After my aunt kissed my dad, Mom broke up with him because she thought my dad wanted her sister. Mom had some insecurities going on then, but she’s way better about it now. Probably because my dad tells her daily that she is gorgeous.
Swoon. I want that.
Not the point, but after my aunt kissed my dad, my parents broke up for a couple months, and when my dad saw my mom with another guy at his hockey game, he lost his shit. He busted the glass of her box by shooting a puck straight at them. He had the hardest shot in the league for seven years. He’s so badass. But he was letting her know he wasn’t over her, nor did he want to let her go. She ignored it because she was upset, but when she found out what my aunt did, she went on the ice and sang to my dad after not singing for years. When I get really sad, I find the video on YouTube and cry. Because they’re now living happily ever after.
I want that.
Or even a guy who looks at me the way Chandler looks at Amelia. Like she holds the world in the palms of her hands. Instead, I have sex with a guy who doesn’t even know who I am—when I’ve been totally infatuated with him my whole life.
Wow. I’m a winner.
“Speaking of Chandler,” Amelia says, pulling my attention away from my thoughts. “Can you swing through here on the way home?”
“I don’t know. Dad is coming to help me take everything to be shipped, and then we’re supposed to fly home, I don’t think Carolina is on the way.”
“Can you take a detour?”
“Why?” I ask, sitting up and checking the time. My dad should be here any minute. “I was going to come next month.”
“I know, but I need to talk to you.”
“Um, Am, we’re on the phone, and guess what, our mouths are moving—”
“Oh my God, shut up. I mean in person.”
I shake my head. “Again, guess what.” I hold up my phone and hit the FaceTime button. When her face appears, a look of pure annoyance on her features, I can’t help but smile. I’ve always thought my cousin was stunning enough to be a model. But instead, she uses that lean, toned body of hers to flip over stuff. She’s been a gymnast since she could walk, but now she’s a coach, and I can see all over her face how happy that makes her. “Holy crap. We live in a world where we can be face-to-face!”
“I hate you.”
“I know,” I say with a grin. “What’s up?”
She’s moving through the house and ends up in the bathroom. How I know is because I just helped her paint that bathroom when she moved in with her boo thang. A little grin sits on her lips as she holds up a stick. I squint at the phone as I try to figure out what she has.
“What the hell is that?”
“A pregnancy test.”
My heart stops. “No way.”
“Yeah,” she says slowly, and unchecked excitement shows on her face. “I know it’s crazy and superfast, but we’re really thrilled.”
“A baby? You’re having a baby?”
“I am,” she says, and soon tears are running down her face. “A little Amelia or Chandler.”
Emotion clogs my throat. “Am, that’s absolutely amazing.”
“Right? I can’t believe it.”
“I can’t either. I’m so happy for you,” I gush. And I am happy, but crap, she’s young. They’ve only been together like six months. But then, who am I to judge? When you know, you know, and Chandler is the one for her. “Was it planned?”
She scoffs but with a dreamy look on her sweet face. “Not at all, and I was scared Chandler would be upset, but he wasn’t.”
“Because he’s perfect.”
She gives me a wide grin. “He is.” But then her grin falls. “Even though he somehow set the kitchen on fire.”
I snort. “No.”
“Yes, he was cooking me some eggs, and I don’t know how, but the cabinets are all burned.”
Most people would be annoyed, but Amelia just looks blissful. Like she thinks it’s adorable that her dude just burned up their cabinets. “He’s insane. Keep him out of the kitchen. He can’t be burning down the house with my—” I pause. “Wait, what is the baby to me? My second cousin? I hate that.”
She mirrors my disgusted look. “Me too! No, you’re its aunt.”
“Yes, aunt,” I agree with a grin. “Have you told your mom?”
She shakes her head. “Not yet. We’re gonna wait to tell everyone. You’re the second to know, after Chandler.”
I grin. “I’m special.”
“You are,” she agrees, and then she sets me with a look. “Which is how you should be treated. Don’t be slumming it with assholes who thought you were brought there to be a booty call.”