Page 58 of Snowed In
Her expression doesn’t change. “Are you snooping?”
“I— No,” I say because what else can you say? We both know I was snooping. I was obviously snooping. But the way she says it makes it sound like I was stealing her mother’s jewelry. “I was just—”
“Hannah!” Andrew yells before I can think of an excuse. “Someone’s here claiming to be your girlfriend? She’s way out of your league, though, so I’m not sure if I believe her.”
Hannah’s gaze flicks around the room before landing back on me, and then she turns without another word and disappears.
Well. That’s not good.
I scurry after her and find my way to the kitchen, a large, charmingly hectic room that is clearly the heart of the house. Every inch of space along the countertops is filled with food and utensils, and the sugary smell I caught earlier is revealed to be another tray of cookies cooling by the sink. Hannah’s gone straight to the table where she’s laying out bread for sandwiches while Molly and Andrew stand by the kettle, counting out mugs. They both look up when I come in, but my attention is on Christian, who’s chatting with who must be Hannah’s girlfriend, a young woman in a neon green puffer jacket with box braids down to her waist. At any other time, I’d try to get to know a fellow lover of bright colors, but I only smile apologetically at her as I steal Christian away.
“What’s wrong?” he asks when I pull him into the corner.
“Your sister doesn’t like me.”
His smile comes a beat too late.
“Oh my God.”
“Well, your brother doesn’t like me, so I think we’re even.”
“She caught me in your room.”
“Why were you in my—”
“I was snooping! Girlfriends are allowed to snoop. She looked at me like I was catfishing you.”
“Isaac used to teach her camogie,” he admits, and I almost groan.
“She hates me.”
“She doesn’t know you. It will be fine.”
“But—”
“And this must be Megan!”
I shut up as Christian’s mother, Colleen, enters the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. She’s about my height, with graying hair and laugh lines around her eyes.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” she continues.
“She hasn’t,” Christian says. “She’s just being polite.”
“Well, at least one of us is,” she says, eyeing me. “Has no one offered the girl a drink?”
“I’m making coffee,” Molly pipes up.
“And what about food? Are you hungry?”
“We’re making lunch to go,” Andrew says, as Hannah starts cutting thick slices of cheddar. “I’ve challenged your only daughter to a race to the death.”
“I’ll get your father to update the will,” she mutters. “Just get back before the weather turns. It’s supposed to get icy later.”
“Apparently, it’s going to snow this year,” Hannah says, as Molly holds up a carton of milk, shaking it at me.
“Just a splash,” I say, lingering awkwardly by Christian as she makes me a coffee, and I’m just thinking that there’s nothing worse than being the new girlfriend next to the almost-part-of-the-family girlfriend when I make the mistake of catching Hannah’s eye across the kitchen.
Nope. Sibling hate is much worse.
