Page 7 of Theirs for the Holidays

I need to wrap this up before it gets more out of hand.

“It’s not that exciting,” I tell them. “We’ve just been talking a lot, and one thing led to another.”

“Three times?” Isabelle throws out.

“Yes,” Rhett says firmly. “That’s why we’re all here.”

“Uh, I’m also getting married, remember?” Andrew says. “Don’t forget about that.”

“That too.” The way Rhett says it makes it sound like an afterthought, and I have to smother the ripple of amusement.

My heart is still pounding through the conversation. I’m half waiting for all three of them to laugh and admit this is all a lie, or for someone to see through everything, but it doesn’t happen.

They seem as committed to this as I am now.

Isabelle folds her arms, leaning back in her chair. “It’s a little weird for you to be dating all three of Andrew’s brothers, isn’t it, Vi? I mean, he is your ex.”

For a split second, I see red. I have to work to bite back the comment I want to make, which is that Isabelle is sitting there at the table, wearing an engagement ring from my ex. If anything’s weird, it’s that. But that would cause more drama, and I don’t want that right now. I don’t want things to get ugly.

“Now, now,” Mom says, jumping in. Maybe she can sense the tension growing at the table between me and Isabelle. “This actually works out for the best. Your brothers already have their own invites to the wedding, Andrew, so your cousin can still come, and Violet still gets her date. Her… dates.”

Instead of looking happy about that, Andrew just looks irritated. His eyebrows turn down, and he’s a half step away from pouting.

But he doesn’t argue. He just nods and starts pushing food around on his plate.

The conversation moves on, thank goodness, with Mom rushing in to start talking about other wedding logistics. That’s enough to soothe things with Isabelle, now that she’s back to being the center of attention, but I can’t really focus on anything that’s being said.

I just keep replaying the conversation over and over again in my mind, still more than a little shocked that this is where we ended up.

Dinner wraps up with no more surprises, and Mom gets up with a smile. “Alright, if we all want to move to the living room, we’ll have some dessert and coffee.”

Everyone gets up, but before the older Sullivan brothers can go far, I lean in to whisper to them, “Can I talk to you? All of you?”

“I guess we should,” Sawyer says, nodding. The other two nod as well, and I lead them down the hall to the guest room, closing the door and locking it for good measure.

It’s not far enough away from the living room that we can be loud about this, so I start off in hushed tones. “What was that? What just happened?”

Lennox glares at his brothers. “It’s a good question. What the fuck was that?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Sawyer replies with a snort. “You spoke up the same as we did.”

“Easier to place blame than take responsibility though,” Rhett fires back. “Always has been.”

Lennox rolls his eyes. “So now you’ve got the moral high ground? Makes a nice change, I guess.”

“Which one of us are you talking to?”

“Either of you. Same shit applies.”

Sawyer laughs, and there’s something almost bitter about it. “What were you saying about having the moral high ground again? You know what they say about pointing fingers, Lennox.”

“Don’t talk to me,” Lennox says, holding up a hand.

“What are you, five?”

“I was going to ask you the same question. Some of us grew up, learned about responsibility.”

“Oh, here we fucking go.”