“Look at me.”
I’m looking.
“I’m fine.” Ara gives me this look that has me feeling some kind of way. “I’m seriously fine. And if you don’t stop doting on me, I’m never fucking you again. Me and the treasure between my thighs will walk right out that door, never to be—”
I shut her up by stuffing my thumb in her mouth. She doesn’t bite it. She licks and sucks it. “Did you just threaten me, Kitty?” I pop my thumb out from between her lips.
“Maybe.” She bats her lashes at me.
“One.”
She flips me the bird and leans back in her chair. “Two.” She flips me the bird with her other finger. “Ohhh three.”
“Marry me after we eat.” I’m only half -joking.
“Okay. But first, I want to meet your sister.”
I swear she’s only half joking, too. I grab my cell out of my pocket and punch in Erin’s number. “Hey, you busy later?”
Ara’s eyes grow huge. “It’s in the middle of the night!” she whisper-yells at me.
Doesn’t matter. Erin is like me—a night owl. “Awesome. I’m swinging by with Ara for dinner. Yeah, six works.”
Ara cups her mouth.
I hang up. “Erin says she’s making tacos. Dinner’s served at six.”
My girl’s cheeks burn red. “You’re really gonna let me meet your sister?”
Fuck yeah, I am. Why wouldn’t I? “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Ara. Of course, you’re meeting her. And my nephew, Beetle.”
“But… this soon?” She looks terrified. “We’re moving fast.”
“Are we though?” I tip my head and squint at her. “Really, Ara?”
She blows out a big exhale. “I guess not.” My Kitty starts finger-combing her hair. “What if she doesn’t like me?”
“What’s not to like?”
“I need to shower and change.”
“Shower’s there, and my clothes are in the spare bedroom closet.”
“Glitch!”
“What?”
We stare at each other, holding out for the other to bend and see reason. It won’t be me. I’m shamelessly unreasonable when it comes to Ara.
“Fine, I’ll take you home so you can change. But I’m totally down for you wearing my clothes. In fact, I’d go a little feral to see you in my sweatpants and t-shirt.” I stalk off to grab our food and bring it to the table.
We open all the containers and joke around before she starts asking questions. “So, Erin…”
“Here’s our life in a nutshell: Our parents died when I was fifteen. Erin was eighteen. She got legal custody of me and raised me on her own. By the time I graduated high school, she’d gotten pregnant by a jackass who didn’t stick around, and she raised Beetle on her own too. His name’s really Brendan, but when he was a baby, he’d lay on his back and kick his arms and feet out, which made him look like a beetle on his back. The nickname stuck.”
“You guys have a thing with nicknames, huh?”
“My sister definitely does. I just go along with it.” I bite into a piece of orange chicken. “Anyway, Beetle’s father has nothing to do with him, so I fill that role as much as I can.” She needs to know that because Beetle is a huge part of my daily life. These past couple of days were an exception because Erin lost her job and was able to get him from school.
“How did your parents die?”
My heart sinks. “Car accident on a date night.”
“Oh my God, Glitch.”
“It was fast. I don’t think they felt anything.” I really don’t talk about their deaths. Ara’s tears well up and I change the subject. “So, what about you? You have any siblings?”
“Not really.”
That’s an odd answer.
“My parents spit when I was ten. My dad remarried and started a new family. He doesn’t have anything to do with me anymore.”
I want to kill him. How can a father walk away from a daughter like Ara? Fuckhead.
“I was raised by my mom. She was an artist like me. Taught high school art, actually. She’s who encouraged me to follow my passion instead of getting a degree in some career we both knew I’d hate and settle for anyway.”
“Degrees can be overrated.”
“I suppose.” She plucks at her noodles. “She actually pulled some strings to get me into an art show when I was still in high school. I sold my entire collection that night, plus learned how to network. I was able to pull in two more commissions afterwards.”