“You like her,” she said in a tone that was downright giddy. “Like, like her.”
Jesus. Were we back in middle school or something? “We’re not doing this,” I ordered, turning away from her and wiggling my mouse around to wake my computer screen back up. “We aren’t girlfriends. You can go now.”
“Awww,” she cooed, clapping her hands before clasping them together in front of her chest. “Come on. You know you want to sit with me and dissect every single second of your first encounter with her. We can even braid each other’s hair and paint our nails as we pick every word apart and create wild, outlandish meanings behind them.”
“All right, I’m done. Get the fuck out of my office.”
Fortunately and blessedly, she cut me some slack, popped out of the chair, and skip-walked to the door, hopping right over the filing she’d brushed to the floor earlier.
Yep, that headache behind my eyes was definitely an aneurism.
Seven
Stella
“Auntie Stell! Airplane me again!”
“Okay, but only one more time.” Lacing my fingers through my niece’s, I held on as I rocked backward onto the floor, my feet pressed against Sasha’s little belly. She squealed in delight as I straightened my knees, lifting her higher into the air. Her giggles morphed into airplane sounds as she kicked her stumpy little legs like crazy, more like she was trying to swim than fly.
“All right, pork chop,” Spence said as he grabbed his daughter around her ribs and lifted her off my feet. “You’ve made Auntie Stella airplane you a million and thirty times already. Time to give her a break.”
I didn’t mind, honestly. I loved every single second I got to spend with my favorite human being on the planet, but I was appreciative for the break. If I was being honest, the muscles in my legs were starting to tremble with strain.
Spence held her up with two hands on her belly dipping her up and down like a plane as he carried her out of the room. Hefting myself off my parents’ living room floor, I flopped back into my dad’s favorite recliner and grabbed the glass of wine I’d abandoned earlier when my niece decided she wanted all of my attention, taking a much-needed sip.
“You’re so good with her,” my sister-in-law, Kira, said, a soft, genuine smile on her face. Spence’s wife was absolutely perfect. It didn’t feel like she’d married into my family, but had been born into it, we were all so close. She knew all about us and what we did, and instead of pulling a runner like my ex had, she’d accepted Spence for who he was, despite the things she might not agree with.
She wasn’t exactly thrilled with our proclivities, and there was no way in hell she’d be a part of a single con, but she loved my curmudgeon of a big brother, warts and all. She loved all of us. She never made us feel bad about what we did or harp on and on about how wrong it was. In return, we made sure never to talk about grifting in front of her. It was the only way we knew to show her the same respect she showed us.
“She’s easy to be good with,” I assured her. “She’s an amazing kid. That’s all you, because everyone knows Spence is a growly jerk most of the time.”
“I heard that,” my brother called out from the kitchen where the rest of our family was congregating around the island, helping my mom put the finishing touches on dinner. Weekly dinners at my parents’ house were a Ryan tradition, but I’d been banned from the kitchen since I was a teenager when it became clear it wasn’t lack of teaching or interest that made me such a stupendously terrible cook. For how talented I was at picking pockets, I was equally as bad when it came to trying to prepare food. I hadn’t been allowed within ten yards of an oven after that one teensy kitchen fire accident. But in my defense, no one ever told me it was a no-no to put water on a grease fire. At least not that I remembered.
“I know, that’s why I said it so loud,” I called back, making Kira snicker.
“Well, thanks. It’s nice to hear we’re not total failures as parents.”
“Not a chance. You’re fabulous.”
The apples of her cheeks pinked at the compliment. “So are you. So when are you going to bite the bullet and have a kiddo of your own, huh?”
I choked on the sip of wine I’d just taken. “Excuse me?” I wheezed once I was finally able to breathe again.
“You’re so good with Sasha. I was just curious when you thought you might start a family of your own.”
There were many reasons why being the baby of the family sucked, first and foremost the way my family took overprotectiveness to an irrational level. If they could have gotten away with it, I didn’t doubt they would have tried to pad me with bubble wrap to keep me safe. In fact, there was that one time when we were all little that Spencer tried to do exactly that. The first time I ever rode the school bus by myself, my big brother tried his hardest to convince my mom it was necessary. “What if the bus driver sucks, Mom? If there’s a crash, the bubble paper will protect her.”
Thank God my mother didn’t let him guilt her, because I never would have lived that down.
But the only thing worse that being the baby was being the single baby. Serenity dated enough that no one really worried about her, and Spence was happily married. Meanwhile, I’d barely dated growing up, my lack of seduction skills and clumsiness weren’t exactly a turn-on to the opposite sex. Then, when I finally met someone, I ended up with my heart smashed to bits.
That combination had created a strange contradiction within my family. Either they were pushing me to get back out there again, or they were threatening death to any man who looked in my direction they thought wasn’t good enough for me, meaning pretty much every member of the opposite sex. Their yo-yoing reactions made me dizzy.
“Um, I’m pretty sure you have to be having sex in order to have a baby, and it might sound old school, but I think that means you should probably be in a relationship for any of that to happen.”
“Then put yourself out there again. You’re gorgeous and cool and smart and sassy. Any man would be lucky to have you.”
I appreciated her kind words. But . . . “No thank you,” I replied firmly. “I have no interest in re-entering the dating pool. I’m pretty sure there’s pee in it.”
It was Kira’s turn to choke on her drink, then crack up once she was able to breathe again. “Oh, man. That’s colorful.”
“You’re welcome,” I said smugly.
“You know, it’s not all”—she swallowed, trying to find the right words—“all full of pee. That’s mainly just the shallow end, and you don’t want a man from the shallow end anyway.”
I crinkled my nose. “I think this metaphor might be getting away from us.”
Kira cringed and nodded her head. “Yeah, you’re right. I feel kind of like a predator talking like that. How about I be direct instead of all creepy?”
I let out a laugh. “Go for it.”
She took a breath, like she was preparing herself to drop a bomb on something. “I know things with Jason didn’t work out—” I dropped my head back on a dramatic groan before sucking back the last of my wine. But she pushed forward. “But that guy was an über douche.”