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She huffs, still refusing to look at me. “You’re mystepbrother.”
“No, I’m not. Our parents are—”
“Still together,” she says before sliding off the desk and wrapping her arms around herself. “It doesn’t matter if it’s not for much longer.”
“Adelina—” My words are cut short by the deep rumble of my father’s Mustang.
Adelina jerks back as if we’ve been caught, her eyes widening as she quickly shuffles around the desk to look out the window. Headlights flash over the entrance as he pulls into the driveway to park, illuminating her blushed face.
My jaw hardens, my molars grinding at my dad’s perfect fucking timing.Fuck.
“Come on.” Adelina’s arms tighten around herself as she reaches for the door handle, fear of being seen alone with me likely driving her feet forward. I want to reach out, to stop her and tell her that I’ve waited too damn long to let them ruin us yet again, but the time the words work from my throat, she opens the door and disappears down the narrow steps.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, a deep-seated bout of irritation springing roots in my gut as I follow behind her. We were so close—Iwas so close—and now the chance of telling her how I feel, how I’vealwaysfelt, are fucking dashed. At least, for right now.
We make it back into the kitchen just as her mother opens the front door. A swirl of dark hair flashes in front of me as Adelina hurries around the counter, scooting on one of the barstools in an attempt to appear completely normal. Despite her ruddy checks, her sweater askew, and hair that appears as if she’s just run down a flight of steps, I’d say she looks only slightly aroused.
Mary and my dad enter the kitchen, both seemingly annoyed, judging by their thinned lips, but perk up the moment they see us. Dad is carrying a few bags from the store, and Mary is holding a pie box. She pushes back her oversized glasses as she beams at us.
“My baby.” She holds her arms open to Adelina, who swirls in her seat, a tight smile on her face.
They embrace, and over their heads, I meet my father’s eye. He shakes his head, lifting the bags, an apologetic corner of his lip curling. “Sorry we’re late. The snow let up for a minute, and Mary was adamant we try to at least make it for dessert.”
Mary releases Adelina, whose blush deepens when she moves to hug my father. “Of course I wanted to make it, Todd. It’s Thanksgiving.”
I take the pie from Mary as I wrap an arm around her, my attention planted firmly on Adelina, who continues to avoid my eye. “I can heat up the food for you.”
“Such a sweet boy.” Mary scoffs and leans away to pat my chest. Her dark eyes, which remind me so much of her daughter, are shimmering. “That won’t be necessary. We ate at the lodge. But I would love to sit down and have some pie.”
Adelina helps my dad unpack the few groceries. “Oh, Mom, I don’t think I could fit another bite.”
Lie. She barely put anything on her plate earlier, presumably, so we wouldn’t have to sit at the table for too long.
Mary shakes her head, her short black strands whipping back and forth. “Nonsense. There’s always room for dessert.”
True, and I haven’t had one of Adelina’s apple pie cookies yet. “I’ll grab the plates.”
Finally, Adelina’s eyes snap to mine. Her pupils are wide, her lips slightly parted as if to protest, but when I give her a quick wink, she sucks in a quiet gasp and looks away, her blush stretching down her neck.
While I absolutely hate that our parents interrupted our moment in the treehouse, I can’t deny the wheels in my head that are turning, and I consider how hot it will be later when I pay her a visit. She’d be mistaken if she thought their arrival truly stopped anything. It only prolonged it.
I’ve waited eight years, so what’s thirty more minutes?
***
Turns out a lot can happen in thirty minutes. Seated at the island, small talk ensues as Mary and my father talk about the latest week of their lives and ask us trivial things we’ve already discussed in the group chat. For the majority of the conversation, my eyes linger on Adelina. Her pulse quickens in her throat when she feels me staring, and she becomes more fidgety, the tension in the air thickening with each passing second. The few times she’s glanced my way, I let my eyes drop to her lips, my intentions clear. And on each of those occasions, her teeth sink into her lip before she forces herself to take another small bite out of her apple pie cookies.
We play this game until her mother begins to collect the empty plates, apologizing again for missing dinner. Adelina reassures her it’s fine as my father falls into his recliner and switches the TV to watch the after-game report of the football game he missed.
I put one arm around Mary, hugging her goodnight. “I actually have to be up early so I’m going to call it a night. Thank you for everything.”
She nods, but a protest is clear in her extra squeeze on my shoulder. “You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m receiving an Aston I’m pretty excited about.”
My father turns in his chair. “What time? I want to come by.”
I laugh as I walk over and put a hand on his shoulder, giving Adelina one last glance. “Let me have a look at it before you try to put your grubby little hands on it, Dad.”
