Page 21 of Addicted Lies

“Soon,” I reply, barely managing to get out of his tight grip. “Let me go to the kitchen first, and then I’ll be back, okay?”

When I look back at Posie, she’s smirking and rolling her eyes. “It’s a new board game Dutton bought him. Can you tell?”

I laugh, smelling my mother’s baking, before I see her standing in the kitchen. She’s making blueberry muffins. Apparently, they’re Bentley’s new favorite. He goes through phases, and honestly, if I had a baker for a grandma, I’d be going through all the recipes as well.

“How did your interview go?” Mom asks excitedly, and I furrow my eyebrows.

“How do you know about it?” I ask, propping my hand on my hip. “Aunty Rya called you already, didn’t she?” Damn. Everything flies through this family so damn quickly.

“She did, and I’m baking you a cake to celebrate.” Her eyes shine with pride.

“Billie, sit down and tell me because your aunty Rya never called me,” my father says, tapping a spot on the floor next to him. It feels strange being back in this kitchen. The last time I was, I was making out with Ford. And he hasn’t touched my lips again since. Well, not the ones on my face, anyway.

“You can play with us too,” Bentley coaxes. He’s persistent, I’ll give him that but then I notice they’re halfway through a game.

“Looks like you’re kicking Grandpa’s bottom anyway, little fella. Keep it going. I might play next round.”

“Hey, he is not.” My father looks at his cards and then glances at Bentley, who is smiling so wide. Bentley isn’t their biological grandchild, but that doesn’t mean fuck all. To them, he is theirs.

When Bentley called Dutton Dad for the first time, there were literal tears, and it happened right after my brother proposed to Posie. Bentley’s a good kid. And although Dutton never wanted to be a father, he’s a surprisingly good one. But he spoils Bentley, and I know this because he spoils me in the same way.

Last week, Dutton attended a father-son night that they put on at Bentley’s school, and I wish I were a fly on the wall to see my brother either get sweaty-palmed for the first time in his life or intimidate every teacher there. The latter, I imagine, is more likely. When I laughed at him about the occasion, he threatened to punch me if I didn’t shut up. I didn’t stop laughing, and there was no consequence.

This family is crazy in its own incredible way. And although I love it, I can’t imagine bringing a man around them. My mother would most likely provide a false sense of security by offering him cupcakes, and my father would interrogate him and silently encourage Dutton to kill him. Not that he’d need any encouragement.

So I don’t win either way.

Aunty Rya was right about one thing today.

I’ve considered running away before. Starting a life in a different country again. London was great, but it was fucking cold. And anywhere in Europe still feels too close. If I were to go anywhere, my plan of escape would probably be Australia. But even then, I don’t want to get taken out by a snake or fucking spider.

My brother seems easier to deal with than crazy-ass wildlife.

But despite their flaws, I really do love each of them. And I would hate not to see them often.

So here I am, hiding who I’m fucking in hopes no one finds out, and trying to figure out what it is I actually want in life.

“So, my baby girl is now a big accountant,” Dad says and pulls me in for a one-armed hug, holding a bunch of cards in his other hand.

“Junior accountant. I have to work my way up,” I clarify.

“I’m proud of you either way. You deserve it,” he says. “You got your looks and brains from your mother.”

My mother rolls her eyes, and I can’t help feeling a pang of longing from wanting something that seems so flawless between them. I’ve never been in a relationship, but from time to time, I think about how nice that type of support and devotion must be. “You do deserve it, sweetie. You even impressed Rya with how good your grades were and the recommendations you got from the accounting firm in London where you worked part-time. We’re so proud.”

“Thanks.” I blush, feeling proud of myself, too. Posie hands me a glass of vodka and soda, and I blow her a kiss—a woman after my own heart. Watch out, Dutton.

Taking it, I sit back and watch my father and Bentley play as Posie asks, “So, what’s next, then?”

“Next?” I ask, taking a sip and appreciating the vodka. My Italian grandfather would be rolling in his grave if he knew I preferred vodka over wine.

“Yes, the world is literally your oyster. Are you dating anyone? Do you have plans to travel? You have nothing holding you back. Tell me all your plans so I can live vicariously through you.” She smiles. “Not that I don’t love my life, but mine was very different raising a child by myself.”

I sigh, staring down into the glass. And that’s the thing. Everyone wants to know the path I’m on. What I’m working toward. But I don’t even know.

“Well, I don’t really have any plans,” I say with a shrug, and the room goes silent. Then there’s that. It just feels like everyone else has their shit sorted out, and I’m just cruising, hoping for the fucking best.

“Billie, I’ve spoken with your brother. I told him he needs to ease off on interfering with your dating life,” Posie carefully says, and I appreciate the fact that she’s remained silent about what she saw months ago. However, I am curious about how that conversation with my brother went.

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