Clayton: I feel like Will and Grant should be standing up for their girls’ tits.
Grant: As far as you’re concerned my wife doesn’t have tits fuck off
Clayton: Will?
Danny: Willie?
Clayton: William?
Danny: Wilson?
Clayton: Wilber?
Danny: Willum?
Clayton: Willard?
Danny: Willston?
Joey: That is not a name…
Why was he related to such idiots?
“Will?” Shit. Luke was still on the phone.
“Do you need something, or do you just enjoy making me miserable?”
“Still wishing you were a lonely child?” Luke teased. The joke had gotten old about twenty years ago, but his siblings all teased him endlessly over a childhood slip.
“I’d kill to be a lonely child,” Will snapped. Before he could lose it on his brother, he caught sight of Aly, eyes wide and nervous, in the doorway. The door swung back toward her, and she stopped it quickly with a jerk so it didn’t smack her straight on.
Without hearing anything else Luke said, he pulled the phone away from his ear and hit End, then shoved the device into his pocket.
Slowly, she stepped farther into the room. She still wore her black leggings and work boots, but she’d pulled a hoodie on over her top. Her face was tinted crimson, although whether it was because she’d been caught eavesdropping or because she was embarrassed that she’d almost been smacked in the face with the door, he wasn’t sure.
“Andy mentioned you were unhappy with the show tonight…” She fiddled with the end of one of her big, bouncing curls.
“Unhappy with my family would be more accurate.” Will held an open palm out to one of the seats at his table before he started the microwave to heat up the plate of food he’d saved for her. He ran his hand through his hair and studied the tile under his feet. “It’s a running joke in my family to say I want to be a lonely child.” He shook his head and peered up at her. “When I was five or six, I told my mother I wanted to be alonelychild. I didn’t realize the expression wasonlychild…”
She coughed out a laugh but quickly bit her lower lip to stifle it.
And despite his bad mood, he smiled. As much as he was trying to keep himself away from Aly, she was crawling under his skin. “It was cute at first, but now they love to throw it out anytime I’m frustrated with them. Which is almost always.” Will opened the microwave door and pulled out the plate. Once he’d set it in front of her, his hand brushed against her bare arm, eliciting a shiver from her. He swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could live with her and not kiss her again. All week, this tension between them had grown.
He grabbed his beer and sat beside her, as had become the routine when she worked late.
“Eat.”
For a reason that was beyond Will, she chuckled as she picked up her fork. The door flew open again, and Andy jogged to the fridge.
“Grab your sister a water,” Will called before he had time to slam the door of the side-by-side.
“She can walk.” Andy sighed, but he grabbed the water, along with a Gatorade. He sniffed the air on his way to the table. “Is there more?”
“You’re a bottomless pit.” Will laughed. “You already had three pieces.”
“But your chicken marsala is almost as good as your lasagna,” Andy whined and reached out to grab Aly’s plate.
But she was quicker. She smacked at him with her free hand. “I haven’t eaten all day. Hands off my chicken,” she warned, holding her fork out at him, defending her plate.