For the Love of Donuts

8. Lips Don’t Lie

Skye

“Aunt Skye and Ta-um are here!” Nova exclaims, bursting into the dining room like a category five hurricane. She then gasps before running back into the living room. “Lanie, they bringed donuts!”

“ Brought ,” I hear Trey correct her as Lanie also gasps. “It’s brought , sweetie.”

“How many?” Lanie asks Nova, kicking off her shoes from the sounds of it. “Lots?”

“Girls!” Dria calls in their direction. “Clean up time needs to come before donuts. Right , Daddy?”

“ Right , Mommy,” Trey agrees, not missing a beat. “Plus, you two need to wash your hands since you were petting Mrs. Gentry’s dog.”

“Ta-um!” Lanie hollers from the living room.

“Can you pease watch us wash our handssss?!” Nova finishes, totally nailing the pouty tone.

“Yeah, I’m coming!” Tatum answers with a laugh, strolling out of the dining room. “So, you guys got to pet a dog?”

As you can see, the admiration between the twins and Tatum is absolutely mutual.

Not to mention adorable.

“It was a BIG dog,” Nova begins to describe the dog for Tatum. “Like bigger than Lanie AND me!”

“And it was fluffy!” Lanie chimes in as their voices start to fade out. “Like our stuffed animals!”

Dria scoops her dark brown waves into a high ponytail, which always makes her look at least three years younger, and then smirks at me. “How much you want to bet they’ll talk him into helping them clean up their toys?”

I don’t bother holding back a snort. “I’m sure they’re discussing it right now.”

“Skye,” Trey says, opening their refrigerator door, “please tell me you brought one of my favorite donuts?”

Dria glances over her shoulder at him. “What happened to your low sugar intake plan, babe?”

I raise an eyebrow at that. “New thing?”

“It won’t last,” she whispers to me, “he still has a candy stash in his nightstand drawer.”

“I’m starting that next week, sweetheart,” Trey drawls, pouring himself a glass of milk. “Besides, I’ve been hitting the gym more lately; I think that deserves a donut or two.”

Dria rolls her eyes and mouths: He’s full of it.

“Mommy!” Nova hollers. “Ta-um is going to help us clean up and then we can ’ave donuts?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dria answers as Trey snakes the donut box away from her and takes it with him to the other side of the table. “But Tatum isn’t the one who made the mess, so you and Lanie need to clean up the most, okay?”

“Yeah, ’kay, Mommy! We are! Ta-um says we’re doing a good job!”

“They probably should have lunch first,” Dria muses, finishing off her donut, “but they had a late breakfast and it’s the weekend. I’ll let it slide. Do you and Tatum want anything for lunch though? There’s leftover turkey zucchini casserole that I can heat up.” Before I can even reply, she stands up. “I’m going to heat some up for y’all.”

Typical Dria, and I love her for it.

“Thanks for the donuts, Skye,” Trey mumbles around his S’mores Galore. “They’re perfect as always.”

“No prob, Trey.” I slip out of my seat so I can join Dria in the kitchen. “You’re being way too chill about this.”

“Am I?” she asks, pulling a storage container out of the fridge. “Skye, you’re twenty-three years old. I’m always going to give you my opinion, but I’m not going to tell you what to do. And if I can help you out, I will.”

“You’re waiting to see if this whole thing blows up in my face.” I narrow my eyes at her. “And then you’re going to lecture me afterward. Aren’t you ?”

She shrugs. “Maybe. As the older sister, it’s kind of my job.”

Oddly enough, that actually puts me more at ease.

“Aunt Skye!” Lanie exclaims, appearing beside me. “What kinda donuts did you bring?” She teeters from one foot to the other. “And Ta-um wants to know if he can ’ave one since he ’elped clean up.”

I prop my hands on my hips. “Tatum sent you over here to ask for him?”

Lanie bobs her head, brushing her messy honey-colored hair out of her face. “Yeah, ’cause him said that I was better at asking.”

“ He said,” Dria corrects her, scooping two portions out of the casserole.

Lanie tosses out a careless hand to Dria. “Xactly.” Those big brown eyes zone in on me. “So, can he, Aunt Skye?”

I nod toward the living room. “Walk with me, kid.”

She grabs my hand, even though we’re not walking that far, and we make our way to the next room.

