Page 117 of We Can't Be Friends

“You have?” I peek over at Cal. His cheeks are a shade of red that I commit to memory. I wonder how I can paint his skin that color again? “Cal’s spoken highly of you too, Mr. Sullivan.”

“It’s Tripp.” He moves the papers. “Here, sit.”

I take Cal’s seat as he pulls a coffee from the fridge. Coming to stand behind me, he places the glass in front of me and, to my surprise, wraps his arms around my shoulder, kissing the top of my head.

“Will you join us for brunch?” Tripp extends the invitation.

32

CALLUM

“What are you doing?”

Chloe’s hands cover her face, but where her cheeks bubble, I can tell she’s silently laughing.

I step into her space. “Henry?”

She opens her hands, hiding her face from my family as we walk to the table.

“I’m trying to remind myself that you are my boyfriend.” Then her eyes shoot to my dad.

Chloe called him Mr. Sullivan again, and he corrected her, asking her to call him Tripp. He’s young for a father of four. They had my eldest brother at twenty-one and me at twenty-nine.

“You’re ridiculous, Dais.”

“Yeah, because he’s ridiculously hot.”

I pinch her side, and she nudges me with her shoulder.

Audrey spins to face us. “Well, aren’t you two winning the cutest couple this year?”

“Did you know your dad is hot?” Chloe asks her.

“Ugh. Not you too. A friend of mine at school added his photo to a gallery wall of fit men in our dorm suite.” Audrey pretends to gag.

“That’s a genius idea.”

“What about my photo?”

Chloe makes a scale with her hands, pretending to weigh her options. “Pretty Boy or hot dad.”

Audrey pipes in, “Hot dad.” Then glances at me. “Sorry, Cal.” She’s not.

The three of us make it to the table and only four chairs are around it.

“The reservation is for four,” Mom confirms.

“We can ask to add a chair,” Dad says simply. He asks the host to bring us another chair. They let us know it’ll be a few minutes before they can get another chair.

From the way her brows try to furrow, I know Mom is trying not to let this annoy her.

Audrey and Dad sit. I pull out a chair—

“Oh, we should all wait till there is another chair. Chloe doesn’t need to hover, since there is no place for her.”

“What are you talking about?” She tilts her head. “I have a seat right here.” Her arm snakes around the back of my shoulders. My muscles flex under her hand as she lowers herself into my lap.

Across the table, Audrey’s hands press into her cheeks, a shit-eating grin trying not to take over her face. Dad is drinking from his water glass, ignoring us. Sienna’s eyes are fluttering with disbelief.

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