Jared stopped eating. “You’re really that unhappy here?”
“No. Stop exaggerating, Greg.” She spooned peas onto her plate. “I’ve been very careful not to say I hated…” She seemed to realize what she was revealing, and paused. “Of course I miss everyone, but that’s natural when you move away from your home town. There’s always a settling in period until—”
“Jeez, some women are never happy, right, Jared?” Another wink. Jared could feel his jaw tighten. “She was never satisfied growing up either.”
“Probably because I had to fight for my share.” Kayla speared a potato from her brother’s plate. “Did you not notice I hadn’t served myself any yet?”
“Yeah, but I thought you’d be on one of those Hollywood no-carb diets. Isn’t that what everyone does here? Jared, you taking steroids, buddy? You’re looking pumped these days.”
“Nope, just gym work. You’re piling on a few pounds yourself, buddy.”
Greg patted his beer gut. “Yeah, but I don’t have to worry about competition like my sister does. Is that why you went on tour, Kayla, to keep an eye on him? All that pussy on offer, man, I envy you.”
“I like pussies,” Maddie commented, chewing the last of her meat. “Orange is my favorite because tigers are orange.” She brightened. “I’m going to put a kitten on my present list.”
“That’s a great idea, honey,” Kayla said tightly. “Why don’t you do that now?”
“Don’t I have to finish my vege’bles first?”
“You’re excused,” Jared answered.
She was out of her chair and running before anyone changed their mind.
The moment she was gone, Kayla glared at her brother. “Watch your potty mouth in front of my daughter.”
“Hell, Kayla, it’s not like she understood what I was talking about. Jeez, you’re so sensitive.”
“When you’re in my house—”
“Whoa, you better watch out, Jared. Her house. She might take that attitude in the divorce court.”
Kayla opened her mouth and hesitated. Jared knew what she was thinking. If she and Greg had this out—again—so close to Christmas it could make the joint family celebration awkward. Greg held grudges and would have no compunction sulking through the three days. And it was her mother’s first Christmas without Kayla’s dad.
Jared bit his tongue. She’d taken enough of the speaking-for-the-little-woman bullshit from her brother and her father Bill, God rest his soul. Kayla hadn’t been close to her dad—who’d been a milder version of his sexist son—but she was protective of her mom.
Then Greg winked at him.
He laid down his knife and fork. “Yes, Greg, her house, her food, her hospitality. We wouldn’t have any of this, if Kayla hadn’t supported me financially, and in every other way.”
“It’s a wife’s duty—”
“And what’s a brother’s?”
“Kayla knows I’m teasing.”
“My sisters would kick my ass if I spoke to them the way you do.”
“No offense, but that says as much about you as your sisters, Jared. I kicked your ass once or twice in elementary, myself.”
“Yeah, you’ve always been a bully. For years I’ve listened to your macho bullshit and watched Kayla smooth things over, for the sake of your mother.” Fiona was a lovely lady, but weak when it came to her son. “I’m done with it. Change your attitude or get out of her house.”
Greg threw down his napkin. “I knew you’d started thinking you were too good for us, Jared. You—”
“Shut up!” The baby looked up startled, and Jared laid a reassuring hand on his son’s head. “The truth,” he said in his inside voice, “is that you undermine Kayla because you’re an entitled asshole who’s threatened by strong women. I’m not having you poison my daughter’s self-esteem the way you try to poison your sister’s. Not only that, you’re ungrateful. How many times have you stayed with us when you’re in L.A. on business and boasted about pocketing the company dime?”
He put his hands over Rocco’s ears. “Bring your sister some fucking flowers, at least.”
Outraged, Greg looked at Kayla, who’d been sitting perfectly still through the exchange. “Are you hearing this?”
“Yes.” Now she blocked Rocco’s ears. “And I would appreciate some fucking flowers.”
Greg’s face darkened. “You’re taking his side? Fine.” He shoved his chair back and stood up. “Just don’t expect me for Christmas.”
Kayla stood, too. “Yes, you’ll come for Christmas. You’ll do it for Mom.”
He grabbed his coat from the back of the chair. “Mom won’t come either…she’ll choose me over you.”
“No, Greg, she’ll choose her grandkids.” Kayla stood. “And she’ll be unhappy doing it. Do you really want to make Mom unhappy when she’s still mourning Dad?”
“That’s emotional blackmail,” he blustered.