The minute she sees him, her whole body lifts, and my brother—he wears a smile that’s rare in anyone else’s presence but hers. I’ve never really seen love until I saw them together, truly.
They kiss, and I go to help Rose just as Connor shuts his car door.
Lo has to say something. “This is the progress you made?” he asks Rose. “I thought you were supposed to be Wonder Woman.”
She huffs, her cheeks reddening with anger. “Not now, Loren.”
“How many geniuses does it take to change a tire?” Lo taunts with a smile. Lily punches him in the shoulder, and he mock winces. He rubs his arm. “That hurt, love.”
“Be nice.”
He kisses her temple. “I’m just happy you’re okay.”
This causes her to smile again. It’s cute. All of it. But it’s also annoying the hell out of me because I think of Daisy. Normally she’d be here too. Normally she’d be standing over my shoulder, peering at the car and helping me out.
Instead, I know I’m going to have to jack the Escalade by my fucking self and put in the spare. The couples are paired off, and I’m left alone this time.
Maybe a year ago, I would have been used to being the fifth wheel.
Not anymore.
Now it’s frustrating.
I don’t take Rose away from inspecting the underbelly of the car from afar. I let Connor do that.
He towers over her, six-foot-four, his hands in his pockets. “If you’re trying to prove a point that you’re better than me, you do realize that I wouldn’t have tried to change the tire myself,” he tells her. “I would have been smart enough to call a tow truck.”
She shoots him a withering glare. “Don’t make this about you, Richard.”
“You made it about me the moment you didn’t want me here.” He grabs her wrist and pulls her to her feet with strong force.
She straightens out her dress, fire still in her eyes. I bend down and start working on replacing the flat, but they’re close enough that I hear their whole conversation.
“What are you scared of?” Connor asks her with a frown.
“Je n’ai pas peur,” Rose replies in fluent French. I translate easily: I’m not scared.
I act like I can’t understand them. They think I’m just as clueless about the foreign language as Lily and Lo, but I’ve been fluent since I was a little kid. I just don’t feel like explaining why I know French to anyone. It’s easier to ignore it.
“Alors, dites-moi ce qui ne va pas,” he says. Then tell me what’s wrong.
Rose jerks her hand away from him and raises her chin. “I wanted to do it myself.”
“It’s more than that,” he says. “You and I both know this isn’t about a tire. You’ve been shutting me out for weeks.”
“If you’re so smart, shouldn’t you be able to figure out why?” She crosses her arms in challenge.
His eyes narrow. “Ne jouez pas ce jeu avec moi, chérie. Vous perdrez.” Don’t play this game with me, darling. You will lose.
I glance over my shoulder, and Rose looks a little nervous, inhaling a sharp breath. She is scared. But like Connor, I just have no fucking clue what it’s about.
“Hey,” I call to Rose. She looks at me and the tire like I’m not moving fast enough. I restrain the urge to flip her off. “Where were you and Lily going anyway?”
“Shopping,” Rose says, way too fast.
I know a fucking lie when I hear it. “Glad I fucking asked.” I shake my head and grab the spare tire.
Connor studies Rose’s features, realizing she’s not being honest either.
Rose says, “You knew what you were getting into when you married me.”
“A lifetime of challenges.” His lips rise. “Il n'y a rien de mieux.” There is nothing better.
She almost softens at his words. He strokes her glossy hair and then kisses her forehead. Before I attach the spare, I spot Lo and Lily by my Infinity.
He has her pinned against the car. They aren’t kissing, but he whispers in her ear with a smile that dimples his sharp cheeks. She’s a giant fucking red tomato, so whatever he’s telling her—it’s dirty. I’ve never seen sex embarrass someone as much as it does Lily—and I know it’s because she’s an addict, more ashamed. But she’s clearly turned on by my brother, giving him big bedroom eyes.
I shake my head.
I feel like the only normal one.
But that’s a load of crap. None of us are really normal. We’re all just strange pieces in the world. And the half that usually connects with me is thousands of miles away, in Paris.