We all joined in a round of chuckles as Marcus pulled me into his arms.
“Good to see you, kid. We’ve missed you.”
“Did you get my postcards?” I asked them both.
“Oh, yes. One actually arrived on Christmas Eve, the one from Iceland. Did you really see the Northern Lights?” my mother asked.
We sat down on the couch.
I nodded, catching Jude’s grin, as he finished adding our presents to the pile under the massive Christmas tree that was still up just for us. Then, he sat with us on the couch. Jude’s mother entered, greeting everyone, and soon, we were all chatting away about the honeymoon adventures abroad.
“Where’s Roman?” I asked, realizing I hadn’t seen his car out front when we arrived.
“He called and said he was running late, but he should be here in time for desserts and presents,” Jude’s mother answered.
I saw Jude’s face go flat as he tried to restrain his opinion. My hands went to his and squeezed. I knew he was constantly being let down by his brother, but someday, I knew Roman would figure it all out—or at least, I hoped.
“Speaking of desserts, I just need to do a few things in the kitchen to finish up the cake I made,” my mom announced, rising from her spot on the couch.
“And I’ll work on appetizers,” Mrs. Cavanaugh said, following her out.
“Mind if I go help them?” I asked the remaining men.
Jude and Marcus looked longingly at the TV, shaking their heads with enthusiasm, and I tried not to giggle. As I headed off to the kitchen, I heard the TV turn on and then something about a football game and debates on what channel it was on.
Our mothers were in the midst of a pleasant conversation about cooking when I arrived, both of them happily working on their designated tasks.
“Can I help with something?” I asked, looking around as I pushed up my sleeves.
“Sure. Why don’t you come over here and help with the appetizers?” Jude’s mother suggested, ushering me with a hand motion over to where she was preparing a platter of cheeses and fruits.
My stomach suddenly rolled, and my head spun. I grabbed the edge of the counter to steady myself.
My mom’s tender touch was there in seconds. “Lailah, are you all right?” she asked, swiping her hand across my forehead.
Shaking my head to ease her panic, I answered, “I think I’m just coming down with a stomach bug . . . or maybe a mild flu.”
“Nothing is mild when it comes to you. Does Jude know?” she asked, taking my hand to guide me toward the breakfast nook.
I took a seat while she went to a cabinet to grab a glass for water.
“No, I haven’t told him. I know he wouldn’t have let me come tonight, and I didn’t want to miss out on anything.”
She gave me a stern look. “You know we would have understood.”
“But you came so far,” I said as guilt washed over me.
Her soft heels clicked as she walked back to me and took the adjacent seat.
Jude’s mother joined us as well, her hands wrapped firmly around a cup of tea she’d been nursing. “Keeping you healthy is more important than anything else, Lailah,” she said, reaching out with her warm hands.
“And we can’t do that if you don’t help us,” my mother added, scooting the glass of water forward.
I took a small sip, feeling the cool liquid coat my throat, and it eased the tension in my stomach. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll tell Jude and make an appointment with my doctor first thing in the morning. I just didn’t want him to freak out.”
His mother smiled softly. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s his job.”
“Of all the days for my brother to bail on me,” Jude huffed, running around the room, trying to get dressed as quickly as possible.
He’d hoped to have a few hours free this morning, so he could be with me for my doctor’s appointment.
After telling him on the way home about my less than stellar appetite and the illness that was going around school, he had been ready to swing by the ER on the way to our apartment, but I’d managed to talk him out of it, and we’d both settled on a call to the doctor in the morning as long as he could be in attendance for the appointment.
Just the idea of me being sick made him jumpy, nervous, and downright snippy.
He’d called his secretary moments after my appointment was made, knowing his schedule was fairly clear, to let her know he would be in late, only to find out Roman had called in moments earlier to do the same thing.
Thirteen unanswered calls later, Jude was thrashing around the room, throwing a shirt and tie on, swearing under his breath, and most likely, imagining every way possible to inflict bodily harm to his older brother. He’d even considered taking an elevator ride up to his floor but figured Roman wouldn’t answer.