Get a Life, Chloe Brown (The Brown Sisters #1)(59)

Disaster had struck. The end days were nigh. She already wanted to sink into the floor. She jerked back from Red until his hands fell from her cheeks, but that did absolutely nothing to help the situation. The man who seemed to be attempting a no-strings-attached affair with her was about to be subjected to one of her bonkers family members. Because men loved to meet the relatives of the women they got off on public monuments. They loved that. It was well-known.

“Darling! It’s me!”

Chloe turned. “Yes, Aunt Mary. I know.”

“Don’t be so dour!” Aunt Mary beamed. “I’m thrilled to see you out and about, my darling, I’m absolutely thrilled.”

If it weren’t for the purple lipstick, the spiky heels, and the, er, volume, Chloe might think she was standing face-to-face with her mother. Mary was Joy Matalon-Brown’s twin, and also, possibly, the reason Chloe had been born. Chloe held a private theory that her parents had bonded over the surreal experience of growing up with a mother like Gigi and a sister like Mary. Her poor, ordinary dad and sensible, highly strung mum had been thrown together by a shared experience in stress and long-suffering sighs.

“I’m pleased to see you, too, Aunt Mary.” It wasn’t exactly a lie: Chloe loved to spend time with her aunt. In a controlled environment. Under very particular circumstances. “You look nice.”

Aunt Mary lifted one fuchsia-booted foot. “Imitation croc skin, darling. Aren’t they absolutely hideous?” She was beautiful, intelligent, a successful partner in the Matalon family law firm, and therefore took great pleasure in dressing however she wished.

“Very striking,” Chloe nodded.

“You’re a doll. Now, who is this, darling? He’s very quiet. I so adore quiet men.”

Oh, God. The twinkle in Aunt Mary’s hazel eyes did not bode well. Surely the last thing Red wanted was to face the full, inquisitive force of that twinkle and all that it threatened. What could she say to avoid it? He’s my friend? That sounded like a euphemism. He’s a man I love spending time with and also want to lick, and I’d like to care for him, but I don’t really dare? That sounded like an inappropriate and inconvenient truth.

“He’s no one,” Chloe said quickly.

Aunt Mary cocked one perfectly threaded eyebrow. “What an interesting name.”

This situation, Chloe realized with a spike of panic, was rapidly getting out of control.

She could feel Red beside her, slightly behind her, and usually that might be reassuring. But after what they’d done tonight, and how uncertain it made her feel, and how awkward this was—well, his presence didn’t seem quite as soothing as usual. She couldn’t even bear to look at him. Her frantic gaze wandered over Mary’s shoulder, where she spotted a gaggle of exuberant fifty-somethings teetering about in high heels. “Don’t let me hold you up, Aunty. Your friends are waiting.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. They’re so drunk, time has become an alien concept.” She raised her voice from foghorn to rushing train. “I’m talking about you, Sheila! You gin fiend!”

“Aunt Mary—”

“Sorry darling, sorry, back to your friend. Do introduce us.”

“He’s the superintendent of my building.” Chloe was running out of options. Hopefully the mention of her living arrangements would prove a solid distraction.

“Oh,” Aunt Mary said, wrinkling her nose. “Your little … look, darling, I completely understand wanting to leave the family home. I told your mother many a time that they were suffocating you. But really, this communal situation—”

“It’s a life experience,” Chloe interjected. “Anyway, so sorry, but we’re late for a building-type meeting, so we must dash.”

Aunt Mary looked suspicious. “A building-type … ?”

“It’s something you do,” Chloe said wisely, “when you live in flats.” Aunt Mary had lived in mini mansions her entire life, both in England and as an infant in Jamaica. Hopefully, she’d have not a clue what people did when they lived in flats.

“How awful,” she said faintly. “I’ll let you get on, my darling.” She leaned in to kiss Chloe’s cheek and whispered, “I do hope you’ve asked your new friend for test results. Your immune system is very weak, and accidents do happen no matter the precautions—”

“Aunt Mary!” Chloe snapped. “Go away!”

“I’m off! I’m going!”

As her aunt hurried back to her friends, Chloe eased out a sigh of relief. “Well. That was relatively painless.” She turned, finally, to Red.

His hands were in his pockets, his eyes fixed somewhere over her head. He nodded slowly.

She swallowed. “Sorry. Aunt Mary can be overwhelming.”

“That what that was?” he asked mildly. “You being overwhelmed?”

Chloe twisted her fingers in the material of his jacket, zipped up over her dress. She had this awful, doomed feeling in her stomach. This disturbing certainty that he was upset. But she’d done the right thing, keeping him at arm’s length there, protecting him from misunderstandings that would only embarrass them both. Hadn’t she? “Mary, she just, she gets overexcited about things, and I didn’t want to give her the wrong idea. She’s my mother’s twin. They tell each other … things.”