In the Mix (21 page)

“I’m sorry. I’m being very selfish. I’m sorry about your mom, Winnie.”

“Hush now. We were discussing your mom in the first place. I just wanted you to know that I understand.”

“Thank you.”

“Do the rest of your sisters know? You said you have four sisters, right?”

“Yes. Four. No, I don’t think they all know. She only told me last night. I’m always the first one she tells anything important to.”

“Why’s that?”

“Probably because I’m straight with her. I don’t walk on eggshells. We discuss things and after the seriousness gets too much, I come up with a way to find the humor in whatever it is.”

“That’s lovely. That’s exactly how I’d want to be treated. Life’s too short, CiCi. You and I may know that a little better than most.”

“Speaking of being treated a certain way. I gave you that apron because I love stuff like that. I call them conversational pieces.” CiCi laughs nervously. “But, I also wanted you to know my personality right off the bat. I can’t stand when people pretend to be a certain way that they’re not. In saying that though, I didn’t think—which is a common occurrence with me—about whether I’d be offending anyone. I actually didn’t think you would wear it. If you’re wearing it just to be nice, it’s really ok. I don’t mind if you take it off. It would probably make Kyle happy to see it off.”

I shift at the mention of my name. And that urge to run in there and tackle her in a hug returns to me.

“You really like my son, don’t you?”

My breath hitches.

“Yes, I do. I tried not to but he’s a persistent fucker . . . shit . . . sorry.” CiCi has the decency to sound mortified at her own language. I can’t help but grin.

“Why?”

“Why do I like him?” she asks, seemingly trying to clarify.

“No. Why did you try to not like him?” I can hear Mom spoon some sort of sauce or something around in a pan. I hate not being able to watch CiCi’s body language . . . or just her body, really. God, I love her body.

“Um . . . it’s just been a long time since I’ve been in a serious relationship, the kind that Kyle seems to be looking for. I’m not sure I can fully give him that. The last one I had, ended very badly.”

“What happened?” Mom pushes and I’m at the edge of my seat, here.

“We should get these out to the guests; they’re going to wonder where we are.” CiCi rushes through her sentence and I can hear drag a serving dish along the counter until she probably lifts it.

“CiCi,” Mom calls out.

“Yeah?”

“Kyle’s a good guy.”

“I know. Thing is . . . so was the guy that destroyed me,” she admits, then I hear nothing but the door between the kitchen and living room swing open.

“You can come in now; she’s gone.” Mom says quietly.

See how I never got away with any shit, growing up?

I walk up the steps to the deck and head back into the kitchen. “There’s just something about you, Winnie Cooper.” I bring my mom in for a hug and kiss the top of her head.

“Hmm.” She pats my back and I let go. “You all done with your temper tantrum now?” she asks just as she begins to stir the rue she’s making.

“Yep, I think so.” I sigh then look up as CiCi walks back in. “Hey.” I offer her a warm smile.

“Hey, yourself.” She places a tray down and grabs another one. “Everyone is asking for you, Winnie.”

“I’m coming right now.” She pours the rue over potatoes. Mmm . . . looks like something I will need to test taste. “Leave that alone, Kyle, it has to go in the oven.” She slaps my hand like I was reaching for it or something.

“I was only gonna brush the crumbs off the counter.”

You believe me, right?

“I call bullshit, son.” She gives me that “knowing” eye of hers before leaving the kitchen.

“She’s got your number, huh?” CiCi smiles over at me.

“She sure does.” I move closer to her. “I overreacted before.”

“Ya think?” She turns to me, leaning her hip against the island.

“Yes.” I nod, a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal. I get it. Most people don’t want to think about their parents and sex at the same time. It’s ok.” She shrugs.

“No, it isn’t. You only did the very thing that I love about you. I don’t want you to think I would ever try to get you to change.” I graze her hand with mine then lace our fingers together.

“You love that about me?” she asks apprehensively.

“Yes.” I move in closer until our faces are a mere inch apart.

