Page 66 of Lips On My Soul

“Jo,” she replies.

My heart does a little dance. Has she come here to apologize to me in person? Are we finally going to be able to bury the hatch and be sisters again?

Maceo lowers his gun and looks at me. “Simone? As in your sister?”

“The one and only,” Simone answers before addressing me. “Are you going to call off your Neanderthals and let me in?”

“Who you calling Neanderthal, Miss Priss?” Punk asks angrily.

Chase gives Punk a warning look. “Enough, Punk.”

“I guess Neanderthal isn’t the correct terminology. I meant moron,” Simone goads.

Punk fires back without pause. “Moron! I’m no moron, your Royal Bitchness!”

“Alright! Enough, both of you. Punk go stand in the corner and think about what you did.”

Punk protests, flabbergasted. “Me? Why do I get the timeout?”

“Because you initiated the fight!” I look at all four of them. “You all handled this poorly and need a timeout. Shame on you.”

I grab Simone by the crook of her elbow and pull her away from the house a good twenty feet. “What the hell are you doing, egging them on?”

“Me?!” she asks shrilly. “What aboutthem? I drove over sixteen hours and I’m greeted at the door by one guy drooling over me, another one pulling a gun on me with backup, and another one calling me a priss!”

“Jesus, Simone. Calm the fuck down!” I chide. “I’m not saying I’d behave any better. You have every reason to be upset, but you don’t do yourself any favors by sinking to their level.”

Simone raises an eyebrow. “You agree with me?”

I’m about to answer yes when Maceo answers from behind me. “Yes, but she would have been a hell of a lot meaner. I should know. Our first introduction was an epic fail—well, the first half was, but the second half—” Maceo looks at me and gives me a mischievous smile “—was heaven.”

I give my fiancé a pointed look. “I told you to take a timeout. Why are you not facing a wall?”

Maceo throws his head back, laughing. “You were serious? That’s adorable.”

I grab my head, exasperated. “Go away. I’m talking to my sister.”

“But I want to meet her,” he says, coming closer.

Simone’s eyes go wide with alarm as she takes in Maceo’s massive form—her eyes home in on the pistol tucked in his waistband. “Jo?!”

“It’s okay,” I reassure her before turning to my fiancé. “Maceo, back up. You’re scaring my sister.”

Simone’s face goes steely. “Maceo? This is the lowlife you’re marrying, who convinced mom and dad you were preggers and to move out here to Timbuktu?”

I raise a hand to my sister. “Now wait a minute. Maceo is not a lowlife—he’s the president of a security firm and motorcycle club. Don’t bad mouth my future husband when you don’t know anything about him. He never told mom and dad I was pregnant. They concocted that harebrained idea all on their own. We never asked mom to quit her job or for the two of them to move here. They made all those rash decisions before I talked to them. Go ahead and be pissed, but direct it where it’s deserved.”

Simone flips her hair over her shoulder. “He told them you were getting married quickly because you wanted to give them—and I quote—‘grandbabies.’ How the fuck else were they supposed to interpret it?”

“Ladies,” Maceo tries to placate. “Maybe we should all take a deep breath and calm down.”

“Shut up!” we both shout at him.

He raises his hands in surrender. “Okay. I’ll stay out of it. But you two are sisters.” He grabs my arm gently and turns me to him. “Baby, don’t fight, please.”

I understand why this is distressing for him, seeing as he was an only-child and orphaned to his grandma. Family is a precious miracle to him—he doesn’t understand the dynamic of my relationship with my sister.

I take his hands in mine. “Maceo, it’s okay. Simone and I need to hash shit out.”

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