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“She grew up in a different era,” I said. “Used to be you had to bicker with the staff to get something good.”

“That’s how Ryan says Grandma is pushy and annoying,” Oscar said, and he leaned against the couch, grinning at me. “So, how’s the writing going?”

“Yeah, good, actually,” I said. “All my subscribers were really enthusiastic about my move to full-time, and it’s helping me produce a lot more articles, do some serious investigative digging.”

Stella made a face. “I still can’t believe you quit a six-figure job to go write stuff on the internet.”

“Ah, pay only went down by one figure,” I laughed. Stella didn’t seem to appreciate the humor, still scowling at me. Oscar shrugged.

“Gotta let your passion drive you and all that.”

Stella scowled at him. “You hate your job more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

Oscar put a finger up. “And I wouldn’t recommend anyone else do that. I don’t give Ryan a lot of credit, so believe me when I say she got this one better than me.”

Stella ignored him, turning back to me. “How’s everything going with Shane? He still hasn’t proposed?”

“You’ll be mortified to know you and Grandma are on the same page. No, he hasn’t proposed, and I don’t think he’s proposing here.”

She made a face. “What? That sucks.”

I looked out the window at the pool, the bar next to it already busy. I guess the time of day, the day of the week, didn’t matter much to people on vacation. Shane leaned against the bar, only visible in brief glimpses through the crowd, talking with one of my more distant relatives—most of them liked Shane better than they liked me, honestly. Not that they didn’t like me, but Shane just had that knack for winning people over… guess it was no surprise I had people clambering over each other to tell me I had to lock him down. “I’m not in any rush to get married,” I said, after a second, and Stella snorted.

“You’re a bad liar. It’s okay to admit you’re impatient. It’s been years.”

Oscar shoved his hands in his pockets. “I think Stella’s trying to steal your man.”

Stella wrinkled her nose. “I’m trying to be supportive.”

“He is popular with my family,” I said lightly. Oscar shrugged overdramatically.

“Hey, he’s a good-looking guy. Maybe I’ll be the one to steal him from you instead.”

“Hm. I don’t think he’d go for that.” My brother didn’t even like people. Wore it so openly that he could be homoerotic and not raise any questions, because nobody would ever accuse him of actually liking a man. Or a woman. Or anyone. Stella huffed, putting her hands up and turning away.

“I try to be supportive and I’m the bad guy. I’m just saying! You need to get on his case a little bit to get him to propose before he starts getting ideas.”

“Getting ideas,” I said, looking after her. “What does that mean?”

“He’s a guy. You know what that means.” She walked away before I could ask her any further, and I shot Oscar a look.

“You’re a guy. Do you know what that means?”

“Think she’s saying he’ll cheat on you. You know, men are all filthy animals who can’t control their lust and it’s a woman’s job to tame their desperate animalistic instincts.”

“Does my sister actually like men?”

He shrugged. “Men are dicks. Can’t blame her. If I were a girl, I’d be a lesbian.”

“I don’t think dating women is necessarily easier.” Not that I’d know—I’d never actually dated a woman, not for lack of interest. I’d known I was bisexual since I played volleyball at my high school—tight shorts on a bunch of tall, athletic girls will do that to you—but I’d never actually had the guts to date a woman. Never really come out to anyone in my family, either, although I was half-convinced sometimes that Oscar knew. Even just talking about lesbianism right now felt awkwardly like being in between realms, especially when he laughed, looking sidelong at me.

“Like you’d know?”

“Well, no,” I said. “But, I mean… no one’s perfect. Women have our issues too.”

“Ah, well, sure. Everyone does. But men get away with having issues. Patriarchy and all that.”

“Well, aren’t you socially aware. Been reading your Judith Butler?”