deep breaths and continues, “Actually, I am. This is not the man for you Tiana, I understand you have this sweet boy together, but you are raising him alone, sweetheart. And, doNOTexcuse my language, but sweet pea, he treats you like shit.”
“I know, dad… I’m sorry,” she says, wiping her tears.
“There is nothing you should be sorry for, but please take care of yourself. My door is always open for you and Webster. I did not raise you to go through stuff like this.” He cups my twin’s cheek, softening his voice. “Your mother didn’t carry you for nine months right beneath her heart just so you could be mentally abused. If you want to come home, come home.”
“Okay, okay, let’s not go that far for now.” Christine adds, “They must’ve hit a rough patch, it’s going to be better.”
We all snap our attention to her, but she doesn’t realize what she’s just said. Does she think it’s okay for men to do shit like this? Hit up strip joints whilst their wives and babies sit at home? The yelling? The abuse? Her and Gregory would get along very well, and he might actually be in her preferred age group.
