“Why?” he asks, eyes narrowing on Lyra’s hands as they grab two of the sauce dishes.
“Trust me,” I suggest.
He does not heed my warning.
He grunts, then winces when Lyra dumps a little bit of each sauce into an empty sauce dish by her plate, quickly adding the other two in her dipping abomination.
“Why would she do that?” Roman wheezes.
I pat his back. “I tried to tell you.”
“You did not putnearlyenough urgency in your warning.” He rubs his chest. “That was…”
“I know.” I nod. “You’ve no one to blame but yourself, though.”
“Her. I could blame her.”
I tut, shaking my head. “Blame Lyra? My perfect, adorable, sweet, kind, beautiful all-things-lovely cousin, Lyra? I think not.”
“I think I’m having a heart attack. Or an aneurysm."
“Can you have that after dinner instead?” Jove asks. “This looks good, and if we have to go to the ER, it’ll be cold before we can eat it.”
Roman straightens, nodding sagely, and I snort. Less than a day and Jove’s already got his number. What a man.
We eat, then have Jove show Roman Mars’ carrot garden so that Lyra and I can do the minimal amount of dishes before Roman tries to intervene. He cleans as he cooks, so we only have the stuff on the table to deal with. We’re putting dishes awaywhile K-pop music blasts from a speaker in the windowsill when the men return. I dance around Jove, banging a couple of mostly dry spoons together before flicking the final few drops of water off them at Roman. He scowls as he takes in the scene, redness coasting up his throat and over his cheeks.
“I was going to clean that,” he pouts.
I snicker. I won again.
“Sucks to suck!” I yell over the music, twirling until I reach the silverware drawer. I put the spoons in, then shut it with my hip. “Cleaning is over! It’s time to dance!”
Jove stalks a giggling Lyra around the kitchen, spinning her in a lift when he catches her.
I grin.
“Aren’t they so cute?” I ask Roman, who hasn’t quite let go of his pout. My eyes roll. “Oh, get over it, Salty. You can do the dishes at home!”
He scowls, crossing his arms.
“Remember your character development,” I suggest, laughing. “Character-developed Roman would dance!” Then I grab his hand, tug, and start us whirling.
At first, his movements are stiff as I pull him around the kitchen, dodging Lyra and Jove as my cousin jumps and whirls and her husband gazes adoringly down at her, whirling with her. When the next song starts, with a bumping beat and a K-pop idols’ deep voice singing words none of us understand, Roman’s shoulders start to lose some of their tension and his steps develop a slight bit of, dare I say,pep.
Elodie. Wins. Again.
A few more songs, a few more laughs, a little bit of the big man tossing his wife around, and we’re all out of breath.
“Movie time, I think,” Lyra puffs, falling into the sofa as the final song ends.
The rest of us concur, piling around her to pick a movie.Jove sits to her left, pulling her into him for a cute, cute, cute cuddle. My heart takes off watching them, and I find myself grateful I can feel joy foroneperson in my life without it being overshadowed by jealousy.
I sit to Lyra’s right, and Roman plops down tomyright, throwing his arm over the back of the couch and threading his hand through my hair as Jove finds a movie. I eye Mister Touchy, but ultimately decide to let it go. He’s spent all day in a strange place with strange people after I pretty much abandoned him… twice. If he wants the comfort of his hand in my hair, I’ll let him have it.
Plus, it feels kind of… nice.
Kind of very, very nice.
