Page 54 of Boyfriend of the Hour

“Doesn’t care about his clothes either,” she replied like I hadn’t even spoken. “Classic rich guy behavior. Xavier is the same way,” she remarked to Lea. “I noticed it the first time we met.”

“Xavier is my other sister Frankie’s husband,” I filled Nathan in.

“And that one is married to aduke,” Lea said meaningfully. “In England.”

Nathan blinked. “Okay.”

“A very powerful duke,” she added.

He nodded. “The highest level of the peerage would automatically make him somewhat powerful.”

“And very protective,” she piled on. “Over this family, which he has adopted as his own. His youngest sister-in-law in particular.”

I smacked my forehead. “For fuck’s sake, Lea. You and Xavier barely even get along, so don’t make veiled threats to my roommate on behalf of Frankie’s husband. You have your own right here to help you bully my roommate.”

On the other side of the room, Mike grunted again. This time, he looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“I want to be clear,” Lea retorted.

Nathan was frowning now like he was trying to figure something out. “And you have a brother too, right?”

I sighed. “Yeah.” Damn his good memory.

“Who is not going to like this,” Lea said smugly. “Mattie will drag you up to Boston with him as soon as he hears about this nonsense.”

“He can try it,” I snarled back. “But at least Mattie knows to steer clear when the claws are out.”

“True dat,” Kate commented as she edged out of the room, clearly to snoop around.

“Amen,” Mike muttered to himself, looking like he would rather be anywhere else.

Nathan now wore the same expression.

“I’m just saying,” Lea continued. “Dr. Fancypants isn’t the only one with a bit of money and some power.”

“A lot of money,” Kate’s voice called from down the hall. A long whistle followed.

We all turned to find she was gone. We found her standing in the living room, staring at the painting hanging over the fireplace.

“My dude,” Kate said to Nathan. “That’s a Degas, isn’t it?”

No one else in the apartment reacted, though Mike immediately dug out his phone.

“What’s a Day-gah?” he asked Lea.

She shrugged. “The heck if I know.”

“He was a famous painter,” Kate told them. “We learned about him in art school. Lea, I’m sure you know at least some of his paintings. The famous ones about the ballerinas. Like that one. It’s real, isn’t it?”

Nathan’s eyes jumped between all of us as he seemed to measure whether or not to answer the question. Then, his shoulders relaxed like he’d made a decision.

“Yes,” he said as he pushed his glasses up his nose again. “It is.”

Kate gasped, and now all three of my family members turned to examine the painting while I looked at it from the arched entry of the room.

Something about the painting did resonate. In it, a dancer lay on the floor, arms reaching toward her toes as she stretched. I smiled. The scene was familiar. She was clearly out of breath, and her dark hair curled around her neck just like mine did at the end of a long night.

Nathan moved next to me while my family took turns arguing about how much the painting was worth.