Page 61 of Dreamboat

Delia

I walk into Wolf Candy and I’m greeted with a much better treat than the very best chocolate bars in the city.

“Auntie Delia!” My niece, Georgie, comes racing toward me.

Hot on her heels is her twin sister, Dora.

The girls are seven years old and big sisters to Penn Hawthorne. My nephew is almost six months old now but he’s nowhere to be seen.

His father is, though. Dressed as he often is in a three-piece suit complete with a stylish tie, my brother Roman, looks in my direction.

To most people, he’s the spitting image of Matthew, but I’ve always been able to tell them apart with ease.

“If it isn’t my long lost sister,” Roman quips. “Nice of you to stop by our apartment, Delia.”

I laugh that off.

I’ve spent the past few weeks spending a hell of a lot of time with Donovan. We finished reading Phantom’s Escape to each other, we’ve enjoyed some great meals that we cooked together and we’ve had loads of sex.

I’ve lost track of how many nights I’ve slept in his bed.

My life hasn’t been this perfect ever, but I know that I can’t hide whatever is happening between Donovan and me forever. We haven’t discussed what that is. Instead, we’ve been focused mostly on food and fun.

“I hear ya,” Nikita chimes in from behind the counter. “I’ve barely seen her either.”

“I’ve been helping out here quite a bit,” I point out because I have.

That hasn’t meant that I’ve had a lot of time to spend talking with my best friend, but we have managed to have a few good conversations. Most of those have been about new products that she’s considering launching.

She did ask me two weeks ago if I’d connected with Donovan after he wandered in here with Matt shortly after our cruise.

I told her I had but left it at that and fortunately a rush of customers piled into the shop at that moment so I was let off the hook.

I give each of the girls an extended hug before I do the same with Rome.

“I’ll come by for dinner soon.”

“Yay!” Georgie screams as she bounces up and down. “We’ll help Mommy cook dinner.”

Every time I hear either of the girls call Bianca “mommy” it tugs at my heartstrings. Their birth mother left New York shortly after they were born and she never returned. It cut Roman deep because our own father had pulled that trick on us when Callum was a toddler.

I have no memories of our dad and since our mom either tossed or hid away every picture of him that she had, I wouldn’t know the man if I passed him on the street.

I’m fine with that. He lost more than he realized when he walked away from his four children.

“I’ll help Mom,” Dora corrects her sister. “You know you’re not a good cook, Georgie.”

“Ouch.” Georgie mimes pulling a knife out of her chest. “That hurt.”

Roman puts his hands on Dora’s shoulders, pushing her long brown hair aside. “Don’t be rude to your sister.”

“She was rude first,” Dora accuses with a finger pointed in Georgie’s direction.

I hold in a laugh.

Their bond is reminiscent of the one I shared with Callum when we were kids. I’m two years older than him, but we fought like mortal enemies until we made up with our own secret handshake.

Forgiveness is the cornerstone of every Hawthorne family bond.

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