Nova’s giving some kind of lengthy backstory about how her stuffed purple fox, Lilivanna—we’re not sure where the name came from—recently hurt herself on the playground. And Tatum is sitting beside her on the floor, cradling Lilivanna while listening to Nova’s rambling.

Tatum and I are around the twins a lot, but it still hits me that he’s just really great with them. Like, seriously. He loves them as if they were his nieces instead of being mine.

It’s precious.

“So,” I say after clearing my throat, “I hear that a certain someone wants a donut?”

Nova stops her storytelling and points a finger at Tatum. “It was him, Aunt Skye!”

“I helped clean up.” Tatum proceeds to motion around the toyless floor and sofa. “See?”

“Hmm,” I hum, looking between the twins. “What do you think, girls? Does he deserve a donut?”

They both turn their attention to Tatum, who’s making a puppy-dog face, and his already-pouty lips look even bigger now. I’m telling you, supermodels would kill for those lips.

“Ta-um!” Nova shrieks, squishing his cheeks between her little hands. “Don’t be sad! You can ’ave a donut!”

“ Weally ?” he asks, still being sandwiched by Nova’s hands.

“Yes.” She nods before letting go of his face. “I’ll pick one out for you!”

“Wait for me!” Lanie whines, following Nova to the dining room. “I wanna pick it out too!”

“You definitely have a little fan club, Jacobs,” I drawl, taking Lilivanna from him so I can set her on the sofa. “That puppy-dog face was weak though.”

He tilts his head back and purses his lips again. “Girl, lips don’t lie.”

“Get out of here.” I swat his arm with a huff. “I’d offer to help you up, but we both know how it’s going to turn out.”

Last time I tried to help him up, I fell over, and I ended up sprawled across his lap. Before that happened though, I accidentally gave him a shiner with my elbow.

Good times, good times…

“Yeah, I got it,” he assures me, standing to his feet. “That was an experience I’d rather not relive.”

“Ta-um!” Lanie calls from the dining room.

“We’ve got your donut!” Nova finishes.

“Coming!” Tatum hollers back. “Did y’all pick one out for Aunt Skye too?”

“Yes!” they chime in unison.

Tatum starts walking in their direction, but I touch his arm to get his attention. “Hey, Tate?”

“What’s up?” he asks, now looking at me. “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” I give his arm a light squeeze. “I just wanted to thank you again for helping me with this crazy plan. And for just being there for me, all the way around. You’re a real one, Tatum. Seriously.”

Maybe I don’t deserve him, but I can’t imagine what I’d do without him.

He tsks, shaking his head like he usually does when he wants to brush something off. “Don’t even start. You would do the same for me. You have done the same for me. So, let’s just go eat some donuts, yeah?”

Well, I can’t argue with that.

After spending a few hours at Dria and Trey’s house, Tatum and I decided to cut our usually-would-be-long-day a little bit shorter. So right now, he’s driving me back to my place.

“You’ve been looking at that ring for almost five minutes,” Tatum observes, even though his gaze is on the road. “Whatcha thinking?”

Have I really been staring at it that much?

“I guess I’m just thinking about how it’s not mine.” I tilt my hand a little, causing sunlight to hit the diamond perfectly. “And I’m kind of weirded out by wearing it.”

But I also like the way it looks. A little bit. Maybe.

“Hmm,” he hums, eyes still focused ahead, “I thought you were worried about losing it.”

What the—

“Tatum!” I yell, reaching over to flick his neck. “Why would you say that? Now I’m going to be paranoid!”

“Ow,” he whines, rubbing the “injured” spot. “I’m surprised you didn’t think about it sooner. But chill, Pink Stuff, it’s not like you constantly lose stuff.”

He does have a point. Usually, Anna is the one misplacing everything.

“Skye! Have you seen my curl cream?”

“Skye! Did you move my keys?”

“Skye! I can’t find my ball of yarn! Do you think Sprinkles took it?”

To that, I responded with: “She’s not a freaking cat, Anna! You need to get more organized and stop blaming my innocent bunny for your problems!”

Oh, and guess where she found the ball of yarn? UNDER THE DRIVER’S SEAT OF HER CAR. You can be dang sure I made her apologize to my poor, precious Sprinkles.

