Page 49

“What difference does that make?”
“What difference does meeting arandom guyorLili’s boyfriendmake? C’mon, Kit. She’s our sister. We need to check this guy out.”
I snort. “You gonna threaten him to a duel or something? Because thatwouldmake this dinner worth attending.”
“I know it’s a foreign concept to you, but this is what people in relationships do. They spend time with each other’s families.”
“I’m twenty-three. Since when is that the time to settle down?”
“You’d understand this dinner more if you’d ever been in a relationship, is all.”
“Because you’re an expert?”
Bash dated one girl in high school and hasn’t gotten serious with anyone since. He’s always refused to talk about it, so I have no clue what went down between them.
“More of an expert than you,” Bash retorts, then strides ahead into the sitting room.
I sigh and follow.
The beagles my parents adopted after becoming empty nesters are the first to greet me. Ben drools on my left shoe while Jerry leaves a noticeable tuft of white fur on my navy slacks as he rubs against my shin.
Mom reaches me third, pulling me into a tight hug. Since she’s wearing her usual heels, the top of her head fits right under my chin. “You look tired, honey,” she says when she releases me, straightening my even tie.
I grin. “Been working hard.”
“He just got back from Vegas,” Bash comments, sprawling out in one of the armchairs angled in front of the fireplace.
I flip him off behind Mom’s back.
“Hehasbeen working hard,” Dad states proudly from his spot on the couch.
He’s transferring some caviar—the only hors d’oeuvre my grandfather serves—onto a plate. Ben and Jerry have abandoned their welcoming-committee roles in favor of begging at his feet.
“Thanks for the support, Pops.” I clap him on the shoulder as I pass the couch and continue toward the armchair beside Bash. “Where’s everyone else?”
Belatedly, I’m realizing there’s no sign of Lili or Charlie. I swear, if she made me come to this, only to not show up, I’ll?—
“They’re on their way,” Mom says. “Arthur invited them for seven thirty.”
I check my watch. It’s seven fifteen. “Then why the hell did Dad tell me to show up at seven?”
I shoot him an accusing look, and he avoids my gaze.
“Because Mom knew you’d be late,” Bash supplies.
I scowl. “Turns out, I’mearly.”
“What a refreshing change, Christopher.”
Bash sits up straight when our grandfather enters the room. So do I. Arthur Kensington has a presence that’s impossible to ignore.
“The butler is dealing with an … incident.” Grandpa casts a disapproving look at the dogs, which makes me think they were somehow involved. “So, I’ll be serving drinks. Scarlett, what can I get you?”
“Some white wine would be lovely, Arthur.”
Grandpa nods. “Crew?”
“Usual scotch, Dad, thanks.”