The Wingman (Alpha Men 1)

“Lying by omission is just as bad.” The crazy situation just kept getting worse and worse.

“I’ll be there to watch your back, Daisy.”

“It’s my family, Mason. They’re the ones who watch my back.”

“Yeah? Seems to me they’re the reason you were driven to this course of action in the first place.”

That made her pause for thought.

“Maybe I should just avoid Sunday dinners for the next couple of weeks.”

“You can have dinner at mine. I’ll cook.”

“Oh my God.” He was missing the point entirely. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ward off the headache that was starting to build behind her eyes.

“Well, you’re going to need a reason for bailing on dinner with your family, aren’t you? So what’s it to be, dinner with your family with me as your wingman? Or dinner at mine, just the two of us. And the dogs, of course.”

This wasn’t quite the nightmare she’d been expecting. Dinner had gone off quite smoothly; it helped that her mother and Daff were still treading on eggshells around her, which had led to restrained and polite dinner conversation, even though she knew they were both dying to unleash a torrent of questions. Lia wasn’t at home, which had also helped a lot. After dinner, Mason and her father retreated to the comfortable living room for coffee, her father gently quizzing Mason about his combat experience along the way, and Daisy knew her reprieve was over. So much for watching her back; Mason and her father had kicked off a generational bromance from the very moment they had been reintroduced, and now they had both abandoned her to her mother and sister.

“For the record, I never thought you weren’t pretty enough,” her mother fired the first salvo without warning. “And while I always thought you could stand to lose a few pounds, it was because I was concerned about your health.”

Daff said nothing, merely shoved a stack of dirty dishes into Daisy’s hands for transport to the kitchen.

“I know you’ve always had my best interests at heart, Mother,” Daisy said as they walked to the kitchen, hoping her voice carried a suitable amount of contrition. “But it can be a little overwhelming . . . even smothering at times. I’m not Daff or Lia; the things that interest you guys don’t always interest me. You have them for stuff like shopping and makeup and . . . and that.”

Daff snorted, and Daisy shot her a glare, which her sister returned venomously. Okay, so apparently Daff was more than a little pissed off with her.

“I just get a little sick of always being compared with them. And coming up short.”

“You never come up short.”

“Except literally, of course,” Daff said snidely, and their mother gave her a quelling glance, which she returned defiantly for a second before returning to the task of loading the dishwasher.

“Daisy, I love you girls equally. And you all have your own wonderful individual strengths: Dahlia has that kind heart, Daffodil has her spirit, and you have wit and intelligence. None of those characteristics have anything to do with the way you look. What kind of mother would I be if I judged you on your looks?”

“Then why are you always going on about my hair and my weight and my makeup and my clothes and all of that?”

“Because, like the saying goes, I want you to be the best version of yourself you can be.”

“Yes, but . . .”

“I want to hear no more about this. You girls clean up the kitchen while I go and rescue Daisy’s charming friend from your father.”

Daisy waited until she was out of earshot before turning to Daff, who had stopped loading the dishwasher and was now leaning against the counter with her arms folded across her chest. Everything about her stance told Daisy that her sister was not happy.

“Let’s have it,” she invited wearily.

“I can’t believe you. You think you have it bad? Lia and I have been compared to you—and coming up lacking—all our lives. You’ve always been Daddy’s favorite. He does everything with you while he merely tolerates us. And Mom is constantly going on and on about how proud she is of you. You’re the doctor, the one with her own house, the independent, clever one, and you have the nerve to bitch about looks? Do you know how it feels to constantly be told that even though we’re not clever like you, at least we’re pretty? We’ve been made to feel like that’s literally all we have going for us, so of course the stuff you find so shallow is important to us. It’s all we have.”

Daisy could feel her jaw dropping, but she was helpless to do anything about it. She felt as if the whole world had been flipped upside down. After all these years of feeling completely lacking compared to her sisters, it was humbling to understand that they had experienced the same snide comments and felt the same insecurities and doubt that she did.