Kiss My Cupcake(41)

“She’s telling everyone he’s just a friend,” Glinda supplies.

“Because she doesn’t want Skylar to try to steal him,” Lawrence adds.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with Skylar.” Blaire tries to defend herself, but is interrupted by yet another woman.

“Care Blaire! Please tell me you brought your cupcakes! Gran-Gran has been asking about them all afternoon!”

“Hi, Aunt Nora. I certainly did.” And we go through another round of introductions.

I’m once again confused when Blaire’s aunt moves in beside her dad and pats his belly. I can see the physical resemblance between Nora and Glinda, which I’m assuming means they’re sisters. Either that or they are uncannily similar.

We’re ushered through a massive sitting room, and into the kitchen where everyone dons an apron and returns to whatever station they were at before we arrived. It smells amazing, and the kitchen is insane. It looks like a very high-end restaurant kitchen merged with more gaudy glitz and glamour. Now I need to know what restaurants they actually own, because I’m thinking they must be pretty damn successful if this is their pad.

The sound of mixing, stirring, and chopping is accompanied by orders being given, and in the middle of all of this they’re also trying to carry on an actual conversation. It’s impossible to follow.

Blaire opens a door and searches through the aprons hanging from a hook until she finds the one she wants. She hugs it to her chest before she pulls it over her head and reaches behind her to tie it.

“I can help with that.” I step up and brush her hands out of the way.

She jumps at the contact. “Oh, thanks.” She picks out a black apron and hands it to me, returning the favor. She slips her arm through mine, and tugs so I bend until her lips are at my ear. “I meant to tell you before you met them, but my mom is married to my uncle and my aunt is married to my dad.”

I turn my head to see whether she’s kidding, because that is some next-level fucked-up shit, but don’t take into account how close our faces are, so the end of my nose brushes hers.

“Ah ha!” Someone shouts, startling the hell out of us. “I knew it! You were kissing! Ronan is your date.”

Blaire drops my arm and takes one excessively large step away from me. “We weren’t kissing. I was bringing him up to speed on the family dynamic.”

Aunt Nora claps gleefully. “I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Then you need new glasses,” Blaire grumbles.

The accidental nose brush incites a ridiculous slew of questions, beginning with how long we’ve been secretly dating, how we met, and whether I’ve ever been incarcerated. In the very short time I’ve been here, I come to the conclusion that Blaire’s family is entertaining, but definitely a whole bag of WTF with a side of this reminds me of a bad reality show.

Another woman who looks to be a couple of years younger than Blaire glides into the room, a well-dressed man lagging behind her. Everyone looks like they’re ready to attend some kind of formal event, apart from her uncle in his Hugh Hefner getup and her dad in his pajama suit.

“Care Blaire! Yay!” She waves her arms in the air like the inflatable balloon guy while she shuffle-runs across the room in her extra high heels and throws her arms around Blaire. She’s at least four inches taller and looks like her last good meal was probably five years ago. I don’t understand how people who cook food that smells this delicious can be that thin. She does the same thing Blaire’s mother did and holds her at arm’s length. “This dress is so cute! Have you gained some weight?”

“At least thirty pounds,” Blaire deadpans. “Madeline, this is my friend Ronan. Ronan, this is my younger, more attractive and thinner sister, Madeline.”

“You can call me Maddy.” She giggles, gives me a simpering look, bats her lashes, and holds out her hand.

I shake it, because it’s rude not to, and bite my tongue, because all I want to do is defend Blaire and give her hell for not doing it herself when I know for a fact that she’s got bigger balls than most men I know.

A tall, somewhat wiry guy slings his arm over Maddy’s shoulder and extends his free hand. “I’m Matthew, Maddy’s husband.”

“Ronan.”

He’s still shaking my hand, but he’s not looking at me. His eyes are on Blaire, and the way he’s looking at her seems really inappropriate. “Ballsy move, bringing a date with Skylar on the rebound.”

She rolls her eyes. “Skylar is always on the rebound.”

Maddy chuckles and claps her hands together. “This is going to be so much fun!”

As if on cue, another very thin woman enters the kitchen, wearing a club-appropriate minidress and holding a half-empty martini glass. Her gaze hones in on Blaire and a slightly evil smile tips up the corner of her mouth.

“Care Blaire!” Her voice is high-pitched, like nails on a chalkboard. She saunters over, the sway of her hips highly exaggerated as she crosses the room. Instead of taking the most direct route to Blaire, which would be to go around Maddy, she slides her chest along Matthew’s bicep, gives me a very blatant once-over, and then air kisses Blaire’s cheeks. “Your dress is so cute! It makes your waist look so narrow!”

Sweet baby Jesus riding a skateboard down a freeway without a helmet, Blaire’s family is a bunch of assholes.