Page 101 of The Love You Fight For
“Chris,” she says when she sees me. “You made it.”
“Of course.” I smile. “Only a few more weeks of family dinner before there’s a new diaper to change. I’d rather skip those.”
She sneers in my direction and Michael laughs. I take a drink from my soda and stifle my grin. They know I’m kidding. I’ll be first in line to babysit the new baby. I can’t wait to hold him.
“Have you thought more about naming him Chris?” I ask, and Tiffany groans.
I’ve tried to get her to name all her kids after me. I even told her she could name the girls Gabriella since my middle name is Gabriel. She refuses. I open my mouth, and she throws a palm up.
“If you threaten to run away, I swear I will throw my shoe at you.”
I smirk. “Can you even reach your shoes right now?”
“Chris!” she shouts.
I laugh. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I was just kidding.”
“Where have you been?” my dad asks, and I fight against the way my shoulders want to tighten.
“What do you mean?” I ask with a shrug. “I’ve been here.”
“You were gone yesterday, and then today Tiffany said you texted that you’d be late. She thought you wouldn’t make it. Just wonderin’ what you’ve been up to.”
I pause for a moment. Briefly, I consider lying but then decide against it. If I want it to work in my favor, I have to meet it head-on.
“I was driving back from D.C.,” I say clearly. “I was visiting Sam.”
Tiffany whips her head toward me.
“Christopher, please tell me you haven’t gotten yourself tangled up with that family,” she snaps.
The authority and disappointment in her tone reduce me to about two feet tall, but I hold my big sister’s gaze as I speak.
“I’ve been seeing Sam,” I say, careful not to stumble over the words or let my own uncertainties show. Are we dating? Is it a relationship? The truth is, I don’t fucking know, so I stick to the facts. “We’ve been hanging out for a few months, and I’m very fond of her. I want to see where it goes.”
Tiffany’s jaw drops.
“You can’t be serious,” she says incredulously.
I nod. “I’m serious.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea, son?”
I glance at my dad. His eyebrows are scrunched and there’s nothing but concern on his face. I don’t see anger, not like I saw from Tiffany. He’s just worried for me, and that makes the tight bands of anxiety around my chest loosen a bit.
“I do, Dad. Trust me.”
Tiffany laughs. It’s sardonic and low, and it makes my stomach clench. She opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off calmly.
“I have an idea of what you’re about to say, Tiff, but I’m going to ask you not to. I know you don’t like the Harpers. I know youthink you know everything you need to know about Sam. I know you think I’m naïve and a hopeless romantic, and you don’t trust my judgment after Sable, and that’s fine. You can think those things. I won’t tell you what to think. But as your brother, I’m going to ask that you bite your tongue. Nothing you can say is going to change my opinion about Sam, so just don’t say anything.”
She shakes her head and purses her lips. Her eyes run over my face, no doubt noting the determination there. I don’t go against her often, but I will if I have to.
“She’s going to break your heart,” she says finally. “You can’t trust her.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
She scoffs.