“Why don’t you help me with these trays?” She backs away.

“Yes, ma’am.” I bring her hand up to my lips and kiss the back of it. After releasing her hand, CiCi grabs a serving dish and hands it to me.

“Mmm . . . Mom’s crab cakes.” I almost moan.

“Try not to eat them all before you make it out of the kitchen.” She raises an eyebrow at me.

I shove one in my mouth and smile big.

“Hey, I’m not the one you will have to answer to.” She shakes her head, grabs a tray, and goes through the door to where the party is. I follow her lead, after swallowing.

After a few minutes of traveling around the living room (possibly playing, “one for you, one for me”), I find CiCi with her back facing me, talking to Joan Livingston, our long-time neighbor.

“Have you known the Coopers long?”

“Just a few months.”

“Oh? How did you meet them?”

“Lindsay volunteered at my grooming shop. She was so wonderful with the customers and the animals, that I asked her to work for me. We’ve become great friends since then.”

“Joan!” I step into their bubble. “I see you’ve met my girlfriend, CiCi.” I put my hand around the small of CiCi’s back and squeeze her towards me a little. What? I couldn’t help it.

Joan’s face lights up. “Oh, well, she definitely didn’t get that far in her revelations.” she giggles.

I watch as CiCi gives a tight-lipped smile, her body tense. “I’m not surprised.” I nod. “See, we’re still in our trial period. We have about three more weeks before we can make the final decision to go through with it, right, Ceese?” I nudge her.

“Trial period? Go through with what?” Joan asks in obvious confusion.

I lean in towards her, “The wedding,” I say in a hushed voice. “She’s one of those mail order brides.”

“Are you from Russia, dear?” Joan inquires, the sound of scandal in her voice.

“No, no. I’m the new American version. We come as equals, having our own businesses and such. I’m just required to be submissive in the bedroom.” CiCi plays along. “It’s very upscale . . . so much that we get a trial period.”

“I mean, what if she snores?” I pipe up.

“What if he can’t keep it—” CiCi points her thumb up in the air.

“I’ve already discovered she farts in her sleep.”

“I do?” she asks, sounding appalled.

“Yes, dear. It’s quite offensive.” I shake my head.

“Um . . . well, I wish you both the best in your endeavors. I see Gertie is here and I’ve been meaning to talk to her about something. Would you mind excusing me?” Joan seems very flustered.

“By all means.” I smile, move out of her way, and usher my hand out for her to go. Joan leaves us to our own devices.

“Let me guess, nosy neighbor?” CiCi’s lips finally break into a smile.

“I’ve always sworn she’s a double agent,” I say through my grin as I wave to Joan’s husband, Walter, across the room. I bring my attention back to CiCi. “Have I told you how gorgeous you look in this dress?” I give her a once-over. “It matches your eyes almost to a ‘T.’” I circle around her. I lean in near her ear, “I meant to thank you earlier for doing as you were told,” I say quietly, tugging on the material at her hip.

Her breath catches. “I . . . I didn’t wear this because you told me to wear a dress.”

“No?” I straighten up and raise an eyebrow at her.

“No,” she states stubbornly.

Just as I’m about to call her on her bluff, my mom calls out for everyone to gather in the living room. Lindsay, who is never patient when it comes to opening gifts, is ready to open them. I grab the tray from CiCi to put down, and then take her hand in mine. Lacing fingers with her, I guide her to the center of attention.

“Where’s Mickey?” she asks quietly.

“In the shed, crated till . . . now, I guess.”

“What?!” She yanks her hand out of mine. “How long has he been out there for?”

Before I can even answer her, she’s already making a beeline to the kitchen. “Where are you going?” I catch up with her and grab her arm to turn her to me.

“Is it dark in there?” she practically yells and twists her arm out of my grasp.

“No.” I sigh and roll my eyes as she storms off again. Shaking my head, I follow her outside and stop. She’s too busy cussing me out, under her breath, to listen to me. I’m just going to stand here and let her have this moment of wanting to put her foot in her mouth later.
Christ!

