None of them looked happy now. Especially not Francesca.
Lulabelle shifted enough to face her father. “You know what, I don’t even want to know what she’s talking about. It was a long flight, I’ll be happy just to get settled in.”
He held out a wide arm, corralling her from the kitchen.
The rest of us were left to the silence. Mama Badd hovered by the sink, her lips trembling, moving from an uncertain smile to a much more solid frown. The appearance of Lulabelle had thrown their world for a loop.
Hawthorne ran his hands down the front of his shirt. “Come on, Mom.” Heading to her, he scooped up her elbow. I wasn’t used to seeing him acting so . . . kind. “Let’s go look over some ideas. Lula might not want a celebration, but fuck her, we can still throw something together anyway. Dad isn’t stopping me from going anywhere, I’ll buy whatever you want.”
Patting his arm, she let him lead her from the kitchen. “Buying me things? You always know how to cheer me up.”
Costello had been as still as a suit of armor in a museum. Abruptly he pushed off the wall, his legs cutting a path from the room.
And then there were three.
Peering from Kain to Fran, I asked flatly, “What am I missing?”
“It’s personal,” Francesca said. Grabbing the pile of wet napkins from the juice spill, she slammed them into the trash. “Family stuff.”
“Family stuff,” I repeated. “All right.”
Resting his forehead on his fist, Kain eyed his sister. “It doesn’t have to be a big secret, Fran. What happened between Costello and Lula—”
“It didn’t just happen to them,” she said sharply.
Kain narrowed his eyes. “Funny, you always act like it’s you everything happened to.”
“Oh!” She scowled, flailing her hands like she was going to slap him. He gripped her wrists, stopping her before she could get far. Scooting my chair away, I stood quickly. I wasn’t going to get a black eye from some crazy sibling fight.
Kain didn’t stand, he remained where he was with her stuck firmly in front of him. “Frannie, listen. You’ve been taking this grudge too far.”
Seething, she said, “Screw you, Kain. I’ll be pissed as long as I want.”
“And how long is that?”
“For as long as he’s around!”
“Fran, he didn’t make her leave!”
“He did!” That was her breaking point; she wrenched away, and I knew Kain let her go, because I’d felt his grip before. He could have held her there for hours.
Without another word, Francesca stomped from the kitchen. I heard her feet clomping down the hall, then up the stairs . . . and then nothing.
Ever so slowly, I looked back at Kain. He was sitting there with his hands on the table, shoulders knotted like he was still busy holding his sister in front of him.
I clapped my hands sharply; he jumped. “Kain, it’s all right, you don’t need to tell me what’s going on. I get it.”
He snagged my arm, pulling me into his lap. I started to argue, but his sudden, hungry embrace shut me up. Kain circled me fully, his warmth . . . his strain . . . full of so much more than I could understand.
Whatever had happened to this family, it had left a wound that was still raw.
The day vanished with everyone passing like ships in the night.
Hawthorne disappeared—presumably to shop for his mother.
I had no clue where Costello was.
Maverick dragged Kain off into the den to talk in heated secrecy.
And Fran . . . well, I caught her whispering with Lulabelle in the room I’d slept in accidentally that one night. The door was shut, but through the wood, their voices were buzzing. I caught no words, I only grasped that one of them was upset.
I was sure I heard crying.
When the sky finally turned purple and Hawthorne returned with bags, I decided I should get ready for whatever “celebration” they were going to concoct. Francesca wasn’t in her room, so I helped myself to one of the outfits she’d set aside for me once it became clear I’d be here for a while.
It was a simple thing—well, simple for Fran. Just a long, white dress, the edges lacy and the top tying around my neck. Studying myself in the mirror, I gave a spin, watching how the cloth rippled.
It almost looks like a wedding dress. Not one I’d ever choose, no, but I could see someone wearing something similar. My wedding dress would have lots of ribbons, probably a mermaid design, and . . . Gripping the hem, I stopped short.
Why the fuck am I thinking about that?
Yeah, I’d fantasized about a wedding with Kain way back when, but that had been just silly fun. Nothing serious.
Get a grip. Standing tall, I breathed in—then out. Date the guy once this mess is done, then maybe think about marriage, jeez.
I was still chuckling to myself about my insanity when I entered the hall. Clicking Fran’s door shut, I turned . . . and then I saw her.
Lulabelle.
What is she doing in Kain’s room? She hadn’t noticed me. Closing his door, she began to head my way. The shoes in her hands were, without a doubt, the ones I’d worn at the wedding. I’d know those hellish glitter monsters anywhere.
“Oh,” she said loudly, as if I’d caught her doing something wrong. “I almost didn’t see you there. Sammy, right?”
“Yeah, that’s me.” My attention dropped to the shoes, then back to her face.
Lulabelle followed my eyes. Smiling, she lifted the heels and gave them a little twirl. “Ugly, aren’t they? Either Kain’s been moonlighting as a stripper with bad taste, or I’m guessing these belong to my dear little sister.”
My fingers twitched at my sides; why did I want to grab those shoes so badly? I’d hated the things. I’d been relieved to chuck them at Kain to get rid of them.
That was almost a month ago, I thought with budding wonder. He kept them this whole time? If I was still angry with the guy, learning that he’d kept my shoes in secret would have been terror inducing.
Instead . . .
I found it stupidly sweet.
“Actually,” I said, reaching out. “Those belong to me.”
Lulabelle scanned me from top to bottom, not hiding her confusion. I was sure she was thinking that I did not look like the sort who wore shoes like these. And she was right, I wasn’t. They were the worst things I’d ever had to stumble around in.
I wanted them more than anything.
With some uncertainty, she handed them over to me. I squeezed them tight, hugging them to my chest. “Thanks,” I said softly.
“No problem.” Her mouth opened, as if she had more to say. In the end, Lula just pushed her long hair behind her ears and looked at Kain’s door. I was relieved when she didn’t ask why my shoes had been inside. I didn’t have an answer, anyway.
How much did she know about what was going on?
She rubbed her ankle with her opposite foot. “Okay. Uh, good talk.”
On impulse, I stepped toward her. “Wait. Why were you in his room?”