“Did you get that out of my fridge?”
“Of course I did. I’m hungry.”
“You’re here early to help me cook along with the others. You’re not supposed to be eating the random things in my fridge that aren’t for dinner.”
“You’re supposed to feed me.Feed me.” He drew out the words, and I rolled my eyes.
“How old are you again?” I asked, and Dorian just beamed.
“I’m you know, thirty. But that is not childlike.”
“I swear you act younger around me just to piss me off, don’t you?”
“Of course. It’s what I do.” His face went serious then, becoming the Dorian that people in the business world saw. “Are you okay?”
Since I was pretty sure that Dorian didn’t know about Blakely, he had to mean about tonight’s dinner. At least I hoped so.
“I’m fine. We’re having roast chicken, mashed potatoes, three kinds of vegetables, a cheese plate appetizer, and Isabella and the others said they would bring dessert.”
“Is it the roast chicken that has a lemon stuffed up its ass?”
“You’re so elegant. But yes. There’s rosemary in there as well.”
“Wasn’t that Grandma’s recipe?”
“Or our neighbor’s. It’s not like Mom and Dad really cooked,” I said dryly.
“It’s not like Dad was around to cook for us anyway.” A pause. “Well, it seems he was a little busy.”
“What the hell are we going to do?” I asked, finishing the mashed potatoes.
“We’re going to do what we always do, muddle through it and pretend that we’re masters of our domain.”
I grunted. “I really hate the fact that it seems that could be our true tagline.”
“We try. So there needs to be five of us, right? Two from our family, three from theirs?” Dorian paused. “I need to find another way to say that.”
“Because we’re supposed to all be family apparently?” The fact that we wanted labels or were unsure what to even call each other just told me how much of a farce this whole situation was.
“You looked at the group chat, Ford and Aston are coming.”
“So that’s four of us, we still need two of them then. Not quite five.” I shook my head. “I don’t know who else is coming, as it’s not like we have a spreadsheet.”
“I’m honestly surprised. It’s been three weeks. Shouldn’t there be a color-coded spreadsheet in the works from either Flynn or you?”
My lips nearly formed a smile and I shook my head. “We’re all treading the same water, trying not to drown. We’ll figure out exactly what dear old Father wanted.”
Dorian smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Mass chaos and disarray? Because that seems like his style.”
“At least he bought his own tombstone. I don’t have to deal with the marble or whatever the fuck he wanted. His estate will handle it all, and I don’t have to even go to his grave site, and kick at him.” I still couldn’t quite believe the venom in my voice at that, but what else was I supposed to say?
“I didn’t always hate him you know,” Dorian said softly.
“I know. Sometimes he was great. I wouldn’t be where I am in this job without him.” And didn’t that gall?
“I don’t know, I feel like you came out of the womb in a little baby-sized suit.”
This time I let the smile come. “Yes, complete with tie and briefcase. Diapers were a bitch.”