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“Yeah, and by the looks of it, we’ve got a foot out there already.”
With a grunt, he nodded, and taking the bottle of whiskey from his wife, Ted poured Sinjin and himself a more than generous dose.
“Easy there, Mr. Keeler. I don’t need you to go sliding off a roof or anything.”
“No need to worry, dearie. We won’t be clearing any roofs just yet.”
Francie, looking wary, studied Sinjin, sipping on his whiskey-laced coffee, his arm around Breanna. “Have you spoken with Derek, Ian?”
“This morning.”
“Did he mention what his plans are?”
“He’ll be here Friday,” Sinjin answered, rubbing Breanna’s shoulder.
If that was supposed to be reassuring, it wasn’t. While grateful she didn’t have to face Derek alone, just the thought of having to be in the same room as him again made her body tense.
“For the weekend?”
He rested his ankle on his thigh with a shrug. “I guess so, but he didn’t say.”
“In that case, I’m going to call your mother. Invite her to come up for the weekend, too.” Clasping her hands together beneath her chin, Francie looked her way. “My sister can help with the Christmas decorations if we’re not finished by then. She’s an interior designer, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know that,” Breanna said.
“Oh, yes, Pamela had the Kimball Hotel account back in the day, and many others.” “She helped your grandmother with Dalton House, in fact.”
“It’s certainly beautiful.” Glancing over at a smirking Sinjin, he winked.
“What do you say, Ian?” Ted poured himself another shot and downed it. “Let’s get this done so I can go to bed. At the rate this shit’s piling up, we’re gonna have to do it again come morning.”
“All right, old man.” Getting up from the sofa, Sinjin kissed her cheek. “We won’t be too long.”
Her fingertips brushing the skin he just kissed, Breanna watched him go.
“He’s a liar, you know.” The corner of her mouth quirking up, Francie topped their coffee with some whiskey. “They’ll be out there a few hours, at least. Are you doing okay, dear? Any more headaches?”
“None, lately.” Putting on a polite smile, Breanna took a sip of the potent brew. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“That’s good. Jordy was asking.” She was quiet for a moment, her lips pursing back and forth. “You and Ian seem to be getting on rather well.”
Heat rushed to Breanna’s cheeks, and it wasn’t because of the whiskey.
“I’m not blind, dear.” Francie adjusted her horn-rimmed frames. “I love both of my nephews, but I have to say you and Ian are far better suited.”
That’s a no-brainer.
“Is that why you gave me the room next to his?”
“Maybe.” She shrugged, wearing a grin. “And your grandmother would’ve approved wholeheartedly.”
“She and Sin…Ian were close, weren’t they?”
“They were.” Francie smiled. “She adored him and he always looked out for her, especially after my brother Raymond passed.”
Nodding, Breanna chewed the corner of her lip. “All of you are more connected to her and this house than I am.”
Lying in bed, Hera sharing the warmth of the fire with her, Breanna stared into the flames. Sinjin wasn’t back yet, and without his steadfast presence, her mind wandered to places she’d rather not go. Thinking about all this fucked-up craziness made her head hurt.
