Page 13 of Unexpected

“So, what’s been going on with you?” she asked after she sighed and reassured me that she really did love them.

“Same ol’ same ol’.”

“Okay, you know that response is not going to work for me. I need the details of your life.”

I sighed audibly, and she started to nag again before I cut her off. “Everything is good. I’m writing more, and I feel like it’s really coming along well.” Partly a lie, but it was something to say.

“The book, right?”

“Yes, the book.” My sister was the only person that knew I was writing a book. After years of technical writing experience, I needed a better creative outlet. I loved writing in high school, so when Michael started traveling more, it was an enjoyable way to fill my time.

I hoped it would eventually turn into a full-length novel, but lately, each time I sat down to write, it became more and more difficult to put words down on the page. It seemed I was never in the right headspace to write my chosen romance novel.

“Can I know what it’s about yet?”

“Nope.”

“When do I get to know?”

“When it’s done.” To be honest, I wasn’t completely confident that I could write a romance novel like I was envisioning. I didn’t want to tell anyone until I knew for certain I could do it.

“How long until it’s done?”

“D, is this twenty questions about my damn book or what?”

“Fine, fine,” she conceded. “Tell me about Michael then. Let me guess, he’s traveling?”

And like clockwork, the Michael bashing began. When I didn't respond, she continued, “I’m sorry. I won't say anything else besides the fact that he’s always gone, and it’s a red flag. I don’t want to see my little sister hurt. Also, if you need me, I will be there faster than you can say, ‘get on a plane and come see me,’ okay? Just say okay, so I know you heard me.”

“Okay, D.” I was not going to argue with her. It was a moot point and would only end in us hanging up on each other and being angry the rest of the day.

A part of me, that kept growing and was slowly taking over every other part of me, had begun to believe that her comments and concerns were warranted. After hearing the woman in the background purring my fiancé’s name in his hotel room, I couldn’t scrub the doubt from my mind. I couldn’t allow myself to be cheated on and not do anything about it.

I needed to see him in person. That usually made it better. When I got in my own head, seeing his face light up when he saw me made it all make sense.

“I can’t believe you’re going to be twenty-eight. I can’t be old enough to have a twenty-eight-year-old little sister,” Delilah said, expertly changing the subject.

I chuckled. “You’re only five years older than me. It wasn’t long ago you were twenty-eight.”

“I guess you’re right,” she said before screaming erupted in the background, and a string of creative names for her children, includingshit munchers, Neanderthals, and demon spawns, flew out of her mouth.

“One second, Hazel. Oh my god, one second,” she cried into the phone before I heard stomping and even more yelling on the other end of the line. As I listened to my sister chase her children around the house—or so it sounded—I peered through my bedroom window to see Luke peeling off a light-blue shirt before stepping into his bathroom.

With no one around, I let myself stare at his heavily tattooed upper body. The dark hair over his chest ran down between his abs and continued until it disappeared beneath his shorts. When he walked into his bathroom, I got an eyeful of his toned back and the intricate ink there. I felt my cheeks heat when I thought about what it might be like to outline his tattoos and see the details up close. Thoughts an engaged woman should definitely not be having about anyone besides her fiancé.My face flushed deeper just at the thought.

Michael had clean, unmarked skin and very little body hair. I was amazed that the sight of Luke—Michael’s opposite in so many ways—had any effect on me.

There was the faint sound of slamming that knocked me back just before she said, out of breath, “I’m back.”

“What the hell happened, or do I even want to know?”

“You probably don’t want to know, but I’m going to tell you anyway. The little pests brought a little pest inside my damn house. They brought a freaking rodent in here and tried to show it to me like they had just won the damn lottery. I swear these are not my children. I’m beginning to believe that they were switched at the hospital,” she decided.

“Right. Both of your children? What are the odds that the children you had two years apart were both switched at birth?”

“Oh, hell, I don’t know,” she said, exasperated. “But it’s a lot more likely than them being related to me.”

“Whatever you say, sis.”

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