Page 140 of Heart Strings & Hotlines
In spite of myself, I laugh, knowing he spent all that time trying to find a heart emoji, and he did it for me.
I’m not sure where we go from here, but I pray that it can only be up, because I love him too.
* * *
The soundsof a busy house wake me. I swear Sebastian’s youngest child has elephant feet. They stomp down the stairs and then run in circles. The clattering of metal mixes with voices that are too far to understand but create a symphony of chaos that fills my chest with warmth.
Rolling over, I come nose-to-nose with a black cat and scream.
The thing places a paw over my mouth as though it’s shushing me.
“Lottie?” Rowan knocks on the door, and I mumble something that she takes as come in. “Lucky,” she scolds the cat, who sits perfectly still, staring at me as though it’s stealing all my secrets in the silence.
It’s unnerving.
“Sorry about that. Lucky, come on.” She leans down and attempts to lift the cat, but it jumps away and scurries out the open door. “Are you hungry? Sebastian’s making omelets.” She places some clean clothes on my bed. “Thought you might want to put on something that actually fits. Um…” She fiddles with the black-and-pink bracelets on her wrist. “Also, your brother’s downstairs.”
A groan rumbles in my chest at the same time my stomach growls.
“Fine. I’ll be down in a minute.”
Rowan hangs back as though she wants to say more but bites her lip and exits the room.
It’s for the best. I feel hungover from information overload anyway.
By the time I make it downstairs, the kitchen is full of people. Most of them I recognize through my brother’s best friend and business partner, Becker Hayes, but it’s still a lot more than I bargained for today.
Kids are everywhere. Literally everywhere. Leo, the owner of the camp where I held my first nanny event, is in the corner playing with Becker’s niece. Two women move about the kitchen as if it’s their own, while Rowan chats with my brother at the table.
They all move around each other in a perfectly choreographed cadence—they’re steps to a dance I never learned, and I clutch my chest to ease the sudden emptiness that lances my heart.
My brother, Elijah, lifts his head. His bright blue gaze that’s the same shade as mine scans me head to toe before he stands. He’s always been good at letting everything roll off his back, but right now, his mask is lowered.
There’s anger behind a layer of hurt in his eyes, and I know I caused it.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me that Dad’s suing you?” Great. He’s in full-on big-brother mode today.
But at least it pulls the sassy little sister gene to the surface, and I square my shoulders, ready to take him on. “I was handling it. I don’t need you to fight my battles, and I’d never ask you to.”
The screech of a sliding glass door fills the air around us as all of Rowan’s guests quietly filter outside with plates of food until Elijah and I are left alone.
“It’s not about fighting your battles, Lottie. It’s about being there to support you. It’s about fucking with Dad to show him he can’t do this shit anymore. I thought when I went into business with Becker to spite him, he’d learn his lesson, but obviously that’s not the case.”
“Come on, Eli. You know how Dad sees me and my role in the family. Women, like children, are meant to be seen, not heard. In his head, he owns everything that’s mine. I’m an asset to use at his discretion, no different from property or cattle.”
“But you know that’s not true.” He raises his voice, and I take a step back. My brother has never once raised his voice this way. “Jesus Christ, Lottie. I’ve been telling you for years that your value has nothing to do with the Sinclair name. Please tell me you know this?”
My hands fist on my hips. “Of course I do.”
“Then why didn’t you come to me? Why count on a stranger to help you when you know damn well I would gladly ruin Dad for the shit he’s done in the past, but fucking with you now? I’ll destroy everything he’s worked for.”
“Oh my God.” I shove him gently in the chest and follow my nose to the coffee pot. “What is wrong with all you alpha assholes? I can fight my own battles, Eli. I’m not that thirteen-year-old little girl you had to coax out of her room after Dad told her that acne made her ugly, so no one would come to her birthday party.”
“Why are you so damn stubborn? I want to help.”
Guilt is a dirty bastard sometimes. I know he’s frustrated. How the heck do I explain this to him?
After helping myself to a cup of coffee, I face him as my brother and not as the opposition.
