Copyright © 2023 Elyse Kelly
Peter gives me a
faux-offended look. “I’m just checking in on my dear little
brother! For all
we know, your Tracey—”
“Teddie,” I answer
before I can stop myself. I immediately regret opening my
mouth when Peter
gives me a mischievous grin.
“Right,” he
drawls. “Tawney—”
I suck on my
teeth. “Pete. Petey. Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater…”
He snorts and
raises an eyebrow. “I thought you were never going to call me that
again.”
“Well, you’re
intentionally goading me.”
His grin quirks up
at the sides. “I’d call it more of a test. You failed, by the way.”
“What? How could I
fail?” I blurt out before relaxing back into my seat. “I mean, I
don’t know what
you’re testing, but I’m good at taking tests. I’m quite intelligent.”
Peter shakes his
head in amusement. “And yet you fall for my tricks every time. I
can’t lie, though.
I rather enjoy it.”
I’m getting
annoyed that he’s beating around the bush. “What was the test?”
“Well, I thought
I’d check and see how you’re getting on with… Teddie.” I narrow
my eyes at him,
and he rolls his before adding, “Yeah, I knew her name. And the fact
that you corrected
me means you know it too.”
I lift an eyebrow.
“Of course, I know it. We’ve been together for five days,
fourteen hours,
and twenty-seven minutes. Give or take.”
“So, you’d say
your routine has been shaken up? And how does that make you
feel?”
“Don’t lose sight
of your qualifications, Peter. You’re a pencil pusher, not a
therapist.”
He shrugs. “My
plan is working. I don’t care what you say. You obviously like her
since you’ve felt
bothered enough to remember her name. She might be just what you
need.”
I grunt and lean
back in my chair, far enough to crack my back. “What I need is
peace and quiet.
What I need is time alone. But what I get is Teddie.”
“What do you
mean?” Peter cocks his head to the side like a dog trying to
understand his
owner’s gibberish.
“She’s everywhere,
all the time! Whenever I leave my room, she’s in the kitchen
baking cookies or
cakes or whatever the fuck she’s making for the day.”
Peter gives a low
whistle. “Sounds rough.”
I glare at him,
trying to think of other things I find annoying about Teddie. “She’s
always... humming
or singing.”
“Yikes. Can’t
carry a tune?”
I throw my hands
up. “No! Always on-key with perfect pitch, which makes it even
worse! She’s like
an angelic little songbird.”
Peter gives me a
sarcastic look through the screen. “Ah, yes, that must be
fucking horrible.”
“And she’s
practically sunshine in a sundress. I’m losing my goddamn mind.” I
run my fingers
through my hair as if to showcase the point. “I know this is all some sort
of cover, like she
has a nefarious plot to snuff me out before I can leave a bad review or
something.”
Peter shakes his
head at me. “Oh, my sweet, naïve little brother... You’re in a
mess—that’s for
sure. Let me tell you what’s actually going to happen.” He leans in
closer, so I mimic
his movements. “You’re going to fall in love with this woman and stay
in Christmas Key
forever.”
“It’s Candy Cane
Key,” I reply robotically before realizing what he said and
sputtering.
“That’s never going to happen!”
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