Page 59 of Take Two

Tazja watches me for a long moment, long enough that I feel slightly assessed. Then her expression softens into something quieter. “Big brother,” she says. “You are making this a hundred times more complicated than it needs to be.”

I don’t argue, because she’s right and I know it. The complication is mostly coming from the inside. From the comfortable, familiar bubble of careful avoidance that Cyaire and I have been floating around in since this whole thing started, warm and close and entirely unaddressed.

“If somebody matters to you, they matter to us.” She shrugs, completely unhurried, like she is explaining something that should be self-evident to anyone with a functioning brain. “Whether he’s an actor, a hockey player, or works a register at the grocery store down the street doesn’t change a single thing. If you trust him enough to bring him around this family, then he’s already family. That’s how this works.”

Something in my chest loosens at that. At the ease of it, the absence of conditions, the fact that she is extending him the same uncomplicated warmth she extends everyone she decides to care about before she even knows him.

“The whole family is looking forward to meeting him.”

I let out a surprised laugh, and it comes out more relieved than I intend. “I’m sure they are,” I say.

She gives me a look. “Jamie. The two of you have been all over social media for weeks. You didn’t genuinely think our cousins were sending those pictures around the family group chat for their health?”

I groan audibly and drag one hand across the back of my neck. “I didn’t even think about the group chat. I’ve been avoiding it entirely.”

“We haven’t been avoiding it,” she says, with great emphasis on the we. “It’s been gossip central. The whole family has been absolutely losing their minds.” She laughs. “Mama has already been asking what he likes to eat. I would bet money she’s already doubled the potato salad and made two extra peach cobblers just in case.”

I shake my head, laughing despite myself, because that is precisely and exactly what our mother does. Food is how she loves people, and she will not have a guest leave her table uncertain of that.

She smiles, then reaches over and gives my forearm a quiet squeeze.

“You want to know what I think?” she asks.

“What?”

“I think you’ve been letting all the complicated stuff get in the way of something that’s actually pretty simple when you strip it back.”

I meet her eyes but don’t say anything.

“If Cyaire makes you happy, then stop asking yourself whether he belongs at our family barbecue.” Another gentle squeeze. “He already does. You already answered the question the moment you thought to ask it.”

Marcus’s words drift back through everything. “Don’t make the decision for him.”

I pull my phone from my pocket.

“I should ask him,” I say, holding it up with a small shake.

Tazja rolls her eyes, but the smile that follows is entirely genuine. “Yeah, big brother. You really should.”

I laugh as I unlock the screen. “I’ll meet you inside.”

“Don’t take forever,” she says, already pulling the door open, already halfway back into the room that is going to become something entirely hers.

I watch the door close behind her before I drop my gaze to the phone in my hand. Cyaire’s name sits at the top of my messages, exactly where it has been landing most days lately.

Jamie: Hey, Blue. You busy?

The three dots appear almost immediately.

Cyaire: Depends.

I smile at the screen like an idiot.

Jamie: On?

Cyaire: Who’s asking?

I shake my head slowly, laughing at nothing.