Page 68 of Sinful Blaze

My sister has every right to give me shit. We’ve maintained a consistent FaceTime schedule every week for the past eight years, and I can’t remember if we’ve ever skipped a single one. So for me to completely forget for as long as I have? No bueno.

“I swear, I really was going to call!”

Melanie pouts as she pretends to think about it before she laughs and waves it off. “It’s okay. You’ll just owe me. And judging by that stunning kitchen backdrop, you can afford it now!”

I blush and toss the spinach into the pot of boiling water. “It’s just temporary.”

“Temporary as in you did or did not move in with your baby daddy?”

“More like… he’s a neighbor? Next door. Ish.” On the other side of the wall from the bedroom.

Close enough to hear me moan if I get too carried away with a pre-bed activity, let’s say.

I don’t know why I’m hesitant to share the details with Mel. I know she won’t betray me to our parents, and she’s taken everything that happened to her in stride.

Still, I’m just… uneasy. I feel better keeping my personal life compartmentalized.

In true Melanie fashion, her mind flies straight to the worst case scenario. She frowns at me and leans in closer to her camera. “Is there something wrong with him? Are you safe? Blink twice if you’re in danger.”

Before I can answer, the screen blurs and jostles until it refocuses, and my brother-in-law’s face fills the frame.

“Daph? You okay?” Jameson tries to look around the kitchen behind me. “Is he there? Let me talk to him.”

“No, he’s out at a dinner thing.” I drop the bundle of ramen into the pot and set the lid over the steam. It gives me enough time to make sure I look as at ease as possible, starting with a happy smile. “I’m fine, really. Girl Scout’s honor. How are you doing?”

“I’d feel better if you came here to live with us. We both would. Mel’s been worried sick about you.”

“Sorry. I’ve just been so preoccupied with everything. Pregnancy brain, right?” I laugh.

Jameson looks unconvinced, but Melanie wrestles the phone away from him. “Seriously, Daph, just say the word and we’ll come get you. Okay?”

“I appreciate you. Both of you.”

I really do. Melanie and I were best friends from the day she was born. My ride-or-die through every sticky situation our family walked ass-backwards into. And when Jameson fell head over heels for her, he also became the brother I never knew I wanted or needed.

They really are a match made in heaven, if such a place or thing even exists. Nothing Melanie could ever do or has ever done would drive Jameson away from her side. When her side gig as a camgirl came out, he was only upset that she didn’t tell him first. That was it. The whole world of Hamish high society imploded around her and our own parents shunned her from the shame…

But Jameson? He didn’t care. He just held her tight, kissed her tears away, and vowed to be her new family.

Take notes, men of the world.

Ever since then, he’s been her rock and my shield every chance he gets. I know our parents say it’s Mel’s “despicable behavior” that “pushed” them to “disown” her and “call her a ‘dirty whore,’” but I’ve always been suspicious that they’re a little afraid of Jameson. He wouldn’t hesitate to put them in their place, audience of their peers be damned.

I used to daydream about having a marriage like theirs. Happy, full of love, bracing together against every storm that dares to test them. My husband would be the protective brother Mel always wanted and needed.

Now, I have… what? An unexpected, unplanned pregnancy from a one-night stand with a guy I hardly know now, sure as shit didn’t know then, and who is officially a confirmed crime lord?

Ya missed the mark a little there, Daph.

“How are you doing, though?” Melanie relaxes on her couch with a sigh. “For reals. How are you holding up?”

I glance at the timer on the stovetop. I’ve got a few minutes to dive into the ugly stuff, so I sigh and lean against the kitchen island. “Honestly? I’d probably be doing a lot better if Mom and Dad weren’t so fucking dramatic about everything.”

“I keep telling you, Daph: Ditch them. Cut the strings. Go no-contact if you can manage it. You don’t need the stress and neither does your baby.”

“You mean, your niece?”

Mel’s joyous squeal threatens to shatter my tablet speaker. Somewhere in her distance, Jameson demands to know what just happened. She squeals, “It’s a girl!” and he whoops a victory cry.

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