Page 61 of Berries and Greed


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Nooooooo!

“I’ll get it,” I rasped, unfurling from the floor and trying not to stomp as I left the living room.

Whoever the fuck it was could go to hell. Had Beryl actually been about to kiss me? My legs were a little shaky and my hearts were still rabbiting in my chest as I yanked open the front door, already scowling.

I blinked in shock at the sight of my mother and sister on the front step, dread creeping into my gut. Oh god, no.

“Why such a thunderous face, kushka?” Mom was already bustling inside and presenting her cheek for a kiss. “You aren’t happy to see your mother?”

“Mom,” I sputtered, kissing her cheek in a daze. My eyes drifted to my sister as she swept inside, still occupied by her phone. “Kiti. What—”

“We were in the neighbourhood and thought we’d stop by,” Mom said airily as she shed her coat and held it out to me. I took it automatically. “You haven’t visited in so long. Not even when Nuni won his latest contemporary architecture award for the nesthouse in the—”

“In the Blackgrass Building. Yeah, I know,” I grumbled, glaring at my sister as she dumped her coat over Mom’s in my arms. “I was busy. And he’s already won, like, fifty awards, so I doubt he even cares about them anymore.”

Mom tutted, peeling off her gloves and dropping them carelessly on the console table. “You should still support your brother, kushka.”

“I texted him,” I muttered, dumping the coats on the little chair next to the table. “And he replied with, ‘thanks, d-bag’.”

Kiti snickered, patting my cheek as she sauntered past, making me scowl at her. “You are a d-bag.”

“Takes one to know one.” I immediately cringed after saying it, hoping Beryl hadn’t heard from the living room.

Oh god. Beryl. How was I going to explain—

Mom froze on her way to the kitchen, and I realised Beryl had come out of the living room and was standing there watching us. Shit, so she’d heard me acting like a little kid. But that wasn’t my fault. Kiti and I were the two youngest, and while we weren’t exactly young anymore, we tended to devolve into bickering children when we were together.

“Who’s this?” Mom asked slowly, turning her head to freeze me in place with her piercing gaze.

Before I could say anything, Beryl stepped forward and held out her hand. “I’m Beryl.”

“Beryl,” Mom echoed, clasping Beryl’s hand with both of hers. “Lovely to meet you, darling. I’m Una, Greid’s loving mother. Although apparently I wasn’t loving enough, seeing as he didn’t even feel the need to call me and tell me about his new… friend.”

“Mom,” I grated as Kiti snickered and shoved my arm.

She stepped forward and shook Beryl’s hand, drawling, “Nice to meet you, Beryl. I’m Kiti, Greid’s much better-looking older sister.”

“You’re older by, like, thirty seconds,” I muttered. As Mom bustled Beryl into the kitchen, I added in a whisper, “And you’re not better looking than me, assface.”

“Gonna tell Beryl you said that,” she sing-songed, then tweaked one of the space buns I’d forgotten about. “Nice hair, by the way.”

I didn’t answer, more concerned with what my mom might be saying to Beryl as I trailed after Kiti into the kitchen.

“Still no dining table, kushka.” Mom tutted the moment I entered. “Soon I’ll start thinking you don’t actually want to have us all over for dinner.”

My eyes met Beryl’s, and her mouth twitched. I could tell she’d rightly guessed that was the precise reason why I did not have a dining table.

But then, to my horror, she curiously asked, “Kushka?”

“It means tiny baby,” Kiti eagerly supplied before I could say anything. She grabbed my cheeks, squishing them even as I slapped at her hands. “Tiny, little ugly baby, because Greid was the smallest.”

“He was not an ugly baby, Kiti,” Mom admonished, rifling through her handbag. “He was a precious little chubby-cheeked darling, just like all of my children were. Beryl, do you want to see pictures?”

“Yes,” Beryl said immediately.

“No,” I blurted in horror at the same time.

“Laki—one of my other children—showed me how to put them all on my phone,” Mom told Beryl, finally extracting her phone from her handbag and brandishing it like the weapon it was. “Now, just give me a moment to get to them. Greid, are you going to offer us beverages at any point during our visit, or should we expect to stop for coffee after we leave so we don’t die of thirst on the way home?”

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