Page 126 of Desperate Actions

Relief.

Acceptance.

Family.

I exhale, a grin breaking across my face.

“Wanna shake a tail feather? I gotta get these three back to university before they miss a class,” Andrea says.

“Oh my God, please make me late for Calculus,” Elena begs.

“No can do, sorry. I’ve got a meeting in an hour, so we better go. Besides, I am starving,” I admit, grabbing my purse and sweater from my chair.

The sweater isn’t exactly necessary. I mean. it’s warm outside, not even a hint of a breeze.

But the office is kept at a crisp sixty-five degrees, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones, that has you rubbing your arms absentmindedly.

So, I take it.

And then we head for the elevator.

The ride down to the cafeteria is quick, but the moment we step out, I realize just how big this moment is.

I’m not just having lunch with Andrea. I’m sitting down with all four of Sammy’s sisters.

And I know what this is.

It’s an interrogation wrapped in the guise of casual conversation. A test disguised as lunch.

I don’t blame them.

If I had a brother like Sammy—strong, loyal, the kind of man who would burn the world to protect the people he loves—I’d be cautious about anyone who claimed to love him, too.

But I’m not just anyone.

I’m his.

Still, the moment the cafeteria doors swing open, my nerves fade into amusement.

“Wow. I’m always so impressed by this cafeteria,” Merida says, eyes wide as she beelines for the sushi bar.

I bite my lip, scanning the options before settling on the stand serving Greek food. The scent of fresh spanakopita and grilled souvlaki makes my stomach rumble.

Andrea joins me, and a few minutes later, we’re all seated at a round table, eating and laughing like we’ve been doing this for years.

I don’t have siblings.

Never knew what it felt like to sit in a circle of people who just get you on an unspoken level.

But suddenly, it’s like I have four sisters.

And I like it.

The conversation is easy, flowing from harmless teasing to stories about childhood, from work gossip to who’s dating who.

But then—just as I knew it would—the topic shifts.

The air changes.

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