Bad Cruz

“We were perfectly civil.” I shot my childhood crush a look, daring her to defy me.

“Perfectly,” she said with a sweet smile.

“Well, I apologize if she caused you any…discomfort.” Trinity shifted in her seat, looking boring as white paint drying on a wall in her nun-like black dress. Had she always been this…yeah, come to think of it, she had.

Anger began slithering its way back into my system.

I didn’t like the way Tennessee’s family was bringing her down. Or the way she shrank like a wilting daisy, even with all of her hair and bright colors and red lipstick, when they spoke.

“No discomfort whatsoever.” I pinned Trinity with a dry, casual look.

Trinity visibly winced. “Of course. She is great. My favorite sister.” She laughed, resting her head on top of Tennessee’s shoulder. “My only sister, too.”

Hilarious.

Also, she should definitely not quit her day job, which she was at risk of losing anyway, because her boss—me—had her ass in a sling.

Tennessee stiffened, looking the other way.

“Everything went fine?” Now her dad asked her directly, like I was covering up for her. He seemed to be the type to repeat whatever his wife was saying.

Still. Tennessee was twenty-nine, for goodness’ sake. What kind of bullshit was that?

“Cruz already told you, it was fine,” Tennessee drawled in barely-contained anger, pushing her food around her plate with her fork.

I noticed she didn’t drink wine with all the adults. Rather, that she wasn’t offered wine in the first place by her family, or mine. Another telltale sign that in her family’s eyes, she was still the kid who’d messed up.

“Anyway, Dr. Costello, we are so sorry about the mix-up,” said Donna Turner.

“Tennessee already apologized. Several times, in fact.” I leaned in on my chair, my jaw ticking with irritation. “No need to make a big deal out of it.”

“That’s my Cruzy,” my mother cooed, resting a hand on my shoulder. “So wonderfully forgiving.”

This went on and on for the entire three-course meal.

The conversation seemed to go in circles:

Wyatt and Trinity’s wedding.

When was I going to finally get married to Gabby?

Messy Nessy would need to learn how to settle and give Tim Trapp a chance if she wanted to get married, even though he had a BO problem, two ex-wives, and a sinking business.

All throughout, the only thing I cared about was that the older Turner sister looked miserable. So, when everyone retired to their rooms (both Tennessee and I got our own separate bedrooms), I immediately made my way to her stateroom to check if she was okay.

I didn’t care if she didn’t want to see me. Someone had to show her they didn’t see her as a royal fuck-up—because she wasn’t. She was the best of the bunch of them.

I raised my fist to knock on her door just as it swung open and her mother came out. Donna Turner’s eyebrows arched in surprise.

“Dr. Costello! This is Nessy’s room. I’m guessing you are looking for Trinity and Wyatt’s room?”

“You’re guessing wrong.” I flashed my teeth in what I hoped was a smile. “I came to see Tennessee.”

“But…why?” She looked genuinely surprised.

“She seemed a little quiet over dinner. I wanted to make sure she was all right.”

I could spot my object of desire behind her mother’s shoulder, inside the room. She was hugging her arms and looking out the window. The room was pretty crappy. Not as spacious or new as mine.