Swing (Landry Family #2)

Vivian lets it go and instead pulls three heavy glasses from a mahogany cabinet. “You are spoiled rotten.”

“That’s why I’ve had a job since I was fifteen, right?” Sienna asks, crunching on the celery. “Because I’m so spoiled.”

“A little work never hurt anyone,” Vivian retorts, handing me a glass of dark liquid. “If you want something else, just ask. I got sidetracked here with my mouthy daughter.”

Sienna blows her mom a kiss. Vivian walks across the room, grabs her daughter’s face, and kisses her cheek.

They’re so easy with each other. Mother and daughter, yes, but something more. Something I’ve never really seen before. Maybe this is unconditional love.

“Danielle?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, fidgeting as I come back to the present. “It’s just been a long day.”

“Do you need to lie down?” Sienna asks. “I can take you up to your room. Lincoln always tries to take mine, but since I got here first, y’all are at the end.”

I can’t help but laugh at the smug look on her face. “That’s okay. I think Lincoln wanted to show me around when he gets back. He was pretty excited to bring me here.”

“It’s our favorite place,” Sienna smiles. “Our parents don’t live here, so we didn’t grow up here in that sense. But we’ve celebrated every holiday except Christmas morning, every big occasion, every summer break here.”

“I can see why.”

“What about you?” she asks. “What does your family do for holidays?”

I swallow by a lump in my throat and fidget in my seat. Vivian’s perfectly executed brow lifts ever-so-slightly. “My parents travel. Holidays really aren’t a big deal in my family,” I say as nonchalantly as possible.

“What?” Sienna almost barks. “How are they not a big deal?”

“Sienna,” Vivian breathes, giving her a look to shush her. I’m grateful for it, yet nervous because she senses my unease. That will lead to questions and it’s not something I want to get into.

These people are Americana. They’re as red-white-and-blue as apple pie. They’ll never understand my life. To them, I’ll be the black sheep of my family and I’m sure they’ll think I’m blemished in some way. Isn’t that how it will look? Why else would a set of successful, socially prominent parents have nothing to do with their only child?

“It’s fine,” I lie, smiling gratefully at Vivian. “My parents are just super busy.” Sipping my tea, I gather myself. “So, Sienna, what do you do?”

“I’m a fashion designer.” Her eyes sparkle as she grabs another stem of celery. “I live in Los Angeles, but am considering a move to Paris.”

“You just think you are,” Vivian scoffs, pulling various boxes and cartons from a pantry. “You are not moving overseas, Sienna LeighAnn.”

Sienna rolls her eyes behind her mother’s back, making me laugh. “No, I should move home and live with Camilla. We can wear matching rompers and attend all your social functions like the girls in My Best Friend’s Wedding.”

A giggle escapes my lips before I can stop it. Vivian looks at me and smiles. “She’s a handful.”

“At least I’m not a weirdo,” Sienna says, chomping on the vegetable again. “Like my dear twin sister. Where is she, anyway?”

Vivian releases a long, heavy sigh. “She’s supposed to be here,” she says, looking at the iron clock on the wall. “An hour ago. You need to talk to her, Sienna. See if you can find anything out.”

“What’s going on?” I ask before I stop myself. “I’m sorry. I just way overstepped my bounds.”

“No, honey, it’s fine,” Vivian says, swiping a manicured hand in the air. “My other daughter is usually the first one to all family functions, an ever-present fixture in all our lives.”

“We call her Swink because she’s always in our business,” Sienna points out. “But all of a sudden, she’s gone. I mean, she’s here. She’s around. But she doesn’t call me anymore. She’s not answering Graham’s calls. She’s not—”

“—showing up as usual,” Vivian sighs. “I’m sure she’s fine. She sounds fine. She’s just going through something, that’s all.”

As if she can’t think about it a moment longer, Vivian turns back and works to form a tray of little sandwiches and fruits. And that’s the end of that.



Lincoln

My father greets my older brother quickly before heading back to the house. I stand, still a little perplexed, and walk towards the car. Graham is standing at the hood of the car waiting on me.

“Hey,” I say as I reach him.

“Good to see you.” Graham pulls me into a quick, one-arm hug. “How was your flight?” He tugs on his green tie, loosening it from around his neck.

“How do you wear that shit every day?” I ask, watching him unbutton the top button. “Don’t you feel like a monkey in a suit?”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t you feel like a giant little boy playing ball every day?” he teases.

“A giant little boy a lot of chicks want to fuck.”

“I’ll tell you a secret,” he says, heading to the driver’s side door. “Chicks might like ball players. Women like suits.”

Climbing in the passenger’s side, I laugh. “Whatever you say.”

“Speaking of women, did you bring Danielle?”

Her name sparks a warmth inside me. “Yeah. She’s inside with Mom and Sienna.”

He flashes me a look. “Is that safe?”

The car slides down the driveway towards the house. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Um, Linc. Your normal girlfriends make Sienna want to brawl. Remember the one that wore fishnets to Barrett’s birthday party?”

“She wasn’t a girlfriend,” I scoff. “Don’t give her too much credit.”

“You brought her.”

“Kind of. I kind of brought her,” I say in defense. “Seriously, why do we always bring her up?”

“Because it’s so easy,” he chuckles. “Just like I’m guessing she was.”

“Dude, she used to take my—”

“No. Just no,” Graham laughs as the car comes to a stop in front of the house.

“Pussy,” I wink.

We exit the car and I breathe in a lungful of clean, Savannah air. It smells different this time. Tastes different. Feels different.

Cleaner, maybe? Crisper? I can’t figure out what it is, exactly, but something seems like a page has turned.

“What?” Graham asks, furrowing his brow as we climb the steps to the house.

“What what?”

“You’re thinking something.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you only have one face you make when you are thinking about something. And because you rarely think, it’s a look all its own.”