Page 15 of Crazy In Love (Love & War #2)

CHRIS

It would be a lie if I said Fox’s constantly chirping phone—while mine remains silent—doesn’t irk me a little. That Tommy chooses to update her, assuming she’ll update the rest of us when, dammit, he could text me!

But those are thoughts I lock down. Those are feelings I trap inside. Because we came to an agreement… sort of.

Didn’t we?

About how we would get along and stop picking at each other. About how, although Alana loves Fox and Fox is loud enough to always demand attention, the understanding is that at the end of the day, Alana lives here in Plainview.

Which translates to: Chris wins, Fox loses.

I should be happy when I think these thoughts. Fuck knows, I’ve overanalyzed this shit for months, and dropping Fox off a cliff when no one is looking has, admittedly, been a repeated consideration in the back of my mind.

But now, all I feel is an annoying ache in the pit of my stomach. Because I know what it is to hurt. To love and lose. To feel abandoned by someone as special as Alana Page.

Dammit, I sympathize with my enemy. Worse, I feel kinda guilty. So I cook a couple of steaks on the grill on Tommy’s porch, watching the juicy cuts sizzle while Fox and Franky sit at the patio table and argue over a game of chess .

“You can’t make that move!” Franky snatches up Fox’s queen and puts her back where she belongs. “That’s an illegal move, dummy.”

She gasps, extra dramatic, and presses a hand to her heart. “Dummy? Excuse you, child. She’s the queen. She can move wherever she wants.”

“She can’t move anywhere she wants. She still has to follow the rules.

” He’s getting pissed, scratching the back of his neck and huffing through his anger.

Which is exactly how he gets when he plays against Tommy.

“You should move your knight.” He picks it up and does it for her.

“That would be a good move, because then you cut off my pawn and stop my attack.”

“Really?” She settles back in her chair and swirls her wine—just one glass, she declared, so she can still drive to the hospital when we need to. Sipping, she hides her smile and masterfully manipulates the kid into playing against himself.

It would be genius, if it wasn’t so fucking infuriating.

“How do I know you’re not putting my knight there so you can take it later? Sounds like a conflict of interest to me.”

“You can trust me not to trick you.” He takes his turn—would have been a pawn move, had he not trapped himself with her knight—selecting his bishop instead. “It’s not winning if I’m cheating. I like to win properly, Aunt Fox. You know that.”

“Yeah, but…” She folds her legs, entirely too at ease.

And because she’s determined to fuck with us both, she spins the silverware Franky already set out for dinner.

“I wonder if, as you’re getting older, and especially now that you’ve got a baby sister on the way, maybe you’re less about winning fairly and all about winning, full stop. ”

She sets the fork back where she found it… but upside down.

“You know that’s not true.” He leans across the table and puts the fork back the way it was. “Take your turn.”

“Can I move this knight?” She pinches her king between her fingers and waltzes him five squares forward. “That’s a good spot, right?”

Frustrated, he puts the damn king back and moves her castle instead.

“Have you received any updates since the last one?” Relaxed, she folds her neck back and flashes a taunting smirk my way. “I guess things are getting a little more serious, since Tommy’s been less text-y.”

“Nothing since five centimeters.” I peel one end of my steak up and check underneath, so when I find it browned to perfection, I kill the gas and plate each cut up. “You were there for Franky’s delivery, right? How long did that take?”

Piqued, Franky’s eyes swing to his aunt.

She takes a long, easy sip of her wine and savors the flavor on her tongue.

“I was there for every single minute of it. I even saw her poop.” She grins, but that grin turns to a snicker in response to Franky’s reddening cheeks.

“Took about seventy-two hours from start to finish. It felt like an eternity .”

I grab the salad bowl and move to the patio table, setting it in the middle. Then I head back for the potato salad Fox insisted on putting together. “Exaggerating for the sake of exaggerating is dumb.”

“Cute. Except I wasn’t exaggerating.” She brings her eyes around to Franky and trades her wineglass for the fork on her left.

Mine . “She went in on Monday, around dinnertime, and your slowpoke butt didn’t turn up till Thursday.

It was the longest three days of my freakin’ life, and though I rarely, rarely , feel bad for men, those recliners they get to sleep in are rough. ”

“Was Colin there?” Setting the potato salad down, I snatch my fork from between her fingers and put it back where it belongs, before returning to the grill and grabbing our steaks. “Wouldn’t he have been the one sleeping in the recliner?”

“Sure, he was there, and he was honestly the kindest, calmest, most thoughtful dude ever. He brought us food and drinks and blankets and such. But he wasn’t her ride or die. I was.”

“He was her husband.”

“He was her friend . A man who saw a woman in need and knew it was within his power to help.” She snags my fork again and turns it in her fingers.

“Alana had no health insurance and no fixed address for state care, but she had a baby on the way. That’s a dire situation to be in and one that could have been exceptionally dangerous if things had gone badly.

Thankfully, before we even had to consider birthing in a back alley, Colin had a marriage certificate in hand and a health insurance policy drawn up.

He was a good, good man, and any woman would be lucky to marry him. But they never…”

I toss her plate onto the table and steal my fork back.

In response, she chokes out an irritating laugh and rubs her hand, like my fast swipe hurt her.

It didn’t.

“They never consummated their marriage, if you’re picking up what I’m putting down.”

