Page 119 of False God

“Kit and Bash here?”

He shakes his head. “They’re running late.”

Typical.

I kick off my shoes and pad down the hallway toward the living room. Mom’s sitting on the sectional couch with her legs curled under her, flipping through the glossy pages of a magazine between sips of wine.

I glance around the room. Mom redecorated recently. My parents own this building, but this isn’t the penthouse I lived in growing up. It’s where Dad resided before they got married, which they’ve downsized to now that none of us are living at home. I have my own place a few blocks away, and Bash has chosen to crash at Kit’s new place, now that he’s graduated and is living in New York permanently.

“Hey, Mom.” I flop down beside her.

The silk of her blouse brushes my cheek as she leans over to kiss my head, just like Dad did.

Bash might be the baby of our family, but since he sprouted to six-five, I’m the one who gets treated like it.

“How was your day, honey?”

“Fine,” I reply, rubbing the arch of my foot. It’s still suffering from all the days I’ve worn heels lately. “I got brunch with Fran, Bridget, and Jasper. Then had the Dublin interview this afternoon.”

Mom closes the magazine and tosses it onto the coffee table. “How did the interview go?”

“It went well. I liked the team a lot. They’re supposed to get back to me next week.”

“That’s exciting.” Mom takes a sip of wine. “I’ve never been to Ireland. Your dad and I will have to come visit.”

“Visit where?” Dad walks into the living room, a bottle of wine in one hand and two more glasses dangled in the other.

“Ireland,” Mom replies. “Lili might be working on a project there.”

“That’s close to Italy,” Dad says, winking.

“Dad, our last vacation got moved three times because of your and Mom’s schedules. I’m not planning my job around it.”

They exchange one of those looks where they have an entire conversation without saying a single word.

“Fair enough,” he tells me, filling a wineglass and handing it to me. “Congratulations, sweetie.”

“Thanks. But I haven’t actually gotten the job yet.”

“They’d be fools not to hire you,” Mom tells me, smiling at Dad as he tops off her glass with another splash of wine. “Such service.”

“Anything for my girls,” he replies, kissing her soundly on the mouth.

“Gross,” I mutter into my wine.

They both laugh as the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it,” I volunteer, padding back into the entryway to answer it.

When I open the front door, my brothers are both standing in the hallway. Bash with a hand planted beside the doorway with a wrinkled button-down on. Kit is slouched against the opposite wall, wearing a faded Rangers T-shirt. The brim of a baseball cap is pulled low over his eyes.

“Seriously, you two?” I prop a hand on my hip. “Would a little effort kill you?”

I’m wearing a pink maxi dress with a flower pattern on it.

“Maybe.” Bash gives me a lopsided grin and a one-armed hug before passing me and heading into the penthouse. “Welcome home, sis.”

I knock Kit’s cap off as he follows, and he scowls. “Thought you were still shopping your way across Europe.”

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