The Truth

Maybe some siblings would have a rivalry or an expectation that the older sibling would get married first. But that’s never been the way Ace and I have operated. We help each other and support each other to the point of calling each other on our shit when the situation warrants it.

And let’s be real, I don’t have any real prospects, so walking down the aisle is not something I’ll be doing any time soon.

Under the table, as if he can sense my thoughts, Kevin licks my leg, and I look down at him. “Aw, thanks, mush face. I love you too, but human-dog marriages aren’t allowed,” I tell him in a sweet, high-pitched, baby-talk voice. “At least not in this state.”

Ace grabs his dog, covering his long, floppy ears. “That’s disgusting, Tiff. He’s your dog-nephew.”

I roll my eyes and huff. “I wasn’t serious, asshole.”

“Are you dating anyone?” Ace asks hesitantly, letting go of his hold on Kevin’s ears to scratch under his whiskered chin.

“No. I’ve been busy, and I haven’t found anyone who meets my requirements.” I check off invisible items on an imaginary list in the air. “Tall, check. Handsome, check. Established, check. Intelligent, check. Eight-inch-plus dick that’ll go all night, check.”

“You forgot bank account balance, corporate position, and most importantly, his name,” Ace whispers knowingly. “Because we both know who you’re talking about. The oh, so sexy He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.”

Yeah, I’ve got one of those no-name people too, but it’s for an entirely different reason.

I glare at Ace because he’s gone too far. He damn well knows that there is only one man on my to-do list, and he is unattainable in a myriad of ways we won’t even begin to discuss.

“Don’t make me avada kedavra you,” I threaten as I swish and flick a double dose of my red-painted middle fingers through the air, ending with a solid fuck you. A very Muggle magic wand, but it definitely works.

He grins as he brags, “At least I’ll die remembering the warmth of a good orgasm with another person.”

I huff in annoyance because he’s right, which means he wins this round. I haven’t had a non-self-induced orgasm in so long I’ve forgotten what they feel like. Hell, I’m beginning to think they don’t actually exist and were simply a figment of my admittedly skilled imagination.

Completely oblivious to our sibling jests, Harper comes back to the dining table, leaning into Ace’s side. Her arm wraps around his shoulders and his arm goes to her waist. “Hey, baby, dishes are done. You want to take Kev out for a walk?”

“Then dessert?” Ace asks, his hand dipping down to cup her ass, and Harper blushes. Their connection is palpable, and I suddenly feel as though I’m intruding on a private moment between them, third-wheel style.

“I think I’m going to head out, guys. Ace seems to have some plans for you that should not involve putting your face in those couch cushions,” I tell Harper with a crinkle of my face. “Dessert. Ugh.”

Harper gawks and pushes on Ace’s shoulder, as if it’s not obvious what we’re talking about. “Ace! What did you tell her?” To me, she says, “He’s talking out of his tooshie, whatever he was saying. I was just going to ask if you wanted another glass of adult juice.”

Her usage of random kid lingo is one of the things that always makes me smile. She’ll pop off with things like ‘luncheteria’ and ‘wear-unders’ that I have to stop and translate into grown-up language.

She points over her shoulder to the bottle on the spotless kitchen counter, giving credence to her claim, and I’m touched. Harper is many things—sweet, patient, and as bubbly as you would expect a kindergarten teacher to be, which is appropriate considering that’s exactly what she is. She is also a miracle worker, magically getting people, both big and little, to fall in line, and I’m no different. So usually, I’d politely accept another glass, but I think I should pass this time or Ace might start things with Harper while I’m still here.

“Thank you, really. But I need to call it done at one because I’m driving, and Cammie tends to go faster than she should if I’m not paying close attention.”

Cammie is the Camaro I inherited from Elle on a ‘long-term borrow’, a gearhead’s wet dream of an automotive beast that has more horsepower than anything I’d ever typically drive. Cammie’s one high-strung rock star bitch who wants to live fast and die in a blaze of glory to go on to rock ‘n’ roll heaven. It’s the driver’s responsibility to hold her back, something I do better than Elle ever did.

Harper leaves Ace’s side to give me a hug as I stand and head toward the door. “Thank you for coming over!” Her voice is full of excitement, like my mere presence was an actual gift. “You always make it fun!”