Page 64 of Wrong For Me

Will must be able to read the frustration in my expression, because he bites back a laugh as our eyes lock. “I think Rose is about to go nuclear on all of you.”

“She would never,” Cash says. “I’m her favorite uncle.”

“Lennon is my favorite uncle,” I grumble, and the other two gasp in outrage.

“She’s only saying that because he’s not here hassling her,” my dad says, coming up behind me. It’s true, of course. If Lennon was here, I’m sure he’d be bugging me just as much as these two.

“Give her a break, you guys,” Dad adds, squeezing my shoulders.

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” Cash says. “Like you haven’t been crying into your piano keys about her leaving for weeks.”

I don’t bother to hide my sigh. “Six days,” I repeat. “I’m going to be gone for six days.”

But I know there’s no sense in arguing. They’realwayslike this, and not just with me. Our fathers are completely overprotective with all the kids. Maybe that’s to be expected when a family spends as much time together as we do, but it’s still annoying as hell.

A huge factor in their deciding to start the label was the opportunity to be more settled, give us all a sense of stability after years of dragging us around on their tours. But even then, they all bought houses within blocks of each other in the same gated neighborhood. With so many of us attending the same schools, we were more likely than not to have a cousin in at least half our classes. I’m pretty sure I ate as many dinners at one of my Aunt’s kitchen tables as I did my own. Sleepovers were a pretty constant occurrence, to the point that no one even blinked at the appearance of someone else’s kid at breakfast in the morning. Instead of going off to science camp, or whatever, we spent most of our school breaks following our dads on the summer festival schedule, taking full-family vacations, or escaping to our secluded property in Tennessee.

When Will, River, and I announced we were going to be moving into our apartment, a mere fifteen minutes from the neighborhood, our fathers practically had strokes—and the siblings and cousins weren’t much happier with our absence from the family homes. You would have thought the three of us were moving to Alaska with the way these weirdos carried on.

Codependent is a pretty good description for our family, honestly.

“Are you hassling her?”

I turn to see my mom rejoining the group on the patio and I sigh in relief. She might be younger than all of them, and about a foot shorter, but if there’s anyone on earth the Ransome boys listen to, it’s my mother. Probably because they grew up with her ordering them around as the bossy kid next door, long before they were rich and famous musicians.

“We’re just expressing our belief that she’ll have a better time if she brings a cousin,” Cash says.

“Or two,” Reed interjects.

My mom rolls her eyes. “You know kids grow up at some point, right? Someday she’s going to get married and get a job and maybe even move to a different city.”

“Oh, Jesus,” my dad mutters, closing his eyes. “Don’t put ideas into her head.”

“Don’t get married, Rosie,” Cash adds. “Men are pigs.”

Reed nods. “You should just stay away from the entire gender.”

I glance at Eva, who’s clearly trying to hide her laughter in Will’s shoulder. “You see what I have to put up?” I ask my cousin’s girlfriend.

She flashes me a quick grin. “At least you know they love you?”

“Smother,” I tell her. “The word you’re looking for is smother. They smother me.”

The guys ignore us, clearly preoccupied with the marriage idea now that my mom brought it up. “You’re not going to be with any boys on this trip, are you?” my dad asks, forehead scrunched in concern.

“The school is giving you your own room, right?” Reed asks. “Because if they’re not, we can get someone at the label to book you a suite.”

“Or rent you your own villa” Cash says. “That might work better. I’d rather you avoid the hotel bar scene entirely. You never know how these washed up academic types will react to a pretty, young girl.”

“I’m not—” I begin, but Cash is already turning to talk to my dad, who seems pretty intrigued by the villa idea.

“It will give her more privacy,” Dad says to his brothers. Reed already has his phone out, like he’s ready to call a travel agent or something. “And then she could bring a few security—”

I throw my hands in the air, fed up with the lot of them. “I’m going to an academic conference! With my fifty-year-oldfemaleadvisor. I’m going to sit and listen to a few mind-numbingly boring panels with a bunch of stodgy psychologists, and then I’m going to come home.”

I don’t raise my voice very often, and the novelty of it has them actually shutting up for once. They might even look contrite.

But then, of course, my brother has to ruin it. Because that’s what little brothers do—at least it’s whatminedoes.