Her lips tighten briefly and she blinks, once, twice. Miss Poker Face has the audacity to smile and shrug like she hasn’t a clue what I’m talking about.
She’s obviously hiding something.
Whatever. She’s been acting weird the whole day. Maybe I should chalk it up to a hormonal imbalance. If her feet weren’t so swollen, she’d insist on making dinner, but I talked her into kicking back and relaxing even though she’s going to be a back seat driver.
“Did you put in the Ro-Tel tomatoes?” she asks, eyeing the pot suspiciously.
See. Backseat driver.“Yeah, and when you’re hanging over the toilet later tonight, puking your little heart out, don’t blame me.”
She gives me that strange smile, the one that tells me she’s keeping a secret and thinks I’m clueless.
The front door slams shut and the stomp of boots coming through the living room echoes closer. Izzy comes racing around the corner with her arms open wide.
Three, two, one.
I turn back toward the stove as the sound of her feet stop, which tells me she’s gone airborne, followed by a grunt as she throws herself at her father. She might be seven, but she’s a total Daddy’s Girl.
“There’s my angel.” His voice rings out in the small kitchen. “And here’s my other angel.”
A minute later, the sound of smacking makes me smile and shake my head. Without looking, I know Brady has Izzy in his arms, and he’s leaning down to plant a wet one on Kat.
“Too much kissing,” Izzy jokes, and I snicker to myself. That kid is my mini-me, much to the chagrin of my sister.
Stirring the pot again, I give them a moment to be lovey-dovey. It makes me strangely emotional to be around them. They’re this perfect family unit. Every day, their house is filled with warmth and love. Even though I try to tell myself I don’t want this, that I don’t want a husband or kids because I know I’m a fuck-up, when I’m around Brady and Kat and little Izzy, I do want the happily ever after so much it makes my chest ache.
Damn Jamie for making me think that was possible.
I clench my jaw.
When I think the love fest is over, I turn around.
“Something smells good,” Brady says, setting his daughter down. “Ethan still coming over for dinner?”
“Mr. Ethan’s coming over?” Izzy grins.
What the… What?
My sister cringes and laughs awkwardly.
Crossing my arms, I squint. “Something you want to tell me, Katherine?”
We never discussed what happened at Ethan’s two days ago. What was the point? It was clear from everyone’s expressions in the living room they heard my argument with Ethan—his mom, his brother, my sister, the kids.
Although, to be honest, I’m not sure what we argued about. It was more about how Ethan made me feel. Like I wasn’t good enough. Like I was putting him out with my very existence. Like he took one glance at me and found me lacking.
The part of me that’s always screwing up wonders if I was being overly sensitive. That maybe Ethan’s just a crabby ass in general, and I was reading into things that weren’t there. Wouldn’t be the first time.
I know Kat was disappointed in me for how I reacted to Ethan. She gets quiet when she thinks I’m being a dick. Like I’m in timeout and she wants me to think about what I’ve done. It’s annoying as hell. And for the last two days, she’s beenreallyquiet around me. I’m typically not one to shy away from saying what’s on my mind, but I have to be careful with my sister. She’s so hormonal that she’ll start crying if I’m too blunt, and I’m never prepared for her tears.
Kat waits until I drag myself to the kitchen table to level me with an innocent smile. “Did I forget to mention that Ethan is joining us for dinner? Must’ve slipped my mind.”
My brother-in-law chuckles and kisses the top of her head. “I’ll get Izzy cleaned up for dinner while you guys work this out.”
“I’m clean, Dad. I wasn’t rolling around in the barn or anything.” She huffs out a breath, but runs off wash her hands in the bathroom.
Motioning toward his wife, he gives me a crooked grin. “Don’t be too hard on her.”
I roll my eyes, and he laughs.
