Four Of A Kind - Chapter 167: [3.69] Traitors and Pragmatists

Chapter 167: [3.69] Traitors and Pragmatists

“Nothing. It’s just.” Vivienne picked up her napkin. “Father used to insist we wait until everyone was seated.”

The temperature in the room dropped about fifteen degrees.

Harlow’s smile faltered. Sabrina’s book closed with a soft sound. Cassidy’s jaw tightened. Even Iris, who never met the man, seemed to feel the weight of his absence settle over the table.

“Well,” Harlow said quietly. “We’re all here now.”

“We are.”

Vivienne unfolded her napkin with careful movements. The rest of us followed. It felt weirdly ceremonial for a random Friday dinner.

Then Harlow ruined the moment by immediately piling food onto her plate like she was preparing for winter hibernation.

“Harlow,” Vivienne said.

“What? I’m hungry.”

“Use the serving fork.”

“I am using the serving fork.”

“You’re stabbing the duck.”

“It’s already dead, Vivi.”

Iris giggled. The sound broke through whatever weird grief cloud was forming, and suddenly we were just people eating dinner instead of performing some kind of memorial service.

I served myself. The duck was perfect, crispy skin over tender meat that fell apart under my fork. The vegetables were roasted with herbs I couldn’t identify but definitely cost more than my monthly grocery budget used to be. Even the potatoes were arranged in some artistic tower situation that seemed excessive but tasted amazing.

“This is really good,” Iris said.

“Chef Laurent doesn’t do bad food,” Cassidy said around a mouthful. “Just pretentious food.”

“All food is pretentious to you,” Vivienne countered.

“Because you make me eat with seventeen different forks.”

“We have three forks tonight.”

“That’s fourteen too many.”

I ate and tried to fade into the background. Let the sisters do their thing while I refueled before someone inevitably needed something from me. But Iris had other plans.

“So,” my sister said, way too cheerfully. “Harlow showed me her cosplay workshop.”

“Did she.” I took a bite of duck. Chewed slowly. Prayed this conversation would go somewhere safe.

“She makes everything herself. The wigs, the props, even the foam armor pieces.” Iris turned to Harlow. “You said you’d show me how to make elf ears?”

“Yes!” Harlow bounced in her chair. “They’re so easy once you get the silicone ratio right. Last time I used too much catalyst and they melted under the lights but I fixed it for the next con and.”

“Harlow,” Vivienne interrupted. “Please don’t recruit Isaiah’s sister into your hobby.”

“Why not? She’s interested.”

“Because her brother will hold me personally responsible when she shows up to school in a full Sailor Moon costume.”

“That would be a look though,” Cassidy muttered.

Iris grinned. “I’d need the boots.”

“I have twelve pairs,” Harlow said immediately.

“Absolutely not,” I said.

All five girls looked at me like I’d declared war on fun itself.

“You can’t tell me what to wear,” Iris said.

“I literally can. I’m your legal guardian.”

“You’re eighteen.”

“Eighteen and responsible for keeping you alive.”

“I’m fourteen, not four.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Iris kicked me under the table. Not hard. Just enough to make her point. Harlow laughed so hard she nearly choked on her vegetables. Even Sabrina’s lips twitched, which counted as a standing ovation by her standards.

Vivienne sighed. The long-suffering kind that suggested she’d had this exact argument with her own sisters approximately eight hundred times.

“Harlow, if you give Iris magical girl boots, I’m confiscating your credit card.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Watch me.”

“Sabrina, tell her she can’t do that.”

Sabrina didn’t look up from cutting her duck into impossibly precise squares. “She can definitely do that.”

“Cass?”

Cassidy shrugged. “Don’t drag me into your wars.”

Harlow pouted. The kind that’s probably devastated men across three continents. “You’re all traitors.”

“We’re pragmatists,” Vivienne said. “There’s a difference.”

My phone buzzed. I ignored it. Probably Felix asking if I’d been murdered yet or Dr. Reyes following up on that meeting she demanded tomorrow morning.

“Isaiah.”

I looked up. Cassidy was watching me, her fork suspended halfway to her mouth.

“Your phone.”

“I know.”

“You’re not checking it.”

“Nope.”

Her eyes narrowed. The kind of look that meant she was reading me again. Counting tells. Building her case. “Bad news?”

“Old news.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the one you’re getting.”

Cassidy held my gaze for another three seconds, then went back to her food. But her shoulders stayed tight. She noticed something. Filed it away for later interrogation.

Troublesome.

Dinner continued. Harlow launched into a story about a wig disaster at a convention. Iris asked questions that made Harlow’s eyes light up. Sabrina ate in contemplative silence. Vivienne occasionally corrected someone’s posture or reminded Harlow to chew before speaking.

Cassidy kept glancing at me when she thought I wasn’t looking.

I was looking.

Mrs. Tanaka brought dessert, individual tarte tatins with vanilla ice cream melting over caramelized apples. The kind of dessert that should require a moment of silence before eating.

Harlow photographed hers from four different angles before taking a bite.

“It’s for the aesthetic,” she explained to Iris.

“Does food taste better when it’s pretty?”

“Obviously.”

Cassidy stole a bite off Harlow’s plate while she was distracted. Harlow shrieked. A brief fork battle ensued. Vivienne threatened to separate them like they were five years old. Sabrina continued eating like violence wasn’t happening three feet away.

Normal. Weirdly, impossibly normal.

I finished my dessert and leaned back in my chair, fuller than I’d been in weeks. The kind of full that makes you sleepy in a good way.

“Tired?” Sabrina asked.

“Always.”

“Accurate.”

Vivienne checked her watch. “It’s eight thirty. Iris should probably get settled before it gets too late.”

“Settled?” Iris looked at me. “Wait, where am I sleeping?”

Oh.

Right.

That.

“The guest suite in the east wing,” Vivienne said before I could answer. “Mrs. Tanaka prepared the room next to Isaiah’s.”

Iris’s eyes went wide. “Next to?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“No. No problem. Just.” My sister looked at me. Her expression clearly said we are definitely talking about this later. “That’s really nice of you. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”