Page 95 of Royal Fling
“Relax. Goodness! I'm just trying to cheer you up and look! It worked,” he said, dusting himself off the ground and sitting back down.
I shook my head, huffing, and downed the beer in front of me. It was dark, it was smooth, and it was strong. Just what I needed right now. What I’d needed since I came back, actually.
“Still no news from him, I suppose?” Charlie asked.
“You know, there's no news, Charlie.”
“How the hell would I know? I don't live at home anymore, do I?” he said.
That was right. He had moved in with his fiancé at the edge of town living their happily ever after.
They'd only known each other for two months before they got engaged. And while I had been a bit critical of how fast their relationship had been moving, I got to know Adam a bit better and was sure he wastheone for my brother.
Whenever I saw them and how happy they were together, all my worries and guilt would resurface.
Had I made a mistake refusing August’s proposal?
Charlie and Adam were engaged after a very short time and were living in bliss. If it could work for them, maybe it’d work for us, too.
“No, of course there's no news. And it's better this way. If we're going to move on with our lives, we can't keep in touch; otherwise it's never gonna happen.”
He nodded, and I hated the sad smile that grazed his face.
“Anyway, I’m off. Fisayo is cooking dinner, and I don’t want to be late.”
“I still can’t believe Yaya surrendered her kitchen to your mom. And why the hell did no one invite me?”
I frowned at him and pushed my chair back.
“It’s your family home. Why would anyone need to invite you? You’re free to come as you please.”
“Can I tag along?” Rohan asked, all hopeful, also getting up.
I looked around us and raised an eyebrow.
“I thought you had a bar to run,” I said.
“I’d still like to be invited! Fisayo’s food is fucking awesome,” he huffed.
“Fisayo’s food is spicy,” Charlie pointed out.
As my brother had ulcerative colitis and a stoma bag to show for it, he had to avoid spice. Of course, that hadn’t stopped Fisayo adapting her recipes for those in the family who weren’t used to or couldn’t eat spicy food.
“Agh! You white people can’t appreciate good food,” Rohan muttered under his breath only to get a smack from Charlie.
“I’ll remember that next time we order Indian and you need, like, a gallon of water to survive the heat,” he said.
“Just because I need water doesn’t mean I can’t take it,” Rohan said, wiggling his eyebrows. “What did you think my mama raised me on?”
“You two, stop bickering. Let’s go, Charlie,” I said.
“Fine. Leave me here. I’ll be okay. Abandoned. Here. On my own.”
“See you later, Drama Queen,” I said, we jumped in Charlie’s car, and he drove us home.
As soon as we walked through the door, the aromas of Fisayo’s cooking hit me, and Charlie, wasting no time, ran over to the kitchen.
I walked into the living room and found Summer sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table doing the last of her summer homework.
