Page 66 of Roses in Summer

“He’s a human pincushion, B. But really, Dad, pull the needle out. Why is it still in his arm? Grey, do you need a doctor? Are you lightheaded? Mom, call an ambulance!”

“Calm down, vixen. I’m fine.” Greyson reaches for his arm and removes the pin stuck to his body. “Here.” He offers it to my dad, who looks weirdly perturbed by the movement.

“I needed that there; now I need to remeasure your arm.”

“He’s taking this seriously,” Lincoln murmurs behind me, speaking directly into my ear. “And if Ava thought Grey needed an ambulance from a fucking pin, I’m a little concerned.”

“Hey, she performs well under pressure.”

“True, and I’ve watched her wield a knife with her eyes closed.”

I shiver at the trick. “God, I hate when she does that. I actually hate cooking with Ava. Any time she tries to cook here, she and my mother nearly brawl because they’re both so hardheaded.” The 2020 COVID fresh versus canned tomato sauce debate was borderline bloody. I shiver at the memory.

I can’t see Lincoln, but I can feel his eyes on me and his body pressed behind mine. It shouldn’t surprise me that he doesn’t miss my involuntary shudder. “What has you shaking?”

“During lockdown, my mom and Ava got into a mini war over the merits of canned versus fresh tomatoes for sauce. My mom likes fresh but will use canned without issue. Ava was a bit of a snob about it.”

Lincoln’s snort has me turning my head to look at him. “That’s fucking rich, considering she and I had a blowout over fresh versus canned peas when she showed me how to make pasta e piselli.”

My eyes widen at his admission. “Why would she teach you how to make that?”

His gaze is heavy on my profile, and I fight the urge to look away. “Because it’s your favorite.”

“Lincoln—”

Ava’s voice breaks through the moment. “Dad, stop stabbing him. I’m going to put an end to Gregori Tailors if you keep this up.” I look back at my dad and Greyson and notice four more pins sticking out of Greyson’s arm and the pained grimace on his face.

It’s not difficult to surmise that the placement of the pins is intentional and deliberate.

“Remind me to never accept if your father offers to make me a suit.”

I laugh at the image that pops into my mind, replacing Greyson with Lincoln. “Noted.”

25

Seraphina

Dinner passed in a steady hum of conversation, the clinking of knives against porcelain, and a steady flow of wine. Through surreptitious glances at Lincoln, blatant stares at the weird energy floating between Olivia and my brother, who conveniently arrived thirty minutes after dinner had already started, and the omnipresent cabernet.

Lincoln’s eyes were on me the entire time. I felt them. I saw them. I wore his stare like a coat while eating minuscule bites of food and choking down water to ensure I wouldn’t get drunk.

As everyone starts to clear their plates, depositing them on the kitchen counter for the dishwasher, I stay seated, leaning back in my chair to watch the procession. Liv takes my cue and settles in the chair beside me, cradling her wineglass as though it’s a lifeline.

“What’s going on with you and Rafe?” I whisper, sipping from my glass.

Liv is silent for a beat, but I can feel her stiffen. Twisting the glass in her palms, she counters, “What’s going on with you and Lincoln?”

I scowl at her words, placing my glass down and picking up the bottle of water in front of me. Taking my time, I sip the cool liquid and let it trickle down my throat. “Doesn’t feel good, does it?”

“Shut up, Livvy.”

“What, you can dish it, but you can’t take it?”

“We’re not in a nineties movie,” I grumble, taking another drink of water.

“Let’s agree to drop it, yeah?” she whispers, bumping into my side at the same time Lincoln stands from the table, his eyes still on mine. “We’ll agree to debrief once we have some answers. Maybe in another four years from now?” I can’t help but laugh, a quiet amusement exploding from my mouth that seems to catch Lincoln’s attention and brings a smirk to his lips.

I keep my eyes on Linc as I whisper my response. “Deal.”

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