“You’re right,” I agree with him, “I’m not going to lose it. Everything will be fine.”

“Yeah, so you attacked my neck for no reason,” he drawls in a bitter voice. “Hey, what time is the brunch tomorrow? You picking me up? Or am I coming to get you?”

“I can pick you up. And it technically starts at eleven thirty, so I’ll swing by your place around eleven?”

“That’s fine.”

His fingers tap against the steering wheel, creating a steady but distracted beat.

Something’s up.

“Spill it, Jacobs,” I tell him, placing my elbow on the chair’s armrest so I can cup the side of my face as I look at him expectantly. “What’s going on in that head of yours?

The tapping slows as he licks his lips. “Do you think Zoya is going to believe that we’re actually engaged? Do you think everyone else will believe it?”

A valid question.

“I mean…people have mistaken us for a couple before, right?” I offer a slight shrug. “That’s happened a few times. Back in school. Your Aunt Jackie’s welcome home party for that new living room furniture she bought.” Aunt Jackie really loves her parties. “The first time we went to the climbing gym. Heck, didn’t someone think we were a couple at the grocery store last week?”

A few times might’ve been an understatement.

“Yeah,” he replies with creased eyebrows, “it’s definitely happened more than once.”

“Exactly! So, how hard can it be to convince Zoya and my coworkers?”

I can’t tell if I’m trying to reassure him or myself, in all honesty.

Either way, he ends up agreeing with me and seems more relaxed. Then the conversation transitions into us both having some mild road rage toward an idiot who passes in front of us on a double line.

Soon, Tatum is pulling into a parking space in front of my apartment building, and I pop my seatbelt off before reaching toward the back to grab my bag.

Tatum clears his throat and mutters, “I’m gonna get your unicorn out of the trunk.”

“Okay,” I say as he gets out of the car, “thank you!”

I grab the coloring page that Nova did for me off the dashboard—the other page is the one Lanie did for Tatum—and get out of the car as well.

When I see Tatum tugging the huge box out, I almost offer my help, but I know he’s got it. And he’d tell me so too. We both know who has more strength out of the two of us, and it’s not this girl. I do, however, close the trunk door for him. Muscles aren’t needed for that. Well, I guess minimal muscles are, which I happen to have.

Thankfully, Anna’s and my apartment is on the first floor, so Tatum doesn’t have to carry the box far. Once we’re inside the apartment, he sets the box down with ease and I mentally hope that my neighbor Mrs. Nelson isn’t doing her “hallway powerwalking” because she WILL bring her nosy butt over here if she sees Tatum with his “muscles in action.” The sixty-something-year-old bachelorette is like a lioness on the prowl whenever there’s a good-looking guy in her line of sight.

Not that I’m saying Tatum is good-looking. I just know Mrs. Nelson thinks so. I mean, Tatum is good-looking, but I admit that as a friend. In a totally platonic way.

Right. Exactly.

“TATUM!” Anna exclaims, coming out of our bathroom. “I hear that congratulations are in order!” She winks at him before walking over in his direction so she can elbow him in the side.

She can barely reach.

“Anna,” I say with a warning look.

“He knows I’m just teasing,” she verbally waves me off. “Right, Tate?”

“Yeah,” Tatum drawls, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh…thanks? I guess.”

Anna has already moved on though. Now her attention is on the huge cardboard box gracing our living room. “Is that your present for the twins?”

“Yep.” I give the box a proud pat. “Nothing too crazy, just a gift to show them how much their aunt—”

“What the frick?!” She snatches my hand up with wide eyes. “You have a ring! Where did this ring come from? How did you get the money for it?” She then proceeds to grab my arms and shakes the crap out of me. “Answer me, woman! Do I need to come up with a cover story or not? Should I go into hiding?”

I almost slap her, but then I settle for snapping her black hair tie against her wrist instead.

“Hey,” she whines, rubbing her wrist, “that hurt!”

“You have to stop watching all those crime shows,” I tell her with an eye-roll. “It’s getting out of hand.”

She makes a hmmph noise as she tilts her chin up. “Says the donut-obsessed looney who’s faking an engagement to get a promotion.”

“Oohhhh,” Tatum says with a laugh. “Dang, Lopez, that’s kind of harsh.”

And yet, they fist-pound each other.

I cross my arms and look between them. “I hate you both.”