Until There Was You(82)

Jonathan huffed. “Posey, do you see what I have to put up with? I work all day, I come home, I expect my partner to listen to me, but no, I could be standing here on fire and he still wouldn’t notice.”

“Henry, say something nice to your honey,” Posey commanded.

“Jon, you’re the best,” Henry said.

“More, please,” Jon said haughtily.

“You’re a great dresser, our house is a showplace, the food you cook is fit for the gods. You’re so understanding and compassionate, and I thank God every day that we found each other,” Henry murmured, his eyes drifting back to his book.

“Wow,” Posey said, closing her mouth. “I never knew you had it in you, bro.”

“I wrote it down for him,” Jonathan explained with an affectionate cuff to Henry’s head. “So how’s Gretch the Wretch acting these days?” He refilled Posey’s wine glass. “Is she wild with jealousy that you’re bagging the hottest guy in town, present company excluded?”

“Jon, this is my sister,” Henry said. “Please, let’s not talk about her sex life.”

“What do you think we’ve been talking about for the past half hour?” Jonathan said. “Go back to the ripping and tearing.” He turned to Posey. “Is she?”

Posey took a sip of her wine, which, while indubitably much, much more expensive than her own swill, didn’t seem to taste much different. “She’s not, actually. She’s been pretty busy.”

Gretchen’s lack of interest was indeed kind of odd, especially after the way she’d acted that first day, tarting Posey up while channeling a Victoria’s Secret super-model. But since then, she’d been very nonchalant. Posey was often asleep when Gret came home, so their interaction was limited (mercifully). Maybe it was as simple as that.

“She’s a wolf,” Henry said, eyes back on his book. “Beware, Posey.”

“I concur,” Jon said. “By the way, please chaperone the prom with me, Posey. Himself here won’t do it.”

“It’s true, I won’t,” Henry murmured.

“Oh, Jon, no. Sorry, bud. It’s just not my thing.”

“Not her thing,” Henry echoed, eyes still on his book. “She had a very bad time at her prom.”

“So, tell me about it!” Jon asked. “Pig’s blood as you were crowned?”

“I wish,” Posey said, rolling her eyes. “My date dumped me for someone else. Not unheard of.”

“Some guy made fun of how skinny she was,” Henry supplied, still reading. “She probably only weighed about ninety pounds back then. He called her a bag of bones, said she was built like a ten-year-old boy—”

“Hey. Savant. We don’t need a trip down Memory Lane, okay?” she said, taking a healthy slug of wine. Brothers with perfect memories were so annoying.

“—and the mean girls made fun of her. She hid in the bathroom first, then walked, in the pouring rain, mind you, to a 7-11, whereupon she called her heroic older brother, who took her out for pancakes and covered to their parents.” He turned a page and continued reading. “Oh, look at this. A shark bit this guy’s arm half off, and the medic had to stitch up the artery right on the beach or the surfer would have bled out. Now that would’ve been a great day. I am never that lucky.”

Jon looked suitably horrified. “I don’t know which of those stories is worse,” he said. “Your prom or the shark bite.”

“The shark bite is worse, Jon,” Posey said.

Jon shook his head briskly. “Well, how about this? Come with me, and I’ll be a perfect date, and we can expunge the writing from the tomb or whatever. You’ll have a great time. Please. Please, Posey, please! It’ll be fun, I promise. Don’t make me go alone and fend off passes from the Latin teacher. She wants to convert me, whether to being straight or a Lutheran, I’m not sure.”

“Nah. Sorry.” She took a sip of wine.

“I signed you up already.”

“Unsign me.”

“I’ll cook for you. For a week.” He put on his best puppy-dog face.

Posey mulled it over. Now that she was with Liam, the prom of long ago didn’t seem so awful (overlooking the fact that he was sort of the cause of it). Jon was right. She could put those memories behind her. And have her brother-in-law cook for her. “Two weeks.”

“Done.”

“Can you make that chicken thingie? With the ham in it?”

Jon smiled. “It’s called chicken cordon bleu, pet, and of course I can! Latin Teacher, tu es non getting some from this g*y man. Who’s ready for dinner? And Henry, please pretend you noticed the centerpiece, okay?” He pointed to a lush arrangement of deep red peonies, curly twigs and ivy set in a gleaming silver bowl.

“It’s nice,” Henry said.

“Nice? Nice? I want a divorce. Sit, sit.”

But Jon’s words about Liam had made Posey squirm a little later that evening as she sat on the couch with Shilo and Jellybean, watching television. Jon was her best friend, after all, and a guy, and her brother-in-law, so he had the triple crown of truth going for him. Liam, while undeniably enjoying Posey’s company, seemed careful to…well, to keep a little distance. She had yet to be invited to his house, for example. And he only saw her when Nicole was otherwise occupied.