“So, I’m curious.” Remington nearly jumps on top of the table, but the one by his side, Landon’s fucking clone, grabs him and pulls him back down. “How did you un-prude Ces, Jeremy?”
“That’s not even a word,” she tells him, her voice heated.
“Oh, I’m sorry, vocabulary police. The question remains, how did you stop being a prude?”
“Stop calling her a prude, Remi!” Ava throws a napkin at him, appearing angry on Cecily’s behalf.
“She was never a prude,” I say, and Cecily’s hand quivers in mine, her body goes softer, and her lips slightly part whether it’s in awe or admiration, I don’t know.
“You must be talking about a different Cecily, because this one,” Remington points a thumb at her, “is a certified prude who goes all red at the mention of sex. Look! Ladies and gentlemen, the evidence is right here.”
Sure enough, Cecily’s ears and cheeks are changing color. I stroke her hand in mine, and she mutters, “I’m going to kill you, Remi.”
“Me, too.” Ava throws something else at him. An olive.
“You can try, but succeeding will be impossible.” He grabs Creighton by the shoulder. “Protect me from these crazy cougars, spawn!”
His cousin merely removes Remi’s hand to focus back on my sister. He’s been effectively pretending, or actually thinking, that she’s the only person at the table, despite Annika’s subtle attempts to stay engaged in the conversation.
“What the fuck? What the actual fuck?” Remington stares incredulously at Creighton. “Did you just brush me off, spawn? I can’t believe this. I spend all my time raising you, but now that you have Anni, you completely dumped me?”
“Cut it out,” Brandon tells him with a somber expression.
Ava and Cecily then gang up on Remington. Creighton is still ignoring him. Glyndon tries to break up the fight.
Killian and I lean back in our chairs to watch the freak show while I simultaneously plan to get her the hell out of here sooner rather than later.
“What a circus,” I mutter under my breath.
“Welcome to whatever shit the Brits like to do,” Kill says with a grin. “It’s entertaining.”
For him because he likes to see chaos unfold. I prefer to control it, choke it off and not allow it to breathe unless absolutely necessary.
My phone vibrates, and I pull it out as Kill simultaneously retrieves his.
It’s a text in the group chat.
Nikolai:Where the fuck is everyone? The house is empty.
Gareth:We actually have lives aside from entertaining you, Niko.
Nikolai:Oh, fuck off, you’re probably studying like a nerd.
Gareth:As I said. Life.
Killian snaps a picture of the scene, or more accurately, of Brandon, who’s ignoring the chaos unfolding around him, elbow on the table and his chin leaning on his hand. He’s checking his phone with a bored expression plastered all over his face.
A Cheshire cat grin lifts Killian’s lips as he sends the picture to the group chat.
Only a second pass before the reply comes.
Nikolai:Where the fuck are you, Satan’s heir?
Killian:Expanding my options?
Nikolai:Fuck you right the fuck off. Don’t get on my nerves or I’ll cut your dick off while you sleep.
Killian:I also told you not to get on my nerves, but you went ahead and had that drink with Glyndon.