“Like yin and yang. We balance one another.” I trailed my finger down the length of Bea’s, rubbing the smooth burgundy polish on her nail. “She’s five years older, and she’s always looked out for me. When I was seven, while I was out riding my bike, a kid in our neighborhood stole it from me. Tia hunted him down, broke his nose, and brought it back to me.”
Bea’s brows popped. “I love her already. Tell me she didn’t get in trouble for avenging you.”
“A slap on the wrist.” I shifted in my seat. “He broke my elbow when he knocked me off the bike, so Tia's retaliation was pretty understandable, even to the kid’s parents.”
“Hell yes.I’dlike to punch him in the nose.”
Her reaction was a shot to the gut. I liked that she hated the kid who’d made my life hell for a few of my formative years as much as Tia did. My sister and Bea would get along famously, as my father would have said.
“Tia teaches yoga. Very zen now—no more getting in fights.”
Bea smirked. “I bet she would if someone was mistreating her little brother.”
My mouth quirked. “I’m capable of fighting my own battles these days, but you’re right. Tia wouldn’t hesitate to throw down for me, our dad, and her kids.”
“You have a good relationship with your father too?” she asked.
“I do. He’s the kind of man who can walk into any room and make friends. I’m not anything like him, but he’s always tried to get me.”
She perched her chin on her fist, thoughtful as she watched me. “You have good people. That’s rare.”
“The best people,” I agreed. “My family has always been patient and supportive, even when I was younger and didn’t speak much. Especially Tia. She understands me most. She’s like that with everyone, though. I think it’s what makes her such an incredible mother.”
“Do you see your nieces and nephew often?”
“Not as often as I would like.” I smiled. “My oldest niece has spent two weeks with me every summer since she was eight. In a coupleyears, her brother will start the same tradition. And when the little one’s old enough, she’ll come too.”
“So you’re a kid guy.” A line formed between her brows. “That surprises me.”
“Not particularly. I don’t spend much time thinking about children other than the ones I’m related to. They’re pretty spectacular, but my sister is a wonderful mother, so it makes sense she produced these small people.”
“You should see how soft you get right here when you’re talking about them.” She lifted a hand and traced lines around my mouth. “Do you want kids of your own?”
“I haven’t given it any thought. Do you?”
She shook her head. “Absolutely not.”
“Vehement,” I observed.
She let out a breathy laugh. “I know what I know. My mom left me to raise my brother and sister when I was still a kid myself. That cured me of wanting to do it again.”
My brow dropped, and a ball knotted in my stomach. “She left you?”
Her gaze searched mine. “Do you really want to know this?”
“I want to know everything.”
Her nose was pointed at the end. Delicate and cute, a ski slope from the side. It was anachronistic in comparison to her other features, which were almost erotic in their femininity. Tilted, almond-shaped eyes. Puffy pink lips. Strong, dark brows. High cheekbones. A soft jawline. All of it creating the most exquisite face I’d ever laid eyes on. But her nose told her story. It twitched and crinkled. Scrunched and flared.
Now, it wrinkled along the narrow ridge, and it was all I could do not to smooth the skin with my thumb.
“My mom had me when she was fifteen. We grew up together, basically. She treated me more like a sister than a daughter, even when I was little. I started cooking breakfast for us when I was five. I had to wakeherup for school. By ten, I was doing laundry, vacuuming—all of it. Then she met Phil.”
Our waiter approached, and I waved him away. I needed to know what Bea was telling me more than anything else.
She went on. “Phil was twenty years older and had grown kids, but he was rich.Sorich. My mom was pregnant within a month or two of their wedding, and when she told me, she said, ‘We’re having a baby, bumblebee!’ As in, she and I. And Iknewwhat would happen—this baby would be mine more than hers.”
“Christ,” I grunted, already angry and bracing for more.
