“Jesus Christ,” my brother mumbled, then called, “Ivy, we’re making a tent in Bastian’s room while Morina gets ready and talks to Uncle Bastian.”
The little girl shot off down the hall, and Cade ran after with a roar.
Just as he did, Morina turned into her bedroom even though she’d heard Cade announce that we would be talking.
I sighed and made my way to her door. With it being cracked and my being right behind her, I didn’t think to knock.
When I cleared my throat, she spun away from her closet. “Do you think you could knock next time?”
“Knock?”
“Yes. This is my room.” Her tone held anger and accusation.
It immediately put me on a defense I didn’t need. “This is our room. Just like this whole place is our place.”
“Wouldn’t know it from who is in it all the time.”
“Are you mad I haven’t been here?”
“Nope.” She said the word so loud it ping ponged off the walls.
“I work and I told you I wouldn’t be here much. I’m giving you space.” I crossed my arms.
“Great. I’m happy with it.” She didn’t sound happy at all.
“I come home after three days and you immediately are galivanting off to the humane society. So, that just proves the point that we don’t want to be around each other.”
“Yup, that proves the point.”
“Are you going to say anything you mean right now?”
“No!” She stomped her foot. She breathed fast, holding her fists tight at her sides. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
“Care to share why?”
“Because you’re annoying me!” She winced when the words flew out of her. “I don’t… I’m not comfortable here. And I have my crystals and oils, and I surf to stay comfortable. I live in comfort, Bastian. I don’t do luxury or chefs or white countertops well. I have to figure out the will because I can’t buy food processors for my foodtruck to make money so I can buy more ingredients to sell and make more money. And I can’t do any of that because I’m out of my depth.”
“Out of your depth?” I repeated, trying to catch up with all the words she’d just thrown at me faster than a peregrine falcon diving for food.
“And this stupid packet of a million words and pages is like a different language. And it's boring, Bastian. Like really boring. And I know we don’t know each other except for some not boring sex on a plane, but I can’t do boring. I’m not… I don’t think I’m–”
“Stop.” Her eyes darted up to mine and she suddenly looked her age. At least ten years younger than me with big sapphire eyes that were scared and vulnerable. I always assumed she didn’t care or it was no big deal for her because she acted nonchalant and told me exactly how she wanted things. But…
I took a deep breath. “Jesus, you talk fast, huh?”
“I normally don’t.”
I squinted at her. “When’s the last time you were really nervous about something?”
“What type of question is that?” She wrung her hands like she had in the living room.
“Never mind.” I had a feeling we were both going to get to know ourselves a lot better in the next few months. “Let’s not do boring right now, huh? Let’s go see the dogs and then watch the movie and act like children at a theme park. Then, we’ll do boring.”
She peered over at the paperwork lying on the bed. “It’sreallyboring, Bastian,” she whispered.
For some reason, I cracked up with her omission and the lines on her forehead disappeared as she smiled big.
Brilliant. Beautiful.