Page 124 of Love or Tequila in Unexpected Places

“Who is she?” Katerina chimed in at the same time, untangling herself from Angelo’s grasp with a furrowed brow. Her expression screamed, “What the hell, bro?”

Angelo cursed his own spectacularly bad luck. It was like the universe had scheduled his most awkward moments on the same calendar.

Well, this is going to be fun.

“Sheis standing right here,” Allison deadpanned, voice dripping with sarcasm. She slowly made her way down the stairs, her pregnant form nothing short of mesmerizing, even in just one of his oversized T-shirts. She stopped right in front of Katerina, radiating authority like a queen confronting a trespasser.

“Now, who are you,” she asked pointedly, “and what are you doing inmyhouse?”

Angelo’s heart skipped a beat at those words.Herhouse. The fact that this woman had just staked her claim like that? Yeah, that did things to him.

“Allison, meet Katia Papadopoulou,” Angelo said, gesturing between the two women. And because he was, at heart, a bit of a troublemaker, he intentionally left out the detail that Katerina was his sister. Why not stir the pot a little? “Katia, meet Allison Lockwood.”

For a solid moment, no one said a thing. You could practically hear the clock ticking on the wall. Angelo could feel his heartbeat thudding in his chest, loud enough to fill the silence. Both women stared at each other, a mix of confusion and surprise passing between them. He could’ve sworn he saw a spark of amusement flicker in Katerina’s hazel eyes.

Finally, Katerina broke the silence, a grin creeping onto her face. “Wait, wait,” she started, pointing at Allison, her voice laced with incredulity. “Is she—” She didn’t even finish the sentence before a chuckle escaped her lips. “Is shethegirl?”

Angelo mentally facepalmed.

Goddammit, Katia.

Allison’s eyes narrowed, probably intrigued by whatever secret sibling joke was unfolding in front of her. Angelo quickly switched into damage control mode, clearing his throat and giving his sister aplease-for-the-love-of-all-things-holy-shut-uplook.

“Yes,” he said firmly, trying to nip this in the bud. “She’s the one. Now, can we maybe move this to the living room?” He gestured toward the couch, hoping to get everyone to a more neutral ground before this devolved further.

Katerina, still giggling like she had the upper hand, nodded vigorously and waltzed over to the black couch like she owned it. Meanwhile, Allison remained planted in her spot, arms still crossed, her body language clearly screaming, “I’m not done with you yet.”

“Allison,” Angelo said softly, trying his best to use the voice he knew she liked—the one that usually softened her sharp edges. It worked, sort of. Her shoulders tensed briefly before she looked directly at him, but the anger simmering behind her eyes was hard to miss.

Angelo wasn’t a master of deciphering all the intricacies of women, but he prided himself on understandinghiswoman. He knew how Allison ticked—the way her emotions worked, how she handled situations, and most importantly, whatreallyset her off. Right now, she was a ticking time bomb, and he was standing way too close.

“Allison,” he tried again, a little gentler this time. “Can we talk in the kitchen for a minute?” He nodded toward the kitchen, already regretting how many layers of awkward this day was piling on.

Without a word, Allison followed him, the sound of her bare feet soft on the hardwood floors. Angelo busied himself immediately, heading to the fridge and pulling out ingredients for breakfast. Maybe pancakes could smooth over the minefieldhe had accidentally wandered into. He grabbed a bowl and whisk, giving her space to process.

The kitchen was silent except for the steady clink of utensils and the rhythmic sounds of batter being mixed. He knew better than to push Allison to talk before she was ready. She’d come around when her emotions settled. Right now, she needed time—and possibly some carbs.

He flipped the first pancake onto the pan, feeling the tension behind him. He could practically hear her thinking, and it wasn’t going to be pretty when it all finally came out.

“Angelo,” she said finally, breaking the silence with a voice that could freeze boiling water.

He braced himself, spatula still in hand.

“Did you know your sister was coming?”

Angelo paused, the spatula hovering mid-flip. It was only for a fraction of a second, but long enough for him to feel the weight of the question. His shoulders dropped as he exhaled. “No,” he answered truthfully, flipping the pancake with a little more force than necessary.

“She knows who I am.”

Angelo nodded, not bothering to answer. It wasn’t a question.

“Does your—” Allison hesitated, clearing her throat as if steeling herself for what came next. “Does the rest of your family know about me?”

“They do,” he replied without missing a beat, eyes focused on the pan. That particular conversation had been awkward as hell—introducing the idea of him, Allison, and their impending child to his traditional family. But it had been important to him that they heard it from him directly, rather than through rumors or some twisted game of telephone.

An imaginary grapevine, considering Allison and I haven’t really shown up anywhere together,he thought dryly.

The kitchen fell into silence, the tension between them mingling with the smell of pancakes. The only sounds were the sizzling batter and the faint hum of the refrigerator. Angelo worked methodically, his thoughts swirling around the mess of emotions he’d been trying to suppress for weeks. Within five minutes, he had a small stack of golden, fluffy pancakes, topped with blueberries and a drizzle of maple syrup. Simple, but he knew she’d appreciate it.

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