Sweet Dandelion

I wait outside the apartment complex, too nervous to wait inside. I pace the walkway out front, eyes searching for Lachlan’s Acura to pull into the lot.

“I’m literally sweating,” I mutter to myself, wrinkling my nose in disgust at my wet pits. “That’s gross. Maybe I should change my shirt.”

I know if anyone’s watching me I look like a crazy person, or maybe like I’m on drugs, but I can’t bring myself to care because my brother is about to meet Lachlan. Lachlan is going to meet my brother. It’s like I’ve stepped into an alternate universe.

I know technically they’ve met before, but passing by on the street barely counts.

I spot Lachlan’s car, and cease my pacing, though I’m sure he’s already seen.

He pulls up in front of me and I reach for the door, hurrying inside. The sooner we get this over with the better.

“Nervous?” he asks with a chuckle as I slide the seatbelt across my body.

There’s no denying it. “You have no idea.”

He heads for the exit, his gaze flickering my way. “It’s going to be fine, Dani. I’m not sure about great, or even good, but it’ll be fine.”

“Fine,” I repeat. “I’m okay with fine.” Fine would mean no punches are thrown and no threats are made. “Will you pinky promise on it?”

He holds his pinky out, watching the stoplight leading out of my apartment complex. “Pinky promise.”

I seal the promise with my finger. “If it doesn’t go okay, it’s your fault now.”

He laughs, placing his hand on my leg. “I understand why you’re worried. I’m nervous too, but the sooner we do this the better.”

I hope he’s right.

The drive to the art museum takes thirty minutes since I now live on the opposite side of the city, but I wish it was longer. I’ve barely gotten myself under control when Lachlan parks his car.

We get out, heading across the street to where we’re supposed to meet out front by my favorite horse sculpture.

Lachlan faces me, rubbing my arms to try to soothe me. “Stop worrying, baby.” My body warms at the endearment. He tips my chin up with a finger. “I made a pinky promise, remember?”

“Yeah.” The single word is so low it’s barely audible, but he smiles so I know he heard me.

His lips press softly to my forehead and I inhale a shaky breath, trying to steady myself for the storm named Sage.

Sure, enough, my brother chooses now to show up.

“Hands off my sister, Lach-ness.”

“Lach-ness?” Lachlan mouths to me.

“I’ll explain later.”

Despite Sage’s barking orders, Lachlan doesn’t let me go. He holds my hand so we face my brother and Sasha head on.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Lachlan holds out his hand.

Sage glares at it and then up at Lachlan. “I’m not shaking your hand. You touched my sister with that hand when she was your fucking student.”

“Sage,” I hiss.

“He’s right,” Lachlan says, squeezing the hand of mine he holds, letting his other drop back to his side. “Look,” he addresses my brother, “I know I’ve done wrong, I won’t deny that, but I love your sister and I’ll do whatever it is you need me to do in order to prove I’m sincere.”

Sage makes a noise in the back of his throat and turns sharply on his heel, heading for the museum entrance. “A fucking art museum,” he grumbles like we can’t hear him, “only my sister would force me to meet her old man lover at an art museum. I miss the French douchebag.”

Sasha presses her lips together, trying not to laugh as the three of us follow after Sage.