Page 144 of Rome: The Ballerina

“She’d better not be.”

A very familiar, very prominent baritone made the hairs on my neck stand. I straightened my spine and peered in the mirror, just over Royce’s shoulder.

Anticipating his presence.

Feeling it.

Admiring it.

Expecting it.

“Teddy–”

“You were born a star. This is lightweight.”

I nodded, watching as he obliterated the space between us. I slid from my chair and saved him the energy. The bouquet of pink roses stopped me in my tracks. They were beautiful. Just like the man holding them.

“Teddy,” I breathed out, standing on the tips of my toes and wrapping my arms around the eldest of my siblings.

My whole heart.

My lungs.

My liver.

My kidney.

My spleen.

My backbone.

My skin.

My eyes.

My arteries.

“Teddy,” I whispered against him, closing my eyes.

“I’m here, baby.”

“I know.”

“Break it up,” Roulette yelled from across the room. “You two act like you haven’t seen each other in ages.”

It felt like it.

“Rou, please.” Roaman sighed.

“Hater shit doesn’t look good on you, sis,” Royce told her.

“Anything looks good on me. That, I won’t let you lie about,” Roulette retorted with a head roll. “I do meananything.”

“Please don’t get her started,” Range pleaded.

“I second that motion,” Rugger added.

“Third,” Rather protested.

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