Page 41 of Please Open Me
Sera let out a snort that sounded more like a dying goose than a laugh. A sound only possible from someone who’d never developed a healthy sense of shame.
“Seriously?” she said, strutting toward him like she owned the floor. “I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.”
Lucian’s eyes narrowed.
“What? I like my men to look likemen. You’re too pretty.” She reached out to pinch his cheek, and he slapped her hand away like a bored sibling.
“I saw you touch him,” I said coldly.
More than once. And Lucian had touched her back. Sure, it was under the guise of pulling things out of her pockets or adjusting her smock, but it didn’t sit right with me. Maybe I was overreacting, but I was also observant.
“Because we’re friends,” Sera snapped. “haven’t you ever had one of those?”
“No. He hasn’t,” Lucian muttered. “Excuse my brother. Despite the big fucking brain, he’s socially stupid.”
I flipped them both off and opened my mouth to retaliate, but before I could speak, my phone buzzed and Cameron’s name lit up the screen.
You're out of cigarettes. Get more on your way home. And fast food. I want a burger. Mason wants fries.
My brow furrowed. I was 90% sure I’d cracked open a fresh carton this morning. And more importantly, Cameron and I had a deal: I stopped obsessing over every calorie I consumed, and he worked on cutting back the fast food.
I replied:You don’t eat fast food anymore, remember?
No response. Not immediately. So I took a breath and turned back toward Lucian.
Then the phone buzzed again. I instantly looked down to see Cam texted me again.
Mae ain’t doing well. Neither of us has eaten since this morning.
My chest tightened. Lucian and Sera were watching me like I was about to shift into a werewolf and rip the doors off the hinges.
I held up a finger. Not done here, but I had something more pressing.
Then another message popped up.
Please.
Fuck.
My jaw clenched so hard it felt like my molars were going to crack. I fired back a simple fine, then stormed over to Lucian, yanked his keys off the counter, and muttered, “Go fuck yourself.”
Was picking the kids up from daycare part of my job?
No.
Normally, Mason got bored around noon and picked them up herself, even though they were supposed to stay until five-ish. Lucian insisted the socialization was good for them. But I wasn’t going to make her drag herself out of bed today—especially not with Lucian’s Jeep packed like a clown car, with three car seats jammed in the back.
So I grabbed the kids after picking up the cigarettes and headed to get food.
Unsurprisingly, the twins—who’d had a snack less than an hour ago—were starving to death. Juniper dramatically informed me that she had never eaten in her life. Jasper solemnly agreed.
So I struck a deal: if they carried their own backpacks and brought the food inside themselves, I’d get them kids’ meals.
They agreed instantly.
Easy win.
But then I glanced at Rosie in her car seat—cheeks flushed pink, feet kicking, eyes full of unfiltered adoration for her siblings—and felt a pang of guilt for leaving her out.
