Page 4 of Unreasonably Yours

Cillian

“Fuck.” I drag the word out on a breath as I lean against the office door.

“Oh no.” My eyes shoot open, meeting my cousin's already panicked expression from her place seated at the desk. I'd been too distracted by my own stupidity to notice she’d come back here. Had I known, I would have kept my mouth shut.

Ginelle sets her mascara down, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Cillian, if it’s already that bad, you're gonna have to accept my resignation because I cannot?—”

“No.” I wave my hands in the air, trying to clear her concern like smoke. “No, everything is...It's fine.” I collapse onto the sagging couch, my bad leg begging me for a bit of reprieve.

“Obviously. So fine. You seem completely normal.” She retrieves her abandoned mascara.

“Who's the cute redhead you were talkin' to?” My heart stills in my chest. Was I that obvious? “Haven't seen her before.” I wasn't obvious, Ginelle is just forever nosy.

Everything is fine. Relief only manages to send my pulse back to the frenetic pace it was at. “She just moved here. Where's your brother?”

I almost feel bad asking. As the only girl in a family of six, she hated being responsible for any of them, especially the oldest. Knowing it will redirect her from anything Toni-related soothes my guilt.

Keeping any and all members of my family away from some innocent woman was the best choice—and I do actually need to know where the fuck Joey is.

If he didn't show though...I wonder if Toni is the type to be offended by a perfectly reasonable raincheck request. I mean, ‘My cook isn't here so I gotta step in,’ doesn't sound like bullshit and it wouldn't be a lie.

Then I could actually plan where we were going instead of running off at the mouth.

Dinner. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“As shocking and cliche as this always is, I am in fact not my brother's keeper. I don't know where he is. Did you call?”

“Nah. I just thought I'd wait the hour until you got here to ask purely for the pleasure of pissing you off.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Of course I called. And texted. And left a voicemail.”

She shrugs. “This is what you get for letting him do whatever the fuck he wants.”

“I don't let him do whatever the fuck he wants.”

“Bullshit.” She closes her mirror with a harsh snap. “If any of the rest of us showed up an hour late, once, you'd have our asses.”

“Can't exactly run a bar without bartenders.” I glance at my phone. Still nothing. “The food is a bonus.”

“Whatever. You're too fucking easy on him.”

I want to argue with her, explain for the hundredth time that I'm not easy on him, I just have a little extra grace. Functioning as a person is hard enough, trying to do it with the baggage combat brings? It was too much sometimes. I understood that far too well .

“Too easy on who?” Joey asks as he flings open the back door.

“You, who the fuck else?” Ginelle gets to her feet, shoving her makeup back into her bag.

“What crawled up your ass?”

“What craw—You're an hour late and you're not even gonna apologize,” she accuses, spinning on him.

Joey raises his hands as if fending off a blow, “I just got in the fuckin' door.” He looks over at me, “I am sorry. Traffic.”

“Right. And traffic, what? Ate ya phone?” Ginelle crosses her arms over her chest, waiting for his answer.

“If you must know, the screen broke.” He pulls an apron off a hook on the wall. “Took it to a repair shop to get fixed. It's part of why I was late.”

Ginelle turns away, shaking her head and checking herself in the ancient floor-length mirror. “Always an excuse,” she mutters.

“You fucking asked. I answered. How is that?—”

“Kids,” I say loud enough to fill the room. “Kindly cut it the fuck out.” I sigh and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Joey, just go get the kitchen going, and please don't be late again. Ginelle, Shane's been out there on his own while you two've been bickering so?—”

“Something's up with you.” Joey cuts me off.

“Nothing's up with me.” I counter.

“No, he's right. You came in here all, 'Fu-uh-uh-ck,'“ She dramatically reenacts my earlier entry against the door for her brother.

“I wasn't that fuckin' bad,” I grumble.

“Pretty close,” she perches on the arm of the couch beside me.

“So what's up?” Joey asks. Both of them stare at me expectantly .

“Is it the cute redhead at the bar?” Ginelle asks in a loud whisper.

“I gotta see this.” Joey manages to get his big head just outside the door before I can extricate myself from the sand trap of a couch.

I grab him by the collar of his white tee, pulling him back inside and slamming the door shut a little too loudly for my liking.

He laughs as he regains his balance. “Definitely about the redhead.”

“Weren't the two of you just fighting? How the fuck are you suddenly on the same side?”

Ginelle slides down the arm to lounge in my vacated spot. “See, when you have more than one sibling, you learn to put your allegiances wherever best suits your needs at the time.” Joey nods as if she'd just imparted some sage wisdom.

