Sierra’s eyes are wide, and her mouth is hanging open when I turn back around. She knows that Mama has always baked the cakes for our family. A princess cake for my fifth birthday, a rainbow one for my eighth birthday, and a four-layer cake for my sweet sixteen.
But Annie said she wanted to try this new bakery that opened up, so it’s fine. Really.
“I have to meet these women who plucked your brothers off Manhattan’s most eligible bachelor lists.”
Of course Sierra was one of my many friends who had crushes on my brothers. Something I’ve lived with my entire life but still manages to gross me out.
“I’m sure they’ll all visit at some point.”
Sierra has relinquished her hold on the food and placed the containers back on the table, so Dylan grabs a fork and stabs a meatball, shoving it into his mouth. A loud moan falls from his lips. “Mama Mancini is welcome anytime.” He sinks down into a chair at the table. “Seth, you gotta have some,” he calls over to Seth, who is sitting on the couch, then stabs another and pushes the container away.
Seth stands, peeling his eyes away from Blue Bloods. I reach into the cabinet and hand him a fork before he sits down beside Dylan.
“Just one more.” Dylan stabs one right after Seth and the two of them moan like they’re receiving the best blow jobs of their life.
“Shit, Mancini. You’ve been holding out. Yesterday you were making the instant mac and cheese. And not even the boxed kind, the individual one.” Seth’s blue eyes twinkle in delight as he opens up another container. “Lasagna.” His fork goes in right away and Dylan’s follows.
“Just because my mama can cook doesn’t mean I can,” I say.
Sierra and I exchange a smile. She knows how culinary challenged I am.
“I thought it was every Italian daughter’s quest to learn how to cook in order to land a husband?” Seth stares at me like he’s serious. “Isn’t that the reason you’re born? To breed?”
Sierra slaps him on the back of the head and I raise my hand for a high five.
“It was a joke, people.”
Dylan shakes his head at him like he’s an idiot.
“Knox. Rian. You hungry?” I ask.
“Shh… Donnie Wahlberg’s on.” Rian holds her hand up in the air at me, eyes not leaving the screen. She’s wearing a pair of leggings and a plain T-shirt, her blonde hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. “Can you believe he’s like fifty? Do you think you’ll look that good at fifty?” she asks Knox.
If I had to guess, I’d say he will. The man takes care of himself. Not that Dylan and Seth don’t. But I haven’t seen Knox eat one unhealthy thing since I met him. Which I should mention was only last week. But Sierra told me he’s a police officer so maybe he does it to keep fit for his job.
“Um… yeah.” Knox responds as if it’s obvious.
Seth chuckles over his mouth full of lasagna.
“If you haven’t figured it out by now, Knox is the one with the ego here,” Sierra says in a good natured way.
“So is this a Sunday ritual?” I sit down at the table and put my feet on the empty chair next to me, stretching out. “You all watch Blue Bloods like middle-aged empty nesters?”
Dylan mocks offense, but I’m telling you, if anyone asked the guy who owns the Ink Envy Tattoo Shop across the street, whose arms are covered in tattoos, what he does for fun, the last thing they’d think he’d say is watch Blue Bloods.
“It’s a good show. Don’t knock it,” he says.
Rian shushes everyone and Seth shakes his head. “You do know he’s bald now.”
“He’s still sexy. Don’t be jealous.” She waves him off.
“Do you think she even pays attention to the plot?” Sierra asks, standing beside the table.
“No. She’s waiting for him to get naked or some shit.” Seth’s fork wavers between the meatballs and lasagna.
Dylan forks the cake with gusto. “I don’t get the appeal.”
“His ego’s probably so inflated from all these young women loving him,” Seth whispers because Rian has quieted the room again.
“No one has an ego quite like Sigmund did.” Sierra digs into a piece of the cake.
The mood at the table shifts and I catch Seth eye Dylan and Dylan eye Seth.
“Who’s Sigmund?” I ask.
Seth glances at Sierra with wide eyes. “Her ex.”
Sierra forks a bigger piece of cake but doesn’t say anything.
“I’m sorry. Was it recent?” I put my hand on her arm and her face softens.
“We broke up six months or so ago. Dated for a little over a year.”
I mentally catalog this information in the back of my brain so I can ask her more about it when we’re not surrounded by other people.
“He’s a cool guy,” Dylan says, still deciding what he’s going to eat. He doesn’t notice Seth and Sierra’s eyes on him. When he glances up and shrugs. “Come on, he is. You two just weren’t right together.”
“And why is that?” Sierra asks, her fork clattering onto the table before she crosses her arms over her chest.
“This is Blanca’s first Sunday with us. She brought this great food to share with us. Do we really have to do this?” Seth asks, widening his arms around the table like he’s ready to hold hands and sing Kumbaya. I’m guessing he’s not a fan of confrontation.
“You went from a date to datttinngg,” Dylan stretches out the word. “I mean, who does that?” He looks at me and I hold my hands up, not about to get in the middle of this.
“People who like each other do. Normal people, Dylan.” Sierra’s gaze ventures over to Rian and back to him. I think I’m the only one who notices.
Seth looks like he wants to crawl under the table and tell Mom and Dad to stop fighting while Dylan lays his fork down calmly and crosses his arms, causing the muscles in his arms to bulge out from under his tattoos.
“Dylan introduced them,” Seth whispers over the table to me.
I nod.
“You always took his side on everything. This is why…” Sierra’s face matches her vibrant red hair now.
“Why what?”
“Why we didn’t work out. Maybe if one of you would’ve told him that the way he was acting was wrong—”
“SHHH!!!” Rian says and instead of breaking the tension, it does the opposite. Both Sierra and Dylan lean over the table in each other’s direction.
“I’m not gonna get into this,” Dylan says.
“Thank you.” Seth picks up his fork, his posture relaxing a bit.
“You’re just blaming me because I’m the woman. You’re such a womanizer and commitment-phobe you don’t know what a real relationship is supposed to look like.”
Seth places his fork down. “I guess they’re not finished.”
“Me?” Dylan points to himself, eyebrows raised.
His outer appearance says he would be. I mean, he screams bad boy from any angle you look at him. The black jeans, the white T-shirt, the tattoos. Even the natural edge he gives off.
“We all know Sigmund’s name has been banned from the apartment, so why are we even discussing this?” Seth says, but they both ignore him.