Page 81 of Sweet Poison

“Oh, please, uncle!” I laugh, trying to act unbothered, but the heat in my cheeks gives me away.

I was not planning my future with the gorgeous grinch. I’m not even sure of what is happening between us or if there’s even a future.

“Right, right.” He leans closer, still scanning the pages. “So, is he worthy of all this hopeless devotion? Or are you just falling for his sunshine personality?” Sarcasm drips from his tone.

I roll my eyes and smirk. “He’s sweet, and?—”

“And?” He presses.

I look my uncle in the eye and say softly, “He makes me happy. I feel happy every single second I’m with him…” My voice trails off, a little embarrassed.

My uncle’s face shifts from playful to serious. “I know.”

“You know?” I ask, confused.

He nods, his smile softer now. “There’s this glow about you lately, baby girl. It’s the same glow your mother had when she and your father first got together. That’s love.” He visibly shudders as if the idea of love made him ill.

Love.

I know it’s love.

I’ve known it since we were kids. Time hasn’t changed that.

Uncle claps his hands, snapping me from my thoughts. “I can already picture your dad's reaction when he finds out his only daughter is in love.” He grins. “I have an idea.”

Un-oh.

Uncle’s spontaneous ideas usually end in disaster— or with dad threatening to dismember him.

“What idea?” I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“We have to send him a Christmas card,” he says with his usual dramatic flair. “A picture of you two at sunset, looking all cuddled up under those tropical mistletoes.”

I laugh at his antics. “I think I’ll pass,” I laugh when he feigns hurt.

As our laughter fades, a moment of silence settles in. Uncle Cianne leans back, his expression softening. “You know,” he begins, “I’m not surprised.”

I look up, confused. “You’re not?”

He nods thoughtfully, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I always knew that kid would go places. He was a smartass, angry little punk, but he had fire inside of him. That kind of fire can make or break a person, and it looks like it made a champion.”

I blink, surprised by his words. “You always knew?”

He nods again, more slowly this time, as if remembering something from the past. “Even your father saw it. He pretended he didn’t, of course, but we all saw it. Hell, the fucker used to sneak food and knives into that kid’s backpack.”

“Daddy did that?” I ask him, feeling a little shocked. I saw the way dad looked at Madden whenever we played together. He looked at him as if he weren’t worthy of his daughter—as if he didn’t like him.

Uncle nods. “Your father is a good man. A fucking territorial psycho, but a good man. So trust me, he’ll always be on your side, and he’ll accept whoever you choose to love.”

I didn’t even realize how much I needed to hear that until now. I hadn’t thought too much about what all this with Madden means, but hearing my uncle say those words about my father makes my heart feel lighter.

Just then, there’s a knock at the door, that pulls me from my thoughts. I get up, curious, and open it to find a stunning bouquet of wildflowers resting on the hall’s carpet. Their vibrant colors stand out against the neutral tones of the hallway, and I can’t help but smile.

Attached is a small note, and my heart skips as I read it:

Meet me in the garden. —Madden

I turn, flowers and note in hand, and find my uncle grinning from ear to ear. “Go meet your dark Romeo,” he teases. “I’ll be close by, keeping watch.”

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