“Orion,” Mom calls, undoubtedly from the kitchen, “is that y’all?”
But before I can answer, Maverick comes barreling down the hall, his arms wide open. “Mama! O! You’re here!”
He slams into Frankie with the strength of a category five hurricane hitting the shore. She bends just in time to absorb his impact, allowing him to wrap his arms around her neck and his legs around her waist.
“I missed you so much, Mav.”
“I missed you, too, Mama.” He nuzzles his face into her neck. “But I had a lot of fun. We made a pie this morning and we’re gonna eat it after dinner. And I drew a bunch of pictures for you. And Pop-Pop let me help him do yard work!”
He pauses to inhale, and his eyes catch mine. “O!” he shouts on his exhale. “O! You’re here, too! Did you have fun? Did you miss me? What did you guys do?”
Frankie and I exchange knowing looks, both of us trying—and failing—to hide our smiles, because clearly, we can’t tell Maverick we spent the entire weekend fucking like bunnies.
“We went to Orion’s family’s lake house.”
“But what did you do?” He unwraps himself from around Frankie and reaches for me. I take him into my arms with zero hesitation.
“We… enjoyed nature.”
“And watched the water,” Frankie adds.
“Bet they even saw some birds and bees,” Stella adds from the doorway to the kitchen, her tone full of mirth.
I cut my eyes toward her over Maverick’s head and mouth the words shut the fuck up, which only makes her smile that much bigger.
“The house was quiet without y’all,” she says, lowering her eyes to the floor.
“Surprised you didn’t stay with Samson,” I murmur, still holding Maverick close.
“I did. Well, he stayed with me. Mostly to, um, help-me-pack-my-stuff.” Her words run together, but I still manage to hear them loud and clear.
“You’re moving out?” I ask, and Frankie gasps.
“It’s just, y’all are together now and I’m sure you want your own space, and—”
“You don’t have to explain anything,” Frankie cuts her off. “I just hate feeling like us being together is running you off.”
“I don’t feel like you’re running me off.” Stella joins us fully in the foyer, taking Frankie’s hands in hers. “I promise. And I’m so, so happy y’all are together. I couldn’t even begin to think of someone more perfect for my big brother. But y’all need privacy and time to really grow and connect as a family, especially with Maverick in the mix.”
“Are you sure?” Frankie asks, whereas I’m internally fist pumping.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my little sister, but the thought of having Frankie and Mav all to myself, like a real family, it just feels… right.
“A hundred percent. Plus, Samson has been after me to move in for a long time now. The timing is just right.”
“I’m happy for you, Smalls,” I say right as my mom steps into the foyer.
“Well, are y’all going to come eat or what?”
Maverick wriggles out of my hold and runs to my mom. “Eat! Let’s eat. It smells so yummy.”
He’s not wrong either—Mom’s roast is legendary.
“Mav, your pie was amazing,” Frankie coos, licking the tines of the fork clean.
He beams proudly. “Gigi showed me how to make it.”
“Well, maybe one day soon you can show me?”
“Yeah, ‘cause I’m pretty much an expert now.”
“Hey, Mama,” he says, suddenly serious, “I have a question.”
She looks at me nervously before giving him her undivided attention. “What’s up, bud?”
“If Stella’s moving out, does that mean I get my own room?”
Both Frankie and my mom’s eyes glass over, while my dad smirks.
“Oh, um, sure.” Frankie nods. “If-if that’s what you want.”
“Yeah! And I want red walls and a superhero bedding and a super soft rug and a desk and a lamp and—”
“Slow down, bud,” Frankie says, but she’s smiling now. “One step at a time.”
“Okay.” He takes a sip of his milk. “I have another question.”
“What?”
“Is O gonna move into your room?”
This time, my dad actually laughs out loud. I’m talking big, deep, knee-slapping belly laughs.
“Why… why would you ask that?” Frankie’s cheeks are atomic red.
“Well, Pop-Pop and Gigi share a room ‘cause they’re in love. And O said he loved you—”
“Oh my God!” Mom shouts, clutching her chest. “You love her? You really love her?” She turns to my dad. “Michael, he loves her. This calls for champagne!”
“Sit down, dear,” Dad says, stopping Mom from running to the kitchen. “You’re embarrassing Frankie.”
Mom’s eyes flit to Frankie and she bows her head before plopping back down into her seat.
“Well, are you?” Maverick asks, once everyone is calm again.
Frankie sends me a pleading look, clearly lost on how to handle this. Unfortunately, this isn’t something either of us thought about, and I’m not quite sure what to say either.
So, I do what my parents did to me when I was a kid—turn it around. “How would you feel about that, bud?”