Personal Relations

“Well, like, yeah. That’s how we know we’re getting married.”

“Did you give her a ring?”

“A ring?”

“An engagement ring, usually a diamond, which you’ll slip onto the fourth finger of her left hand. She’ll squeal happily, maybe even manage to squeeze out a tear or two, then race over to her girlfriends who will make all kinds of admiring noises while they mentally appraise the size and quality of the stone.”

“Uh, I don’t think Courtney is that kind of girl.”

“They’re all that kind of girl.”

“Courtney’s different.”

Chase stifled a sigh. “What does her family say?” Maybe they could form an alliance.

“Oh, her sister thinks we definitely should get married.”

“Would that be the hot sister?”

“I meant classy.” Jeff got that sappy look on his face again. “She can see how much in love we are and said we shouldn’t wait too long.”

Yeah, sounded like the sister had dollar signs in her eyes, too.

Great. Extricating his stepbrother from this mess was sounding more expensive all the time.

BROOKE DRANK her orange juice as she considered her next remark. “When’s the wedding?”

Courtney threw her a startled look, quickly masked. “Well…Valentine’s Day is coming up. It would be a shame to miss the opportunity.”

Brooke couldn’t stand it. This wasn’t a moment to be calm after all. “Two weeks? Are you crazy? You’re not even out of high school yet. And what about college? You’re just going to throw all that away?”

Courtney slammed down her spoon, sending droplets of milk over her sister’s sleeve. Brooke dabbed at them, knowing they’d be covered up by her suit jacket.

“Yes, let’s talk about college,” Courtney said. “I do not want to go to Texas, or A&M, or Texas Tech—”

“You don’t have to. I’ve been saving, too, so you can go to a private college if you want. You can go to Baylor, or George—”

“Or the Los Angeles School of Cinematic Arts?”

“No film school.”

Courtney sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Then I don’t see that I’m throwing away much.”

“How could you do this to Mom and Dad?”

“Oh, please, not that again.”

“Yes, that. They’ve worked hard so that you—”

“They wouldn’t have had to work so hard if it hadn’t been for you.”

The sisters stared at each other. Brooke couldn’t have spoken past the sudden lump in her throat even if she’d wanted to. Courtney suddenly couldn’t meet her eyes.

She might have even been going to apologize, except that there was a knock on the kitchen door. Leaping up, Courtney threw open the door to Jeff.

“Jeff,” she cooed and draped herself over him. “I’ve missed you sooo much.”

“I’ve missed you,” Jeff said, after he adjusted to Courtney’s deadweight and put his arms around her waist.

“I’ve missed you more.”

“I’ve missed you more.”

“Missed you more times infinity.” Courtney nuzzled against him, her lips inches from his.

Jeff moved even closer. “Missed you more times infinity plus one.”

“I missed you—”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Brooke took her bowl of cereal over to the sink and dumped the contents down the disposal. When she glanced over her shoulder she saw that Courtney and Jeff were alternately kissing and murmuring at each other.

Teenagers and their overactive hormones. Why wasn’t there a pill for that sort of thing? Surely some doctor somewhere was working on one. Brooke should contribute.

She turned on the disposal, counting on the noise to break the mood.

“Let me put on my lip gloss—it’ll just take a sec.” Courtney dug the little pot out of her backpack and stepped into the half bathroom off the kitchen.

Good. If she took the time to put on lip gloss, it meant she wasn’t planning on a makeout session on the way to school.

“Did Courtney tell you the news?” Jeff stood in the still-open doorway, grinning a little wolfishly in Brooke’s opinion. Grinning like a male who’d gotten free milk.

“Yes.” Brooke cleared away the rest of the dishes knowing that Courtney would race out of the house without even thinking about it. Another sign of immaturity.

“I was kinda hoping for a congratulations or something.”

“Forget it. She’s mad. I told you she would be.” Courtney dropped the lip gloss into the backpack and slung it over her shoulder.

“How did your parents take the news?” Brooke asked Jeff.

“I haven’t told them yet,” Jeff cheerfully admitted.

Brooke gave Courtney a look. “Before you start griping at me, see what his parents have to say.”

“My parents aren’t together anymore. I live with my stepbrother—well, technically my ex-stepbrother. But he’s all for us getting married.”

So you’ll be out from underfoot. Ex-stepbrother. The poor kid. Outrage mingled with Brooke’s frustration. “How old is your stepbrother?”

“Oh, he’s old. Thirty or thirty-one. He doesn’t like having a party on his birthdays, so it’s hard to keep track of them.”