Her mind screeched to a stop.
“You know she’s working at Dr. Santos’s clinic now?” His words were low and gruff.
She knew. Damn it all. That woman. That horrible, nasty woman. The floor seemed to wave and buckle beneath her feet. The harder her brother looked at her, the worse it got. “Is she?” Why was the room so cold? And airless? “I mean, yes.”
“You know she is.” His hands settled on her shoulders, steadying her. His blue eyes—so like hers—assessing. “Renata... Don’t you have something to tell me? Us? All of us?”
Not yet. Not now. Life had been going ninety miles an hour for the last forty-eight hours. Before she dumped this on her family, she needed Ash to let go of this marriage foolishness. “No,” she whispered, knowing good and well her twin would see through her pathetic attempt at a lie.
“Renata Jean.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest and waited.
“Did you really just use my middle name? You’re not Dad, Fisher. This is my business.”
“Are you kidding me?” His face was beet red. “I’m your brother. Your twin. You are my business.”
Part of her had never loved her brother as much as she did at that moment. But another part of her needed him to lower his voice and respect her privacy. Now.
“What’s all the yelling about?” Hunter walked out of the kitchen. He took his role as the eldest sibling seriously, doing his best to keep his brothers and sister in line.
“Nothing,” she answered. Too late now.
“Oh, it’s something all right,” Fisher argued—infuriating her further.
He had no right to do this. She’d tell her family when she was ready. And, right now, she was not ready. “Fisher. Stop!”
Archer and Ryder pushed through the door next.
“We can hear you in the kitchen,” Ryder said, teasing. “You guys give me grief about setting an example for the kids, but I’ve never had a yelling match during a family dinner.”
Neither she nor Fisher smiled. It took a lot to make her twin lose his temper. He was close now.
“What’s happening?” Archer’s ever-analytical gaze swung between Fisher and Renata.
“Nothing,” she snapped. “For once in my life, respect my privacy. Without interfering or doing what you think is best for me.”
“Renata.” Fisher’s anger gave way to something a hundred times worse. His gaze fell from hers, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “You can’t expect me to stop trying to protect you now? Not when it’s always been my job. I can’t stand by and let you get hurt.” He took her hand in his.
“Get hurt? What the hell’s going on?” Now Ryder was up in arms, his voice hardening. “Whose ass are we kicking?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Hunter was staring at her.
They were all staring at her.
And now her father was headed their way. “What is going on out here? Food’s on the table. Clara and Eden made some mighty fine-looking fried chicken. Josie made that potato salad I love. And Kylee made a buttermilk pie.” He frowned. “Who’s doing all the yelling and why?”
Renata held her breath, hoping, praying—
“These two,” Archer said, pointing between Renata and Fisher.
“We’re fine,” she argued. “Let’s go back and eat together.”
“I like that idea,” her father agreed, hooking her arm through his and patting her hand.
“You sure you won’t be running back to the bathroom again?” Fisher asked, scowling again.
Renata stared at him, silently pleading him to stop.
He shook his head then, refusing to look at her. “Kylee always has it really bad at the beginning of the pregnancy, too. But, the further along you get, the less morning sickness you’ll have. Hopefully.”