Page 33 of The Arrangement

I huffed a laugh, surprising myself. “And if I tell him you told me that, you’ll kill me in my sleep.”

“My, you are such a good young man,” she said with a shit-eating grin as she patted my cheek.

The click of the back door opening drew both our attention. “Love you too, Orange Blossom. Yeah, I’ll tell her.” Marc finished closing the door and slid his phone into his pocket before looking up. I could pretend the red suffusing his cheeks was because he’d been outside, but we all knew what it really was. He walked over to the table, and Aunt Petunia went on as if nothing had happened.

“How’s Alex? Her presentation go well?”

“She knocked it outta the park. No surprise there,” he replied with a genuine, albeit small, grin. It didn’t take much to see how proud he was of his sister. Suddenly I wondered what she would think of me and what Marc would think of my siblings. Marc cleared his throat as he pulled out a chair and tentatively met my gaze. “Any chance we can forget about me being a total asshole back there?”

“That depends,” I said with a small smile of my own. As expected, he tensed.

“On?”

“On if you’re going to fill me in on what that ‘orange blossom’ business is about.” His burst of laughter was everything I’d hoped for, and Aunt Petunia smiled knowingly into her tea as she took a sip. “I take it this is a question that comes up a lot?”

He shared a look with his aunt, his eyes sparkling with happiness once again, and the tension in my chest finally eased. “You could say that. It all started because, as you already know, Aunt Petunia is named for a flower.” She held up her arms in a ta-da meets a what-can-you-do gesture, and I chuckled. “Naturally, Alex and Iinsistedon having flower names too.”

“But it’s not that easy,” Aunt Petunia cut in.

Marc rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Nothing ever is.”

“See, you have toearnyour flower name.”

Marc mouthed, “So unfair,” and I snickered.

“Hush, you,” Aunt Petunia chided, smacking him on the arm. “Anyway, that’s really the long and short of it. It took a whole season, but they eventually settled on their flower names, and they’ve been the same ever since.”

“Ah, I see. So if your sister’s is orange blossom, what’s yours?” I asked, officially dying of curiosity.

Aunt Petunia opened her mouth, presumably to answer, but Marc placed a hand on her arm, and an evil grin spread across his face. “Guess.”

I should have known better. After all, he’d already said it: nothing’s ever that easy.

Chapter 19

Marc

Istared at the wall of refined art pieces in a daze. I’d devoted so much mental and physical energy to getting the shop ready that I’d spared none for the more mundane aspects. Maybe I thought they’d fall into place? My aunt’s decorations had always felt so obvious, like they’d been part of the shop since its inception, but time had not been kind to them and they were admittedlyextremelyout of date. That I was still a little—a lot—preoccupied over my earlier atrocious behavior toward JD wasn’t helping matters either. Even after my selfish call with Alex, because Iknewshe had an important presentation, I was in my head about it.

A nudge on my arm moved my vacant gaze from the wall of overly complex art to the man at my side, and I fought back a sad sigh. I hadn’t lashed out like that inyears.Figures I’d do it to the very last person I would want to.

“Hey, you know we’re cool, right?” JD’s words were soft, quiet,kind.

“Yes?”

He raised an eyebrow. “That was super convincing.”

I huffed a laugh that gave way to my repressed sigh as I rested the side of my head against his shoulder. “It’s been a minute since I’ve…” God, this was mortifying to admit, especially to my literal fucking hero. “Since I’ve lost it like that.” JD’s firm hand gripped the back of my neck, his thumb digging into that one spot that seemed to force all of my muscles to relax. It was a comfort I desperately needed, and one I didn’t feel ‌I deserved.

“I get it. You don’t have to believe me, but I do. Sometimes the shit in our heads goes faster than we can get a handle on, almost as if it hijacks our body and boots us into the backseat. But you know what?”

“Hmm?” I hummed into his chest, greedily soaking up his warmth. Damn, he smelled good, like jasmine and cedarwood. Was it his cologne or justhim? His strong fingers scratched the base of my skull, and it took everything in me not to bury my face in the side of his neck and beg for more like a needy cat.

“If I’m not allowed to dwell on nearly fucking stabbing you mid-PTSD episode, then you’re not allowed to be in your head about lashing out. What do you say? Sound fair?”

I met his blue-green gaze and saw the sincerity there. “Okay, yeah. I guess that’s fair.” I offered a tentative smile that grew more confident when he returned it.

“Good, now can you please explain to me why you’re staring at a wall of curlicue shit that not even my great-great-grandmother would put in her house?”