Page 27 of Vipers & Roses

He turns slowly around with a smirk on his face, and I want nothing more than to shoot that fucking nose off his fucken face to leave a big fucking bleeding hole that even Smiler would be proud of.

“Rae?” he says with a smirk as those vicious eyes become slits in his skull and run all over my body, forcing my fists to clench in angry bundles. He glances at his wristwatch and taps it with his finger. “You’re late.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I hiss, aware that my family is only a sheet of glass away, sitting at a table laden with delicious food.

“I was invited,” he answers, stepping toward me. I immediately feel threatened and step away.

“By who?” I ask, dumbfounded. Glancing at my family through the window, I wonder who he is connected to.

“Your brother, Max. We’re business partners,” he states slowly and deliberately.

“What? His landscaping business,” I gasp in horror. Max said he had a business partner, but I didn’t know it was this fucker. “How did you meet?”

“Back in Torres Island and caught up again about a year ago,” he explains, placing the corn on the tray and then winks at me, making my stomach turn. “Small world, huh?”

He walks out onto the deck, and my fury burns so deeply inside that I retreat to the bathroom and down the hall to take a breather before facing my family. How the hell did this happen? Of all the places to move to, The Pig moves by my family and collaborates with my brother. I’m scratching my head, wondering if this is a strategic setup or a pure coincidence. At least he’s not a cop anymore because killing a cop is on a different level from killing a citizen in the law, even a revered citizen such as Lyons.

While patting my face with cold water, I calm my beating heart with deep breaths to compose myself. I can do this. Just stay for a couple of hours, play nice, then leave. But, fuck, at least I’ve found some extra ammunition to use against the asshole.

A slight tap at the door pulls me out of my thundering head, and I call, “Busy.”

“Rae, it’s me,” a sweet little voice chimes.

I smile as love fills my heart. “Who’s me?” I tease.

“Ronan, your brother,” he explains, then lowers his voice so Max can’t hear, “your favorite brother.”

I tip my head back and laugh. “I’ll be out in a sec, Ro.”

“Okay, because I need to show you my new bike,” he states enthusiastically.

“Only if I can take a turn riding it,” I exclaim.

“It’s big enough for you,” he tells me. “It’s green.”

I swing the door open, and Rory falls into my arms in a bear hug. “Wow, you’ve grown,” I say as I rough up his soft hair with my hand, noticing that his head reaches the top of my shoulder.

“Because I made to eat vegetables,” he screws his face up. Oh yes, the old housewife’s tale is that kids must eat their vegetables to grow bigger.

“Hey,” I say as we walk towards the kitchen with my hand on his shoulder, “who’s that guy here?”

“You mean Gavin?” he asks.

I suppress a cringe before answering, “Yeah, why is he here on Dad’s birthday?”

He shrugs his narrow shoulders, “I don’t know. He just turned up to drop off some beer, and Max invited him to stay. Max has a new girlfriend.” It's a quick subject change, but I’m happy to go with the flow.

“Oh? Is she here?”

He nods. “All boring grownups.”

“Well…it’s a good thing I’m here,” I state, taking a deep breath when I spot my mom out on the deck smiling proudly at a woman my age, who I assume is Max’s girlfriend. I pause to stifle the pain at seeing Mom so familiar with this woman, patting her hand and laughing as if they’ve known each other for years. “We can’t have grownups cramping your style.”

Stepping out onto the deck into the warm breeze sailing off the ocean, there’s a raucous “She’s finally here!” before Mom and Dad rise to hug me. It looks like I wasn’t missed because someone else has taken my place at the table, bringing relief and grief. Max’s new GF can be the daughter my mom never had.

“Sorry, I’m late,” I announce and hand my dad his birthday present, the bottle of Famous Grouse Scottish whiskey, which he graciously accepts. Then I spot a half-empty bottle of the same whiskey brand on the table, and embarrassment floods my cheeks. “Oh, someone else got you the same brand.”

“That one is from me,” Max’s girlfriend answers, placing her hand on her chest. “And I’m Hannah, Max’s girlfriend.”

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