“Okay.” I wave as Nora guides Clive in our direction. “That’s fine. Hey, look, Mom. It’s Nora!”
My mother spins around in excitement. “Nora, honey!” She throws up her hands and quickly bridges the short gap between them. “You look amazing!”
Nora laughs, embraced in my mother’s bear hug. “Thank you, Francie! It’s so good to see you.”
“And this must be the infamous Clive I’ve heard so much about...”
I exhale, happy for the brief reprieve. I bring my glass to my lips and take a few discreet steps backward out of the kitchen as Nora uncomfortably tries to explain how the two of them met.
“Hey, watch it, whore.”
I accidentally bump into someone in the hall. I spin around, apologetic until I see Trix’s red grin. “Oh, sorry,” I say.
“You okay?” she asks with a plate full of fancy hors d’oeuvres.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
She chortles. “Let me guess, some rich friend of your mom’s wants to breed you?”
I roll my eyes. “Every damn year!”
“Can’t be helped. To their standards, you’re well past your expiry date. The fruit must be plucked before it rots.”
“Being recently divorced doesn’t help much.”
She shrugs. “Maybe you should go for it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Not the fruit-plucking part, obviously, but you never know. It could be fun for a night or two.Why not?”
I hesitate. “Not really my type of guy in this crowd, you know?”
Her beady eyes squint with amusement as she pops a cucumber slice into her mouth. “Right...”
“And I’ve got that secret admirer in my back pocket.”
“Always.”
“It’s not a good time,” I say. “I’ve got a lot on my mind right now.”
“Robbie,” she says with a nod.
“No.” I shake my head. “No. No, absolutely not. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“No, I mean...” She points over my shoulder into the living room. “He’s right there.”
I turn around and my chest quivers. It actually fucking quivers.
Robbie leans on the arm of a sofa, casually propped up as he talks to my teenage brother, Drew. For one night, he’s ditched the token leather jacket and jeans in favor of pants and a sharp blazer. Clean-shaven. Styled hair. Hell, he might actually blend in with the rest of the eligible trust fund dorks littered around my parents’ house right now.
He notices me staring and offers a deep, dimpled smirk.
Quiver.
Trix leans in front of me, purposefully blocking my view. “’Sup?” she asks.
I fake annoyance. “I can’t believe he came,” I say.
She slinks closer and wraps her arm around mine. “Don’t sweat it, hun. Let’s go find you a rich boy to play with!”
I let her guide me into the living room, keeping a wide birth from Robbie. “Where’s Lance?” I ask her.
“Not sure. I introduced him to your dad and the next thing I knew, they were talking about the Dow, so I just left.”
I gasp. “Oh, no! Not the Dow.”
She nods. “The friggin’ Dow.”
“Who knew Lance was a Dow guy?”
“I didn’t!” She shrugs. “I’ll try to distract him with boobs later. That should bring him back around.”
I laugh, trying hard not to eavesdrop on Robbie and Drew’s conversation as we pass, but the pull of his voice is far too much.
“You pick out a school yet?” Robbie asks.
“Yeah!” Drew answers. “I think I will stay local and go to Chicago North.”
“That’s a good school. Great parties! You gonna rush?”
I slow my stride, annoyed by Robbie’s suggestion.
Drew shrugs, his youthful eyes searching around for our parents, who would surely side-eye him pledging a fraternity. “I haven’t really thought about it,” he answers, though he obviously has.
“I used to hang out with the Alpha Delta Xi guys,” Robbie says. “Let me know if you want in, I’ll make a call.”
I dig my heels into the carpet and Trix reluctantly lets us stop.
“Cool!” Drew says. “Thanks, man.”
“No problem. Oh! Also, be sure to check out the boards in the art department. Sketch classes are always looking for models and they pay cash. Instant beer money.”
I frown.
“Side note,” Robbie continues. Drew hangs on every word. “Hit the gym. When they start drawing nudes, you’ll thank me. Art chicks, my friend. Trust me.”
Drew grins as Robbie gives him a big brother pat on the shoulder.
I turn my hands up, glowering hard at Robbie.
Finally, he notices me again and scoffs loudly. “Oh, what?” he asks.
“What do you mean, what?” I say.
“What?”
“Please don’t teach my seventeen-year-old brother how to be a creepy weirdo like you!”
He snickers as he turns back to Drew. “Another tip: avoid the English department. The Creative Writing girls are...” He purposefully looks me up and down. “Well, they talk too much.”
Drew smothers a laugh.
I stand up taller, ignoring Trix’s subtle pull on my elbow. “Yeah, well, what was it you majored in again?” I ask, my cheeks heating up. “Oh, that’s right. Nothing. You didn’t even go to college.”
“I didn’t need to,” Robbie says proudly. “I married rich.”
“And how did that work out for you?”
He smirks. “No complaints lately.”
I bite down, but not because I’m angry. Somehow, I’m not. Not even a bit. A week ago, this kind of exchange with Robbie would have instantly pissed me off, but I feel the edges of my lips twitching with amusement. He sees it; I know he does, but he keeps the same sinister, childish grin on his face.
“Hey now, you two...” My mother appears behind me again and grabs my shoulders. “Let’s not bicker tonight. It’s Christmas!”
“It’s December 9th,” I say.
Her smile remains, but her eyes pierce sharply. “It’s my party, all of my friends are here, so you can suck it up for one night,” she says.
“Yeah,” Robbie says, raising his water glass. “Suck it up, Buttercup.”
I glare. He smiles.
My mother sighs, returning his smile. “How are you, my boy?” she asks him.
“I’m doing fine, Francie,” he says. “Thanks for inviting me. You’ve outdone yourself this year.”
“Of course, dear! You’re always welcome!” She releases a happy grunt as she squeezes my shoulders again. “Seven months sober this one! Can you Adam and Eve it? I’m so proud of him!”
Robbie bows his
