“I gotta see this.” Joey manages to get his big head just outside the door before I can extricate myself from the sand trap of a couch.
I grab him by the collar of his white tee, pulling him back inside and slamming the door shut a little too loudly for my liking.
He laughs as he regains his balance. “Definitely about the redhead.”
“Weren't the two of you just fighting? How the fuck are you suddenly on the same side?”
Ginelle slides down the arm to lounge in my vacated spot. “See, when you have more than one sibling, you learn to put your allegiances wherever best suits your needs at the time.” Joey nods as if she'd just imparted some sage wisdom.
“Remind me to thank Michael for not being insane,” I say. I remain by the door, not trusting either of my cousins.
Ginelle sighs, pulling her phone from her pocket. “Tell us what's up or I'll just text Lucy and she'll tell me.”
“Oh, so you two are talking again?” I ask.
“We're always talking,” she says dismissively. At least she has the decency to deliver the lie without looking me in the eyes. My cousin's off-and-on-again relationship with one of my best friends was a mess worthy of a B-plot on a prestige lesbian drama.
I pull her phone from her hands. “Hey!” She jumps up to try and grab it. Ginelle may be pushing six feet, but I still have a few inches on her, so I easily keep it out of reach.
“You are not going to ask Lucy shit because Lucy doesn't know shit, and she doesn't need to.” I move to hand the phone back, only to pull it away once more. “Neither does Oliver.”
“What you're saying is there is something to know,” Joey says.
“This is why family businesses fail.” Pushing past them both, I walk over to the desk, pull out my keys and wallet, and shove them into my pockets.
My cousins remain close to the door, both practically salivating as they wait for me to give them a morsel of anything.
I rest my hands on the buttery soft wood of the old desk, my shoulders sagging. “Fine.” I am absolutely going to regret this. Not right now. But eventually, one or both of them will make sure I regret telling them anything. I just know it. “Yes, it's the cute redhead at the bar.”
“I fucking knew it!” Ginelle pumps her fist in the air. “She's so cute and so your type, also I love her?—”
“Let the man finish.” Joey nudges his little sister's shoulder.
“Sorry.”
“Anyway,” I straighten and rub a hand down my face, “my mouth may have gotten ahead of my brain, and I asked her if she wanted to grab dinner.”
We all stare at one another for a few breaths. “And she said...” Joey hedges.
“Yes. Why else would I be like this?”
Ginelle squeals while Joey says, “I'm missing the problem here.”
I throw my hands up, letting them fall just a bit to cradle the back of my head. “I don't know. I...” I turn my eyes to the ceiling, huffing a loud breath. “I don't know where to go or what she likes or what to say or...I just...I don't know.” I shrug, letting my arms hang limp at my sides.
“Proud of you for taking a swing, man.” Joey ties his apron, sated with this little bit of personal drama. “But I'm useless here. Gin, you take over. I gotta get the grill going.”
When the door shuts behind him, Ginelle turns a warm smile on me. “This is a good thing.”
“Don't do that shit.”
“What?”
“That whole condescending, good-for-you thing. I hate it.” I didn't need coddling or to be told the most mediocre shit was a great feat.
“I'm not being condescending, you ass. It's just,” she leans back against the door, “it's been a while since Kevin, and it's good to see you putting yourself back out there. It's hard after a nasty breakup. For anybody.”
Much to my surprise, I didn’t react to hearing my ex's name. Which, I suppose, shouldn't be shocking since it has been almost three years, but when someone you considered spending your life with decides you're just not worth the effort anymore, that shit lingers.