You know what she’s going to find when she opens that shed door? She’s going to find Christopher, my little 2
nd
cousin, in there with Mickey, keeping him company. She’s also going to find that the shed has electricity, allowing lights and music to keep Mickey calm.

I lean up against the railing on the deck, watching as she opens the shed door. She stands there for a moment, then turns around and heads back. I cross my arms across my chest, as well as my legs.

“Did you meet Christopher?” I ask as she heads up the few stairs to the massive deck.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah? That’s it, just yeah?” I grill her. Do I sound like I’m looking for a fight? Yeah, I am.

“What do you want me to say?” She crosses and rubs her arms up and down. Eye contact? No.

“How about, gee, Kyle, I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions and thought you were some kind of asshole who would lock a dog up in a dark shed without food or water, for hours? You got something like that for me, Ceese?” I bite.

“Don’t chastise me.” Her eyes shoot up to mine. “I made a mistake, I’m sorry. Get over it.”

“I’m sorry, get over it? What the fuck kind of apology is that?”

Just then, the back door opens and my dad pokes his head out of it. “Lindsay’s opening her gifts, guys, and she keeps asking for you. I think you two have had enough alone time. This is her day.” Before we can even reply, he’s back in and shuts the door.

“Shit, he’s right.” She brings her attention back to me. She steps into my personal space more and looks up at me. “Listen, I am sorry. About the assumption and my shitty apology.” She toes up and lays a soft kiss on my lips. “We need to get inside,” she adds. I nod and take her hand to lead her in. “I told Christopher to bring Mickey in in a few minutes, is that ok?”

“Yes.”

“Kyle?” She pulls on my hand.

“What?” I look over my shoulder at her.

“Are we ok?”

I give her a slight, indifferent shrug. I don’t know how to answer that. I look forward and continue to guide us through the kitchen, swinging door, and into the living room.

“There you two are!” Lindsay beams. Damn, I do feel like a big jerk for spending the better half of this day indisposed.

“Sorry, Linz,” I offer. CiCi squeezes my hand as Christopher walks through the front door, holding Mickey’s crate with a cover over it. “I hope this makes up for my getting sidetracked.”

“What is this?” she asks excitedly. God, I love that about my sister, the childlike excitement. It’s so pure and infectious. I hate to admit this, but it makes me sad at the same time. I feel like I’m missing something that she has a huge hold on. I think most people are missing it, though. Everyone looks at her with pity, a lot of the time.

Fools—all of them.

“Are you ok?” CiCi leans up and whispers in my ear.

“Yeah,” I sigh before letting go of her hand to put my arm around her shoulder. She smiles up at me.

“Ahhh!” Linz screams. “He’s so cute! Is it a he?” she asks as she unlocks his crate and brings him out. I’m not going to lie, I’m a little nervous.

“I knew it!” CiCi says excitedly in a whisper. We both stand here, watching as Mickey kisses Linz like a sweet little pup. Not the terror I picked up several days ago. A wave of emotion comes over me and I can feel myself tear up. What? It’s my sister, for Christ’s sake . . . she gets to me. CiCi has her arm around my waist and she squeezes me to her. I glance down at her and she’s beaming at me, same glossed over eyes as me. We both let out a giggle. Well, she giggled . . . I chuckled. Men don’t giggle.

Fuck it. I giggle. I’ll just own that shit flat out.

“Christ, I thought the Livingston’s were never going to leave,” Dad grumbles as he reaches to the middle of the table for the pork fried rice. The party’s been over for an hour. I should say Joan and Walter left an hour ago. The party actually finished two hours ago. Mom and Dad both insisted that Ceese and I stay for dinner. Since Chinese was on the menu, there was no way I could refuse.

“What was this business about you two having an arranged marriage or something?” Mom waves her chopstick back and forth, pointing at me then CiCi. I bark out in laughter. I think CiCi was about to but she had food in her mouth and she is now coughing up a storm. My guess is it went down the wrong pipe.