All Chapters of My Sister's Fiance: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

The mistake of letting Zach stay in my house lasted until nine P.M.I knew because the digital clock above the shelf read 9:03 when I clapped my hands and said, “Bedtime.”Two small heads immediately turned toward me.Max was lying flat on his back on the carpet with both legs draped across Zach’s thigh, though I had no idea when that had happened. Issa sat beside the LEGO project, moving one tower three centimeters to the left because apparently “the building has no posture.”Zach was still on the floor.The man owned a house. Several, actually. Yet tonight, he looked entirely too comfortable on my carpet in a wrinkled black T-shirt, his hair falling slightly over his forehead, while two small children treated him like public property.“No,” Max said.Issa didn’t even look up. “I’m not sleepy yet.”“You’ve been taking turns yawning for the last ten minutes.”“That wasn’t a yawn,” Issa said. “I was opening my mouth for oxygen.”“Our bodies need oxygen,” Max added in her defense. “That

“In the queen’s room,” Issa said.“Isabella Maria.”“What? Her bed is big.”“Go to sleep.”“But the story hasn’t had a wedding yet.”“There is no wedding.”Issa looked at Zach hopefully.Zach raised both hands. “I’m staying out of this part.”“Coward,” I muttered.His eyes returned to mine. “Do you want me to answer?”“No.”“Think carefully.”“I already did. The answer is still that I can kill you with a hardcover book.”Max started laughing, but it dissolved into another yawn.Issa pointed to the empty space beside her. “Uncle Shiny, sleep here.”Zach looked at me.I immediately shook my head. “No.”“Why?” Issa asked.“Because he’s sitting.”“He can lie down.”“That’s not an issue of physical ability.”Issa wrinkled her nose. “Mommy always makes simple things corporate.”“Corporate pays for this house.”“Uncle Shiny is corporate too.”“Worse.”Zach placed the book on the nightstand.Then, without looking rushed or asking for permission a second time, he lifted his legs onto the mattr

Slow.Warm.Lazy, like the morning belonged to him and I simply hadn’t gotten the memo yet.His mouth moved once against mine, as if testing whether I was going to slap him.I didn’t, because I was stupid.Or still half-asleep.Or because the hand at the back of my neck was too familiar, his body was still warm from sleep, and the rain outside made the room feel separate from the rest of the world.Pick the least humiliating excuse.He pulled back an inch.His eyes stayed on mine. “Good morning,” he said softly.I stared at him.Then grabbed his shirt and kissed him back.Only so he would stop looking like he’d won.His mouth immediately curved against mine.Second mistake.His hand tightened slightly at the back of my neck. His other arm pulled me closer by the waist until there was no space left between us. The kiss changed—still slow, but no longer polite. His mouth pressed deeper, his head tilted, and I hated that I knew exactly how to follow him without having to think.Five year

Max climbed down from his stool first, deliberately refusing to look at Issa. “I’m showering first because some people take forever in the bathroom.”Issa got down from the other side and lifted her chin. “I shower in my own bathroom, so I don’t care about the schedule of someone whose face takes up too much storage.”Max stopped.His back went rigid.I raised one finger before round two of the digital war could begin. “Upstairs. Shower. Uniforms. And if I hear one door slam, you’re going to school in your pajamas.”Issa looked down at her lavender pajamas and considered the threat for far too long.“My pajamas are cute.”“With house slippers.”Her expression changed immediately.“Cruel.”“Effective.”Max was already heading toward the stairs when Issa followed. They stayed two steps apart—far enough to protect their dignity, close enough that Max still caught the railing for her when she nearly tripped over the hem of her pajamas.Issa walked past him without saying thank you.But sh

I cleaned a kitchen that was already clean.There was no other reason for me to wipe the marble for the third time, unless the syrup spot I’d already removed had developed regenerative abilities and was waiting for me to let my guard down.The cloth moved left to right.Right to left.I flipped it over, then wiped the area beside the coffee machine, which no one had even used that morning.The oven clock read 8:04.My phone sat silent beside the sink.The window wasn’t offering any answers either.“THAT’S NOT FOOTBALL HAIR!” Max yelled from upstairs.“I TOLD YOU I DON’T KNOW WHAT FOOTBALL HAIR IS!” Bianna shouted back at almost the same volume.“I want it like Uncle Shiny’s!”“You have the head of a four-year-old, not a Nike endorsement!”“Auntie, don’t use too much gel. He already looks desperate.” Issa’s voice cut in, sharp and deeply offended.“I do not look desperate!”“You ask for athlete hair when you need a snack after running two laps.”“That’s because I’m growing!”I set down