Page 345 of The Lies We Play

She has Vienna on her hip.

“My favorite person is here,” I say, taking Vienna from my sister’s arms.

Vienna comes willingly because she has excellent taste, one tiny hand grabbing my tie and the other patting my face like she’s checking inventory.

“Hello to you, too,” Vesper says, rolling her eyes. Then she glances behind me, and her face softens so quickly my ribs hurt with it. “Hi. You must be Livia and Halston.”

Liv lifts a hand. “Hi. Yes. Livia. I mean, you know that. You just said it. That was confirmation, not introduction. I’m tired. Please don’t judge me by my first thirty seconds.”

Vesper smiles like she has already decided she loves her. “Oh, you’re absolutely ours.”

Liv blinks.

Halston’s hand shifts at her back.

Vesper steps forward and hugs Liv before Liv has time to turn into a formal handshake person, which she does under stress. Liv goes stiff for half a second, then folds into it. Not fully. Not carelessly. Enough that I see her eyes close once over Vesper’s shoulder.

“Welcome to the family,” Vesper says into her ear. “You don’t have to pass a test. You’re already in.”

Liv makes a sound that might be a laugh if it hadn’t broken on the way out. “That’s an alarming amount of trust.”

“We’re Lafontaines,” Vesper says, pulling back. “We specialize in alarming amounts of love and very little chill.”

Then she turns to Halston.

For one second, I see him brace.

Not much. Most people wouldn’t notice. I do. Liv does too. His posture goes perfectly, his face polite, the Saint Claire armor sliding into place because family has never arrived for him without terms.

Vesper notices.

She doesn’t make it a thing. She only steps in, wraps her arms around him, and says, “You too, Halston. Welcome home.”

His face changes against her hair.

His hands hover for one beat before he lets them rest lightly on her shoulders.

“Thank you,” he says, and his voice is too controlled for the moment.

Vesper squeezes him once before letting go. “Dinner is loud. Dad will feed you. Luther will pretend he’s not emotional. Sable will judge everyone’s shoes. Monty and Cally are probably still arguing with microphones somewhere because winning one game apparently requires a postgame dissertation.”

Then she turns to me.

“Dad’s in the kitchen. Luther brought Sable. Cal and Monty should be here soon.” She shrugs. “You know, the winning team stays a little longer after the game.”

“That’s why they won, wasn’t it?” I glare at her. “So you could rub it in.”

She grins. “They’re very good husbands. Of course, they were going to win the game for me.”

“See how your mother treats me,” I complain to Vienna.

Vienna says, “Buh.”

I nod. “She agrees.”

“She’s a baby,” Vesper says.

“She has good instincts.”