AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Finley grimaces. “I’m sorry.”
“What, you didn’t tell her I would be here? I mean, I’m her favorite punching bag, and you couldn’t even give her a heads up to make sure she brings her boxing gloves?” Taylor props a hand on her hip.
She wants to fight, the urge outlined in the hard set of her jaw, the fire in her eyes.
It triggers a responding blaze in my gut along with a sharp arrow of guilt that I tug out and cast aside. I’ve been holding onto my anger at Taylor for so long I can’t let go of it. It’s become a part of me, the sticky glue holding all my shattered pieces together.
Finley rubs her temples. “No fighting, please. Can we have a nice family dinner?”
I shrug. “Maybe you should have found a nicer family.”
“Hardy, har, har.” She glares at me, then flips a pleading gaze to Taylor.
Taylor lifts her hands. “I’m not saying a word if she doesn’t.”
“Fine,” I say.
“Fine,” Taylor repeats, slightly louder.
Finley looks back and forth between us. “Good.”
Taylor rolls her eyes, spinning around and stalking deeper into the house.
In the kitchen, Archer hands a bowl of freshly grated parmesan to Jake, who takes it into the dining room.
I shut the door behind me and pull off my jacket to hang it on the coat rack.
“Did you find the plates?” Finley calls.
“Yeah. Luke has them. We’re setting the table now,” Taylor calls back.
Luke says something, the words unintelligible over the sound of Archer and Finley in the kitchen and the humming of the fan over the oven, but his voice is a recognizable tug in my midsection.
So is Taylor’s responding giggle, but for entirely different reasons.
I clench my jaw shut to prevent any kind of growl or curse from emerging and focus on Finley. “Is there anything I can help with?”
“No, I think we got it covered.”
We head into the dining room where the others are taking their seats around the chunky wood table.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” Finley asks Luke. “We have lemonade and tea and water, and that’s about it.” She gives him an apologetic wince. “Sorry, we don’t keep any alcohol in the house.”
“It’s my fault,” Jake says. “I’m the troubled child of the family. Will you pass the garlic bread?”
Luke hands him the platter of bread. “It’s fine. I don’t drink either. Lemonade sounds great, thanks.”
Archer sits at the head with Jake, Luke, and Taylor all lined up down his left and an open spot on his right for Finley.
When Finley returns with a pitcher of lemonade, I take the seat next to her.
Once we’re all seated and passing around food, Finley glances over at Luke. “I hope you’ll be able to join us for dinner more while you’re here.”
“We’ll see,” I tell her. “We have to get the lineup set and polished as much as possible before the producer arrives next weekend.”
Taylor coughs, the sound forced.
“What?” I ask.
