Page 66 of The Killer Card

Graham nods, impressed. “It’s one-fifty, but who’s really counting.”

“Quite a bit too much to be impoverished. Let’s call you frugal,” I correct. “Childless, unmarried, mildly responsible.”

“Only mildly,” he agrees. He takes a sip of his beer. “Look at us having a civil conversation. High five?” I glower at him. “Your loss.”

I snort when he claps his own hand, reaching for my water again as I watch Cristian just barely dodge one of his aunts in an evasive maneuver away from his cousins. She shouts something at him in Spanish that sounds very much like a reprimand, and he expertly dribbles as he turns back to apologize with a shrug.

“How long has it been since Elias’ family has gotten together like this?”

“Shit,” Graham drags a hand through his hair. “Fifteen years? Maybe more? He tries to get up here every year if he can, but his schedule always made it hard. And then there was the issue of staying near Cristian.”

“I’m guessing Vivian never let Elias take Cristian to New York for a visit?”

“She might be the actual queen of hell,” Graham informs me solemnly.

I clink my glass against his in agreement, still watching Cristian play keep away with cousins he may well have just met for the first time. Granted, most of them are young kids. The ones closer to his age are much too well dressed to chase a professional fútbol player. I’m not even sure how Cristian is doing it in that suit. It must be some ridiculously expensive and breathable fabric for him to dodge like that.

An actual very loud laugh escapes me when he avoids all the children only for Rowan to stick his foot out and steal the ball right out from between his feet.

“Oyé! Qué buen quite, Rowan!” Graham calls as the bodyguard begins dribbling the ball expertly. “Cristian se hace el loco y se le olvida quién fue su maestro!”

I don’t know exactly what he said, but I got that the gist of it was that Cristian is too confident for his own good. The game turns into Rowan and Cristian bouncing the ball back and forth between them, never letting it touch the ground. One of the cousins joins in, then an uncle. Soon even Elias is balancing a beer in one hand while he passes the ball between his knees.

Nelly is smiling so hard I bet her cheeks freeze that way, which will be great for the pictures. I lose that very bet, however, the moment she looks my way. Then at Graham, then at me again and suddenly she’s making a beeline for us. Oh, God what the fuck is this about?

“Code Red,” I mutter under my breath.

Graham snorts but loses all humor when Nelly appears in front of us, still holding Elias’ great niece- her great niece now too I suppose- and glares from him to me back to him back to me as if we personally just lit her alter on fire.

“Were the two of you ever planning to tell me that you spent the better half of the last four years fucking each other senseless?!”

I blink.

The waiter blinks.

A much too close aunt gasps.

Graham looks suspiciously guilty.

Oh, fuck no. “You motherfucker,” I snarl at him.

“Hold on,” he holds up a finger. “In my defense, I did not tell her—”

“No, you probably told Elias! Which is worse!”

“How?!”

“Because he tells her fucking everything you gaping asshole! What the fuck, Graham!? Are you shitting my dick?!”

He winces. “I am shitting nobody’s dick, and Rowan and Clara already knew!”

“WHAT?!” Nelly gapes. “Clara KNEW?!”

“Oh shit…”

“CLARA?!”

Our little blonde friend turns our way and immediately knows we’re all very much in trouble by the scowl on Nelly’s face, the guilt on Graham’s, and the fury on mine.