Page 33 of Roses in Summer

I release a slow exhale, shifting and causing my black leather pants to rub against the seat’s leather. An awkward sound emits from my movement, and I shift again, throwing myself back and letting the squawks of leather on leather fill the cabin of the car.

I don’t have to look over at Bianca to know that she’s holding in her laughter—her body is physically shaking against mine from the restraint.

“Shut up,” I mumble, crossing my arms and resolving that this is going to be a shit show.

—

“Oh my god, you guys made it,” Ava screams, flinging open the door as we approach the front step of her townhouse. True to her decree to dress up, my sister is in a black tea-length dress with a plunging sweetheart neckline and a ruffle at the bottom of the skirt. The pencil dress hugs her curves, showing off her natural hourglass figure, while the platform ankle-strap heels give her five inches of height.

Compared to my outfit, a stained white tank, four-year-old leather pants, and black mules, she looks like the pinup-girl vixen Greyson always refers to her as, while I look like an extra in the 1996 movieFear.

Hugging my sister, I whisper, “You look incredible.”

Ava’s hold tightens, giving just enough pressure to squeeze my frame without cracking my back. “Thank you for being here, Ser. I wasn’t sure if you’d come.”

Biting down on my lip, I don’t respond to Ava’s comment and disentangle myself from her hold. As though she’s sensing my tension, Bianca wiggles between us, throwing her arms over Ava.

“God, you look like a hot pinup girl. Where the hell did you get these clothes?”

With a laugh, Ava grabs Bianca’s arms and moves them off her shoulders before ushering us inside the house. “I found a shop by the pier; they sell retro-style dresses, pretty much every decade you could imagine. Just wait until you see what CeCe is wearing.”

Ava leads us through the foyer and brings us into the kitchen, where CeCe and Dante mix drinks. If my sister is a roadmap of curves and goddess-like proportions, CeCe’s body is lean and muscular. Her emerald crochet sixties mod minidress shows off her toned legs and accentuates her fair skin and red hair. Standing next to each other, they look like stunning time travelers transported to a different decade.

Smiling at Cece and Dante, we trade hellos before I turn my attention back to my sisters. “Are Serena and Wolf coming?”

“They’re on their way. Wolf had a client run late, so they were heading here right from the shop,” CeCe’s voice breaks in behind me. “With Aubrey on maternity leave, Wolf somehow got Rena to help with the bookings while they wait for the temp agency to place a receptionist.”

“Is Serena okay with that? Doesn’t she have work?”

CeCe scoffs, rolling her eyes while she drapes a slender crochet-covered arm around my shoulders. “She’s running the show over there. I’m pretty sure Wolf is counting down the days that the agency will place someone so he can have his academic girlfriend back and not the drill sergeant she’s become.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad.”

Jumping, I whip my body around to see Wolf and Serena behind us, a smile on her face and a scowl on his.

Serena lets out a soft, lyrical chuckle at my words. “Sorry for startling you. It’s good to see you again, Seraphina.” Walking out of Wolf’s hold, Serena envelopes me in a warm hug. With her arms around me, she turns her head to CeCe. “And really, I’m not that bad. I’m just making sure that no one messes up Aubrey’s nomenclature of receipts and invoices, booking methodology, and tattoo pedagogy for apprentices.”

“I only understood about thirty percent of what she just said,” Dante mumbles beside CeCe, handing out the freshly made drinks while looking at Serena with confusion.

“Princess, you’re the worst. You made a customer cry last week.”

Releasing my body, Serena turns, facing Wolf with a delicate shrug. “I simply told her that coming for a tattoo on the heels of a breakup could lead to regret and trauma. I helped her move her appointment out and gave her a recommendation for a therapist.”

“Costing me money, princess.”

“You’re doing fine, Wolf. Anyway,” Serena pauses, turning back to me, “how are you doing? Are you excited to be a student at Marymount?”

“I’m well, and I guess? Mixed emotions, really. How is your job? Ava told me you’re working as a screenwriter on a period drama?”

“I love it, but don’t change the subject, Seraphina.” She steps closer, leaning her head in and lowering her voice to whisper. “I’m the queen of deflection, so I recognize it when I see it. How are you doing, really?”

Worry laces her voice, and I smile at her concern. “I’m okay. Promise.”

“Well, that’s good because you have quite the night ahead of you.”

Squinting at Serena, I tilt my head, confused by her words. “What do you mean?”

Serena whips her head toward my sister, eyeing her with a worried look. “Ava,” she groans out. “Please tell me you told your sisters where we’re going.”

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