“Subtle.” I place Franky’s plate in front of him, and then I head back to the grill to get the third for myself. “You’re seriously telling me he did all that purely out of the goodness of his heart?”

She shrugs. “I doubted him, too. But it’s been ten years, and he’s still a perfect gentleman.

Oh,” ignoring me while I sit, she swings her eyes back to Franky, “but that brings me back to topic. Your mom’s water broke on Monday, so we were living it up in luxury for a couple of days while you took your sweet time.

Which was kinda nice, since, back then, we were just a couple of hooligan teenagers who’d never lived so comfortably before.

Colin was at the hospital pretty much the whole time, helping when I told him what we needed.

But when we got down to the business end of things, I was the one who got to hold you right after your mom.

I got to cut the umbilical cord, too. It was like,” she makes a show of gnashing her teeth and squeezing her hands.

“Toughest sausage I ever cut through in my life.”

I press a hand to my mouth, sweat beading on my brow. And when I glance across to Franky, I find him in a similar state.

He gags, green in the face. “That’s so gross, Aunt Fox. Don’t say things like that.”

“Sorry.” Not sorry at all, she lays her chin on her shoulder and looks me up and down. “You got a weak stomach, too, Watkins?”

“Not weak. I just expect a certain decorum at the dinner table. Discussing such topics while we’re eating is hardly?—”

She pats my back. “Sorry, little buddy. I didn’t mean to upset you.

Seventy-two hours,” she concludes, grabbing my fork and her knife, and cutting into her steak.

“It was the longest three days of my life, but it turned out alright, since we got the cutest little purple alien baby ever at the end of it. Tommy’s in for a hell of a night, but he’ll come out better for it. ”

“Why’d you take my fork?”

Unbothered, she cuts a chunk of steak and places the morsel on her tongue. “What?”

“My fork.” I look down at where it should be, then up to where it is . “Franky set out the utensils.”

“Okay…”

“So that was my fork. Was there a problem with the one he gave you?”

“Uh… no. Here.” She elbows her unused fork in my direction. “Use this one.”

“If I wanted that one, I’d have grabbed that one.” I hate that my chest tightens. That my arms flex. My stomach hardens, and my jaw sets. “That’s my fork. You took my fork when you had your own.”

She chews and swallows, grinning around her meal. “It’s just a fork.”

“It’s not just a fork,” Franky rumbles, clinging to his like he’s terrified he’ll lose it. “These ones have a diamond design on the end, see? Diamonds.”

“And this one—” I don’t even touch the offending utensil—“It has no diamonds.”

“You realize the pattern is not what makes the fork, right? The pokers are.”

“They’re called tines!” It’s like The Hulk lives inside me, readying to explode. Waiting to spew green all over the place. And Fox is completely fucking incapable of not enraging me.

Luckily for her, I’ve had nearly three decades of practice keeping that fucker under control. So I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. Just like we teach at the gym.

Then I swallow and meet her eyes. “They’re called tines. And I like the fork with the diamonds on it. It doesn’t have to make sense to you. You just have to respect the way we do things around here.”

Her eyes glitter with taunting, dancing menace. And since she’s a cold-hearted, callous monster, she stabs her steak and cuts a little more off. “Why don’t you ask Franky for his fork?”

Startled, he slips his hands beneath the table and hides the cutlery with them.

“I don’t want his fork,” I grit out. “I want mine.”

“This one?” She drags her tongue along the silver, trapping the morsel of steak between her teeth and pulling it off to chew. “You’ll ruin a perfectly good dinner because of a fork, when you have a suitable alternative sitting right there?”

I drop my gaze to the offending fork and sneer. I don’t mean for my lips to peel back or for rage to build and bubble in my stomach, but when Fox breaks out in irritating little giggles, I know she knows she’s fucking with me.

“I’ve already slobbered on this one.” She lowers her lips into a fake pout.

“And sharing spit germs is just… it’s way too friendly for a couple of people who don’t know each other, ya know?

” She cuts a little more and stares straight into my fucking eyes as she places the tines between her lips.

“Don’t wait too long. This steak is delicious, but it won’t be nearly as nice once it’s cold. ”

It’s a standoff. Her looking at me, and me looking at her. My fork, pinched between her fingers, while her fork sits unused between us.

Teasing. Useless !

“Why even have forks that you don’t like to use? Seems kind of odd, don’t you think?”

“Because this is not my house.” My stomach grumbles with hunger, and my hands wrap around the armrests of my chair.

If I squeeze, I might just snap the wood and stab someone with it.

“There are appropriate forks at my house. While I’m here, everyone has the good fucking manners to let me use the one I want. ”

She scrunches her nose and leans just a little closer. “You’re not supposed to say fucking in front of Franky. You’re gonna get in trouble for that.”

“If you wait a few minutes, you can use my fork.” Franky pushes his glasses up his nose. “Wait till I’m finished.”

“Fuck’s sake.” I grab my steak in my fist, like a common fucking neanderthal, and chew off a chunk using the teeth my cave dweller ancestors gave me.

And when Fox throws her head back, laughing, I glower out at the lake and chew, chew, chew with the rage of a thousand angry little men. “Truce was fun while it lasted.”

“Aww, don’t get it all twisted.” She sets my fork down and pats my shoulder instead. “You’re gonna be okay, little buddy. You’re gonna be just fine.”