Page 51 of No Rhyme or Roughing
He sighed. “I miss my brother.”
We used to be so close—us and Teddy, a trio. The last year had seen too much distance, and I’d hardly allowed myself to miss him. But I did.
“I know.” I sighed. “This sucks.”
“Thanksgiving is next week.”
“It is.”
“Sam and I are cooking a big meal. Some of the guys are coming. I want you to be there. Bring Sydney. Sam apparently really likes her, and I’d like to get to know her as an adult if she’s the woman my brother lo?—”
“I don’t.” Shit, I shouldn’t have said that. “Syd and I aren’t really… that kiss was for Sam’s benefit.”
A laugh burst out of him. “That’s pure gold, bro. Sam is convinced you’ll end up married soon after us.”
I coughed. “Um. No.”
“I’ve gotta say, I’m a little relieved. How weird would it be for you and little Sydy to end up together? Man, she used to idolize you.”
“And you.”
“No.” He shook his head. “We might be twins, but she always saw a difference in us. It was always you.”
“You really think it would be weird?”
He clapped me on the back. “I know she’s older now, but all I see when I look at her is that honest-to-a-fault, loud kid.”
The kind of traits she’d suppressed in herself.
He stood. “Anyway, I hope to see you at Thanksgiving. Dinner will be at six but come before that.”
“I’ll think about it.”
He held my gaze for a moment before nodding. There was a whistle on his lips as he walked to the door and disappeared.
Weird. I hated that word. When I looked at Sydney, I didn’t see any of that. Instead, I saw her quiet confidence as she danced, the way she tried to disappear when she didn’t.
Guardian squirmed in my arms, and I set him on the ground. Digging through the bag of toys, I found a teething bone, and he snatched it from my hand.
“You and I are so screwed, boy.” Because both of us were too far gone for Sydney Valentine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SYDNEY
“You sure you’ll be okay?” Teddy paced in front of me, hands on his hips, breathing heavily.
I sat on the couch, the puppy in my lap, trying not to laugh at him. “Positive.”
He stopped moving to look at me. “I’m serious, Syd. He eats at exactly six o’clock. Not five forty-five, not six fifteen.”
“Nine. Got it.”
“This is serious.” He scowled.
“Is it?” I cocked my head, biting back a smile.
“You are watching my child.”
