Page 69 of Hot Momosa

Shanna gasped. “Now I’m concerned. How did you two not notice? What about the dogs? Did they bark?”

“We were distracted, and the dogs were locked in the bedroom.”

“Uh huh. Dare I ask what had you so distracted?” She laughed.

My father’s voice boomed through the expansive foyer. “Dahlia? Where’d you run off to?”

“I need to go.”

“I’d accuse you of trying to dodge my questions, if I hadn’t heard your dad. Call me later after you’re finished with your family.”

Funny, this doesn’t feel like my family anymore.

“Will do.” I hung up and stared at the Persian rugs on the polished hardwoods.

The staff had decked the mansion out for the holidays. While the evergreen garland, crystal ornaments, and huge silver bows were pretty, they felt cold. There were no colorful lights on the trees, only white. No whimsical or handmade ornaments, only ones that matched the monochromatic theme. No music, no cookies baking, no stockings.

While I hadn’t grown up in this house, we’d lived in similar places. Museums of junk that held no sentimental value. We’d never had candid family photos in mismatched frames. The Calhouns didn’t believe in spontaneity. We sat for portraits, and the end results were displayed in matching sterling silver. I wanted so much more for Gunnar—and for myself.

I missed the Marchionnis. It’d taken me a while to get used to everyone talking at once, and the brothers’ constant teasing, but now that I’d gone without it, I realized how much I loved being part of a huge family. I missed the warmth, the hugs, the food.

But most of all, I missed Leo.

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