Page 70 of Broken

Mason nods. “Or any weird husband and wife telepathy shit.”

Mel’s laugh fills the kitchen.

I snatch the wooden spoon from Mason’s hand. “And exactly what weirdtelepathy shitdo you think we can do, numbnuts? We’re not twins.”

Mason shrugs. “I don’t claim to understand the intricate workings of married life. All I’m saying is don’t try to sway her. I know you like to win by any means necessary.”

“I don’t need to cheat,” I assure him.

Elijah puffs out his chest. “I will present Mel with her options. You two can stand behind her while she decides so there’s no risk of foul play. Okay?”

“Fine,” Mason and I say in unison.

Elijah guides Mel to sit on a stool with her back to Mason and me, then clears his throat. “You understand the gravity of the decision you’re about to make, Melanie?” he asks, his tone all business.

She gives a firm nod. “I do.”

He takes a breath. “Do we have lumpy mashed potatoes with skins, butter, and a little salt and pepper? Or smooth, no skins, with cream and just a dash of salt?” I scowl at the way he all but licked his lips when he gave her the second option.

She hums and takes the time to properly consider her options. Mason and I wait with bated breath.

“Definitely smooth with cream,” she declares.

Mason roars triumphantly and jabs his finger into my sternum. “You just got schooled, son.”

I drop my head into my hands. “Jesus, Spitfire. What the hell have you done?”

She spins around to face me. “Oh no. Was that not yours?” I can tell she’s trying to sound contrite, but she can barely contain her laughter as Mason bounces around the kitchen like he just won the heavyweight title. He high-fives Elijah, and they both loudly declare their victory.

Mel wraps her arms around my waist. “I’m so sorry, Ice.” She giggles.

Our father’s loud voice cuts through the kitchen. “What’s all this shouting about?”

Mason fist pumps the air. “We’re having my mashed potatoes for Thanksgiving instead of Nathan’s.”

“No.” Dad shakes his head. “Skin on with butter. Just like your mom used to make.”

“But Dad,” Mason whines. “You said you didn’t care.”

Dad shrugs. “That was only to spare your feelings, son.”

Mel puts a hand to her mouth and stifles another giggle. Dad puts an arm around her shoulders and kisses the top of her head. “Lovely to see you, sweetheart.”

“You too,” she says, grinning up at him, and my old man smiles widely.

“Will your sister be joining us for Thanksgiving?” he asks.

Her smile falls and she shakes her head. “No, not this year. She’s staying with her friend who’d otherwise be on her own, and they have plans to go to a concert. But she’ll be home for Christmas. And I know she’d love to join us here.”

My father gives her another brief squeeze. “She’s more than welcome any time.”

As soon as he’s out of earshot, I pull my wife close and stare into her eyes. “I can’t believe you didn’t choose my potatoes, corazón. Your betrayal has cut me deeply.”

A wicked grin spreads over her lips. “I’m so sorry.” She flutters her eyelashes. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” I say, squeezing her ass and arching my eyebrows.

“Come on,” Mason groans. “Let the woman go so she can get a drink.”

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