Chapter 3

During dinner,our conversation flows effortlessly. We talk about Ameline's current class load and her dream of going to college in New York. She mentions how her father and stepmother are insistent on her staying close to home. She could venture as far as Oregon with her sister, but not beyond.

It seems like there's a lack of communication between Ameline and her father. She loves art, but her father insists on her pursuing a career in law or medicine. Nothing else is considered worthwhile for a college degree. She hates the idea of having to do something she's not good at or passionate about, but her grades aren't exactly spectacular enough to get a scholarship.

As we walk back to the car after dinner, Ameline turns to me with a genuine smile. "Thank you for the food. You were right. I've never had hamburgers as good as those."

I smile back at her—somehow this was a lot more satisfying than anything else I could've planned today. Ameline Lewis isn't what I expected and is surprisingly cute. Not that I plan on dating her or hooking up with her, she's only seventeen.

But I wouldn't mind doing this often if she starts coming around more. And so, I wink at her and reply with a playful tone, "It's a well-kept secret. Next time you come around I'll bring you again." I hold the passenger door open for her. "Now, let's go get that ice cream."

She shakes her head. "I can't eat anymore."

"That's okay. We can buy a couple of pints and store them in the freezer for the weekend," I suggest, trying to make the weekend seem less daunting for her.

I can't imagine that any of my siblings would be happy if I just dropped them at my apartment alone with only twenty dollars. We don't have a television in the living room, and I know Cedric doesn't have one in his room. I could lend her books, but does she read? That's a topic for another day.

"You don't have to entertain me," she states before I close the door of the car.

When I slide into the driver's seat, I flash her a reassuring grin. "I'm what people like to call a homebody. I usually stick around to study and do some work for my father. I'm not doing this for you."

She gives me a curious look. "What kind of work?"

As I start the car, I give her a playful wink. "Stick around long enough, and you'll find out."

"Now I'm intrigued." Her eyes crinkle with amusement.

* * *

As I pullinto a parking spot just outside the ice cream parlor, the warm glow of its lights floods the car's interior.

Ameline gazes out at the cozy shop. "Is this another secret place?"

I chuckle as I turn off the ignition. "Not so secret. But they have really good ice cream," I reply, looking over at the families and couples visible through the parlor's large windows. "Ever since I can remember, my parents would either bring us here or stash pints in the freezer."

She follows my gaze, her expression softening as she takes in the sight of the bustling parlor. "You could say this is like a family tradition."

Nodding, I unbuckle my seat belt and reach for the car door handle. "Yep. That, or Mom's just sharing her one and only obsession in the entire world: ice cream. She and Aunt Maeve used to sneak ice cream into her room and watch movies."

"I wish I had something like that with Izzy," she says staring into the shop, but I'm pretty sure she's lost in thought. "We don't have anything in common or a tradition we do together. Cedric and I . . . Well, he has to deal with me because I'm his little sister and it's his duty to look after me."

As I step out of the car, the sweet, inviting aroma of chocolate and waffle cones drifts toward us. I take a moment to consider what she just shared but almost immediately she adds, "It would be nice if I knew what Mom likes."

There's a pause as we close the car doors and start walking toward the entrance. "You don't get along with her?" I ask, my tone gentle, conscious of how divorces can be painful.

She shakes her head, her face not giving anything away. "Nope. After the divorce, we never saw her again."

"Sorry," is all I can say.

"It's okay. I was six, and . . . It was a long time ago. I barely remember her," she says. There's a detachment in her voice, but the pain is crystal clear.

"And you don't get along with your stepmother?"

"Helen is like all the others: temporary," Ameline states. "I don't see why I should get along with her. In a few years, she'll just be a bitter memory, and someone else will come along to take her place."

I'm speechless at that statement. It's like she's talking about a seasonal employee, and somehow I feel like she's avoiding getting attached because everyone leaves. Or maybe I'm just reading too much into this and her stepmother is truly wicked, and she's hoping she'll leave. Should I dig deeper? Probably not. I just push the door open and watch her as she admires the place and gawks at the menu.

"I don't think I plan on leaving this place anytime soon."

Despite claiming she wouldn't eat ice cream earlier, Ameline ends up ordering a scoop of cinnamon toast ice cream in a basket, covered with a chocolate hard-shell and sprinkles. As we stroll around the block, savoring our ice creams, I share stories about my six siblings. Her eyes light up with curiosity and amusement when I tell her about how my twin brother and our youngest sibling, who just turned six, are so similar.

When we arrive back at my place, Cedric is nowhere in sight, but Johnathan, our other roommate, is there with his girlfriend. They're making out on the couch, probably ready to fuck, or just getting ready to film a movie for Pornhub.

Their lack of regard for anyone else's presence is, as always, evident, so I quickly guide Ameline to my studio. I have plenty of things to do. Hopefully, he'll be done in a couple of hours. Listen, I'm not a prude, but I wish he would just go to his room when he's fucking his girlfriend.

"I can stay in Cee's room," Ameline suggests.

I shake my head, a wry smile crossing my lips. "Not really. You'll want to stay far away from that couch—they're very vocal."

Her nose scrunches. "But he has roommates."

"Yep, and they don't care. It's like watching a live porn show," I add.

"And this room will keep them away?" she asks skeptically.

I nod, locking the door and walking over to the sound equipment. "It's soundproofed. Trust me, your ears will stay pure and innocent."

"Who told you I'm a virgin?" she retorts playfully, a hint of mischief in her tone.

I shake my head and choose not to take the bait. Her teasing reminds me of the women in my family who love to taunt and tease the fuck out of all the Decker men. We're too easy to torment. I won't fall for it.

"You're welcome to play video games or go through the bookshelf. There's a book for everyone," I say, repeating Piper's words. My cousin is the one who made sure I had enough things to do in case anyone had to hang out with me. Not like that happens often.

Piper makes it sound like torture when she has to come here. But the few times she's visited, she actually helps me edit music or just plays one of the instruments I have while I'm working. Hmm . . . maybe I'm finally getting the chance to put it to good use. Who knew?