Page 61 of Not Quite Perfect

“Because I’m in love with your daughter, and I would never do that to her. If you don’t believe me about the blog, ask her yourself. Hell, ask Drew. He knows about the nickname, too.”

“Victoria knows?” She chewed her lip, a look of extreme unease taking over her features.

“Yes,” I nodded. “She’s known about it for months.”

Veronica fell into a wingback chair, her shoulders slumped in on themselves as the fight went out of her. She looked up at me with tears shimmering in her deep green eyes. Eyes so much like her daughter’s that it pained me to see her tears.

“What have I done?” she asked on a pained whisper.

I dropped down into a crouch and took her hands in mine. “The question is, Roni, what are you going to do to fix it?”

Twenty-Five

Victoria

I staredat the mess strewn on every one of my counters as I tried to figure out what I needed to do next. For some strange reason, I was having a really hard time concentrating lately. I’d been making this exact same meal for a decade, but putting my recipes together today felt like I was wading through a thick, clumpy bowl of pea soup.

Absently, I rubbed a hand over my belly, still a bit queasy from having thrown up last night’s dinner. The thought of pea soup did nothing to settle it. Thankfully, David hadn’t heard me sneak down the hall to the guest bathroom. He’d been so stressed at work—staying up late to grade papers and exams—that I’d wanted to make sure he slept as much as possible for the next four days of his break.

I reached for a bowl of green beans to begin snapping off the ends when the door to my living room clanged shut and I heard two sets of boots being kicked off and smacking against the foyer wall. A minute later, Theo and Alex entered my kitchen, Theo carrying two bottles of wine and Alex setting two six-packs of beer in the fridge.

“Happy Thanksgiving, sis.” Theo dropped a kiss on my cheek. “Smells good in here.”

“Thanks,” I answered, accepting a second kiss from Alex. “Did you wipe the snow off your boots before coming inside?”

“Yes, mom,” Alex crowed before catching his error. “Shit. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I said, my stomach bottoming out. I still hadn’t gotten over my anger at the fact that she’d tried to usurp my holiday. “Where’s Drew?” I asked, changing the subject. “He said he was coming with you guys.”

“He called this morning and said he’d be over later. If the screaming in the background was anything to go by, I think his girlfriend and boyfriend found out about each other,” Alex explained, rolling his eyes at our youngest brothers’ antics. We’d all warned him something like this was bound to happen.

“Where’s David?” Theo asked, pulling my corkscrew out of a drawer and reaching for two glasses.

“He ran to the store to pick up some molasses or something,” I replied absentmindedly as my eyes raked over the pots on the stove. Potatoes were bowling. Turkey was in the oven. Pies were in the fridge.

What else?What else? What else?My gaze landed on the bowl my left.Oh right, the green beans. I picked it up and passed it to Alex. “Here. Make yourself useful.”

He scowled down into the bowl. “What am I supposed to do with these?”

Theo patted him on the back as he set my wine glass down next to me. “Break off the tips, moron. Same as you’ve been doing every Thanksgiving since you were ten.” Alex grumbled under his breath, but got to work prepping the veggies for the sauté pan nonetheless.

I picked up the glass and lifted it toward my mouth. Before the wine could hit my lips, the smell reached my nose, causing me to gag. I slammed the glass down and lurched toward the bathroom, falling to my knees and hanging my head over the bowl just in time. As I emptied the meager contents of my stomach, the front door slammed shut and three large men rushed to the restroom to check on me.

“Go away!” I cried, waving them away as another bout of nausea roiled through me.

“I got it. You guys make sure nothing burns,” I heard David say as he dropped to his knees next to me, his palm rubbing circles over my back while I dry-heaved into the toilet.

When the sickness passed, I flushed the toilet and collapsed against the wall. David did the same on the opposite side of the room.

“Feel better?” he asked, his eyes filled with worry.

I nodded and pulled a wad a toilet paper down from the roll to wipe my mouth. “Just a bout of food poisoning, I think.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. The nausea started last night after dinner. I feel fine otherwise.”

He tilted his head to the side and studied me. “And the exhaustion?”

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