Page 42 of Good Girl's Guide to Love
“Oh, I know who you are.” The male looks me up and down, trying to seem intimidating. Also, the stroller he was pushing doesn’t have a baby in it. Which is weird.
“Oh, save it,” Ainsley says. “Can we just all sit down and cool off? Also, why do you have an empty stroller? Where is my niece?”
“It’s part of my cover,” he says as we all take a seat. I pull out Ainsley’s chair for her, making sure she sits before I get into mine. I might not know how to be a boyfriend, but that just feels like bare minimum.
Once I focus back on the siblings I’m glad I did. Four pairs of eyes are staring at me, and they’re all giving me different looks.
The blonde, who looks about the same age as Ainsley, is just smiling.
The one not wearing black is shooting eye daggers at me.
The other sister wearing all black is sitting back in her chair, looking very casual. And I’m pretty sure she’s wagging her eyebrows.
And the guy? He’s still trying to look scary. I hate to tell him that he’s not.
“Quickly, let’s get this out of the way,” Ainsley says, “Linc, these are my siblings. That’s Stella; I don’t know why she’s smiling like that. Maeve is trying to decide which question shewants to ask first. Quinn is being inappropriate, and I apologize for her. And Simon? He’s not that tough.”
“Yes, I am!” he protests, leaning in closer to me. “Now, we have some questions for you, Mr. Kincaid.”
“Hold up,” Ainsley says. “Before we get into the interrogation, what are you idiots doing here? Also, do you know the definition of boundaries?”
“You didn’t answer us today,” Stella says. “We were worried.”
“So you decided to dress up as amateur ninjas and, what, use my location tracker to find out where I was?”
All four of them sit back with guilty looks on their faces.
“We just wanted to make sure you were all right,” Maeve says. “It’s not like you to go radio silent.”
“And we saw the pictures and videos,” Quinn says. “You were drinking and singing karaoke. And then there’s this guy, who, the last we heard you just met last week at the hospital and now is your boyfriend. You should have known we were going to come looking for you.”
Ainsley’s shoulders slump a little. “I’m sorry I didn’t respond. It’s just been….well, let’s just say today’s been a little crazy.”
I don’t know if this is the right thing to do, but I don’t think about it as I reach under the table for her hand. From the little bit I know of Ainsley, this girl does not like to be the center of attention. And yet here she is, with four interrogation lamps set on her. When she feels my hand connect with hers, she slowly turns to look at me. I watch as a little stress leaves her shoulders. She squeezes my hand back, but doesn’t let go.
“Guys! Look at them!” Stella croons. “They’re freaking adorable!”
Ainsley blushes and turns back to her siblings, but doesn’t let go of my hand. “I’m guessing you guys have questions.”
“Only a thousand,” Stella says.
“Can we just get rid of the elephant in the room and ask when the fuck did you two start dating and why did the internet find out before us?”
Oh shit…what’s our story?
I assume that if her siblings wouldn’t have shown up, we would’ve gotten around to figuring out our story that we’re telling everyone. But we didn’t yet, and judging by the ghostly white color painting Ainsley’s face, she’s not sure what to say.
“That’s my fault, so I’m sorry about that,” I say, giving our joined hands a squeeze, silently hoping to convey that I got this for her. “I don’t like to go public that I’m dating someone until it’s secure, you know? But, unfortunately, snooping cameras and Ainsley’s ex, had other plans.”
“Wait!” Maeve yells. “Why is Jonathan a part of this story?”
“I thought he lived in Texas!” Stella blurts out, looking alarmed.
Ainsley just nods. “He’s back. I didn’t know it until he showed up last night. He obviously didn’t know I was seeing someone, so he got a little close. That’s when Linc stepped in.”
“No wonder you drank,” Quinn says. “I’d be drunk too if my douchebag of an ex showed up out of nowhere.” The look Ainsley shoots her direction suggests Quinn might get drunk for a lot less. Got it—she’s the fun one.
“I prefer to call him Dipshit,” I add, which earns me a smile from Quinn.