“Remind me to thank Michael for not being insane,” I say. I remain by the door, not trusting either of my cousins.

Ginelle sighs, pulling her phone from her pocket. “Tell us what's up or I'll just text Lucy and she'll tell me.”

“Oh, so you two are talking again?” I ask.

“We're always talking,” she says dismissively. At least she has the decency to deliver the lie without looking me in the eyes. My cousin's off-and-on-again relationship with one of my best friends was a mess worthy of a B-plot on a prestige lesbian drama.

I pull her phone from her hands. “Hey!” She jumps up to try and grab it. Ginelle may be pushing six feet, but I still have a few inches on her, so I easily keep it out of reach.

“You are not going to ask Lucy shit because Lucy doesn't know shit, and she doesn't need to.” I move to hand the phone back, only to pull it away once more. “Neither does Oliver.”

“What you're saying is there is something to know,” Joey says .

“This is why family businesses fail.” Pushing past them both, I walk over to the desk, pull out my keys and wallet, and shove them into my pockets.

My cousins remain close to the door, both practically salivating as they wait for me to give them a morsel of anything.

I rest my hands on the buttery soft wood of the old desk, my shoulders sagging. “Fine.” I am absolutely going to regret this. Not right now. But eventually, one or both of them will make sure I regret telling them anything. I just know it. “Yes, it's the cute redhead at the bar.”

“I fucking knew it!” Ginelle pumps her fist in the air. “She's so cute and so your type, also I love her?—”

“Let the man finish.” Joey nudges his little sister's shoulder.

“Sorry.”

“Anyway,” I straighten and rub a hand down my face, “my mouth may have gotten ahead of my brain, and I asked her if she wanted to grab dinner.”

We all stare at one another for a few breaths. “And she said...” Joey hedges.

“Yes. Why else would I be like this?”

Ginelle squeals while Joey says, “I'm missing the problem here.”

I throw my hands up, letting them fall just a bit to cradle the back of my head.

“I don't know. I...” I turn my eyes to the ceiling, huffing a loud breath.

“I don't know where to go or what she likes or what to say or.

..I just...I don't know.” I shrug, letting my arms hang limp at my sides.

“Proud of you for taking a swing, man.” Joey ties his apron, sated with this little bit of personal drama. “But I'm useless here. Gin, you take over. I gotta get the grill going.”

When the door shuts behind him, Ginelle turns a warm smile on me. “This is a good thing.”

“Don't do that shit. ”

“What?”

“That whole condescending, good-for-you thing. I hate it.” I didn't need coddling or to be told the most mediocre shit was a great feat.

“I'm not being condescending, you ass. It's just,” she leans back against the door, “it's been a while since Kevin, and it's good to see you putting yourself back out there. It's hard after a nasty breakup. For anybody.”

Much to my surprise, I didn’t react to hearing my ex's name. Which, I suppose, shouldn't be shocking since it has been almost three years, but when someone you considered spending your life with decides you're just not worth the effort anymore, that shit lingers.

“What do I do, then?”

Ginelle grins. “First off, and I know this is going to sound crazy, you can just ask her what she likes.”

“Fuck you,” I say with a smile.

“Or better yet, ask what she doesn't like. Usually, that's a shorter list. But if you want something close, The Barrel is a good option, just down the block, nice-adjacent without being over the top.” She thinks for a second. “Or Masala, you know Mr. Joshi will hook you up.”

“Yeah, not sure overloading on potato naan is the right call here.” Though it is amazing, and he does give my family a little extra every time.

She shrugs, “So as long as she doesn't hate a good truffle fry—and if she does, she's a monster and you should run—just go to The Barrel.”

I nod, releasing a sigh as I force my muscles to relax.

Ginelle walks over and cups my face in her hands. “Don't overthink this. Just have a good time.”

“Thanks. Seriously.”

“You know I always got your back.” She playfully punches me in the chest .

Before she heads out the door, I call, “And do not tell Lucy or Oliver.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves me off without a second glance.

I massage the bridge of my nose, accepting that I'd be fielding a barrage of questions from my best friends tomorrow morning at the very latest.

“You know, when you said this place was called The Barrel, I had my doubts.” Toni looks around at the warm wood paneling and brass accents while I try not to stare.

The ambient amber light filling the space makes the woman across from me look more radiant than anyone has a right to. “But it's cute.”

“Cute as in, ‘Wow, this is the worst, but I don't want to hurt this strange man's feelings,’ or?—”