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“Hey guys,” Tori says, smiling widely at us the moment we walk in.
“Hey Tori, what are those?” Oz asks, pointing to the tray of cakes she’s carrying.
“These are mini Gâteau St. Honorés. It’s a pastry topped with choux buns and Chantilly cream.”
“Oh, yeah, can we have a couple of those and?—”
“Do you have any of the lemon macarons?” I interrupt, phantom tasting the sweet, tart filling in the crispy bites.
“Not today, but I do have mini lemon meringue tarts that you might like.”
I nod, and she smirks.
“A couple of those and then a few macarons too, please,” Oz orders.
“Are you okay?” Tori asks me, her eyes running over my face.
“We had unexpected visitors a couple of days ago, I’m just a bit stressed about them still being in town,” I tell her.
“My dad, her mom, and their kids showed up at our place on Monday. My dad was a fucking asshole, and we kicked them out,” Oz says succinctly.
“I take it they didn’t take the news that you guys got married too well?” she asks. “Were they upset that you did it without them?”
“My dad accused us of incest,” Oz snarls.
“He what?” she gasps. “But you’re not related.”
“He’s a fucking idiot. He knows we’re not actually siblings, but in his head, we’re all just one big happy family.”
“Oh, wow, I’m sorry. What did your mom say, Etta?”
“Nothing, she just stood there and said nothing,” I explain, feeling a fresh bout of nausea rush up my throat. Closing my eyes, I suck in a deep breath and try to push the queasiness back down again.
“Little One,” Oz says, concern lacing his voice as he runs his hands over my cheeks, then arms, like he’s searching for an injury.
“I’m fine. Thinking about what happened just makes me feel a little like I’m going to puke,” I confess.
“Fuck them. They don’t get an opinion on our life,” Oz growls against my ear.
“I’m so sorry, Etta. But Oz is right, fuck them. If they can’t support you, then you don’t need them. You’re surrounded by your found family here, so until they realize how stupid they’re being, you’ve got all of us,” Tori says.
“Thank you,” I say, tears filling my eyes and spilling over.
“Oh, my gosh, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” she gasps.
“It’s not you,” I promise, waving her away.
“Etta,” Oz growls, dragging me into his arms and pinning me to his chest like he can hold me tight enough to make everything right with the world, and maybe he can. Being in his arms immediately lessens the gut-clenching sadness I feel, and when I bury my face into his neck, his clean, soapy smell instantly lessens the nausea.
“I’m okay,” I say, trying to assure him, even as I cling to him.
“I fucking hate him more than I already did for upsetting you like this,” he snarls angrily. “Let’s go home.”
“No,” I protest, gently pushing myself backward until he loosens his hold on me enough for me to look up at him. “We need groceries. So let’s just go to the store, then we can go home and stay there until you have to go back to work in the morning.”
Inhaling sharply, Oz’s brows furrow as he looks down at me. “I think I’ll ask Buck about using some of my vacation time, I don’t want to leave for four days when you’re still this upset.”
“I’m fine,” I promise on a shaky exhale. “It’s just been a shitty few days, but I refuse to let Bruce get to me. Let’s buy food so you can feed me, then I want to get into bed and eat junk food while we binge-watch crappy movies.”
