Page 6

“I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, Daisy,” Aurora apologizes, her voice revealing her embarrassment.

I shake my head and reach for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t apologize. Comes with the territory of living with a happy couple.”

She appears reluctant to agree but doesn’t push it any further. Rory is a closed-off person, but she feels just as deeply as the rest of us do. I wear my emotions on my sleeve the way my brother does.

“We’ll do better,” she declares.

“Thank you. I’m going to grab a glass of water and head back to bed.”

My brother keeps me in his sights as I stand and reach for the porch door. He has a tendency to worry about me and our two older sisters a bit too much. It comes with the territory of beingthe only man in a family of five women, so I don’t bug him about it too often.

Only when he steers toward unbearably protective.

“Night, guys,” I say before stepping inside.

The porch door swings shut as they wish me good night. I wander into the kitchen and fill a glass up with tap water twice and then get back to bed.

Once I’m tucked in, I lie beneath the comforter and stare out the window, wishing that I’d chosen to sleep beneath the stars instead.

3

BRYCE

I itchthe blank skin around the new patch of ink on the back of my hand and strain my eyes to keep them from rolling at my mom’s words.

She’s dressed to the nines like usual in a knee-length, powder-pink, A-line dress and matching pumps. Her platinum-blonde bob is swept out of her face with diamond-encrusted butterfly clips ordered in the same pink as her outfit. One step into the town office and I could smell the old money wafting from her.

It’s easy to recognize the scent when I’ve spent years scrubbing it off and extracting it from my blood with every prick of a tattoo gun.

My father is the mayor of Cherry Peak, but that isn’t why they stink the way they do. This isn’t a town where you’ll find fame, riches, or glamour from that title.

Their old money comes from generations back when my great-great-great-probably even greater-grandparents bought up half of Montreal, specifically Westmount, where my mom grew up, when it cost two cents for a loaf of bread and ten dollars for a Summitt view.

Dad was born into his own family fortune here in Alberta,but Mom’s makes his look like pennies in comparison. When they married, they became moguls without having to lift a finger.

I’ve never gone into the financial details with my parents, but I know enough to realize my family name won’t run out of funds for decades upon decades to come.

Big fucking whoop.

“He said you were quite rude, Bryce,” Mom says, continuing to go on and on about the guy she forced me on a date with last week.

Her French accent should be watered down after two decades in Alberta and less than a few months spent back home in Quebec, but it’s still loud and proud. Thicker in moments like this when her emotions get the better of her.

Much to my parents’ disapproval, I don’t have an accent at all. Worked hard to ensure that. If I hadn’t been forced to take private French lessons growing up, I wouldn’t have bothered learning the language either.

I slouch back in my office chair. “He also said he wanted me to date himandhis brother and give them a family of eight starting immediately.”

“Oh . . . and you didn’t think the brother was an acceptable option? Did you ask to see a photo?” she asks, jumping right over the problem.

“No. I didn’t ask for a photo of his brother. Do I really look like the right person to marry two men? And to birth not one but five kids? That’s not ever fucking happening.”

She tightens her stare, and I prepare for her scolding. “You really shouldn’t be so picky, Bryce. You’re not going to be in your twenties for much longer. Do you know how much harder it gets to find a man when you hit that number?”

“I only recently turned twenty-eight.”

“So you think it will only take you two more years? I’m trying to help, darling. I simply don’t want you to be lonely forever,” she soothes, the Botox in her cheeks keeping her smilefrom spreading the way it did when I was a child. “You were already born by the time I was twenty-eight.”

“Alright. Well, I’ll be fine.”